"Where is our master? Is he safe?" he asked.
The other hesitated and, thinking it wiser to tell him very little, simply assured him that Shinzei was safe, and in his turn eagerly plied him with questions about what had happened in the capital. When he had got as much news as he could, he urged the other retainer to return to Kyoto.
When the retainer finally overtook his master, he recounted all he had heard. Shinzei turned gray with fear and, while they were still speaking, the other retainers, who had gone out to reconnoiter, returned with the news that a company of seventy mounted warriors were approaching.
Shinzei's eyes gleamed like those of a trapped beast. He saw no hope of reaching his own domain now and groaned. Then he turned to his five retainers.
"I have a plan. There's a farmhouse behind this temple. Find some spades and dig a hole there—beyond that bamboo thicket. . . . Hurry!—a hole!"
The housemen feverishly turned up the frozen soil until they had a pit large enough for Shinzei to sit in cross-legged. Shinzei lowered himself into it and ordered the men to pack leaves and branches around him until he was buried up to the neck.
"Now throw in the dirt," he cried, placing a hollow length of bamboo between his lips, "until my shoulders are covered. Cover my head with that bamboo hat and lightly pile on more earth, so that the top of my head is level with the ground. Pull out the wadding from your clothes and gently stop up my ears and nose; then cover up the traces of your work with more leaves. See that nothing chokes this stem through which I shall breathe. Leave me here until tomorrow and come back as soon as it is safe."
Their task completed, Shinzei's retainers fled the spot.
On the following afternoon two of the five retainers stole back and were aghast to find a yawning hole with a corpse in it. Some peasants who came by told them that several soldiers, with a woodcutter as their guide, had come here on the previous evening, unearthed Shinzei, beheaded him then and there, and left after they had thrown the headless corpse back into the pit.
On the day that Shinzei met his death—the 13th of December—a courier from Rokuhara caught up with Kiyomori at Kiribe.
On the 14th, when the news of Shinzei's capture and beheading reached the capital, a proclamation was made, announcing that Shinzei's head would be paraded along the main avenues of the capital and later be displayed in a public place.
High and low alike trooped to see the grisly spectacle. As the head passed before Nobuyori, Korekata, and Yoshitomo in their carriages, a spectator among the crowds was heard to say that he saw the grim emblem nod twice in the direction of the three men. And this strange tale passed swiftly from mouth to mouth among the credulous masses.
Of Shinzei's household, nineteen, including his sons, were captured and beheaded on the banks of the river where so many had died not too long before on Shinzei's orders, and Shinzei's head was set up in a certain tree on the west side of the capital, where all might see the ironic fate of the man who revived the death penalty.
Before the week was over, the usurpers had divided among themselves some of the most envied offices of state, and in self-issued decrees proclaimed themselves the rulers. Nobuyori took to himself the long-coveted title of General of the Imperial Guards and the post of a minister. Korekata, Tsunemunй, and the others each named himself to the post he most coveted, and to Yoshitomo of the Genji was given the province of Harima. Yorimasa of the Genji, however, pleading that his injuries kept him at home, failed to appear at the banquet celebrating the triumph of the conspirators.
All thought of the imprisoned Emperor and Goshirakawa, meanwhile, was forgotten. But while the feasting went on, a court secretary came to Yoshitomo with a message:
"Sir, your son has just arrived from Kamakura. He is waiting in one of the anterooms."
Yoshitomo's face lighted up. "He has?"
Nobuyori had turned red under the powder that covered his face. He had been drinking all evening. Overhearing the secretary, he leaned toward Yoshitomo, who was seated near him. "Master of the Imperial Stables, who is this that has just arrived from Kamakura?"
"My eldest son, Yoshihira. He was sent east as a boy to get his training. He has a bad name for having killed his uncle in a quarrel. A rascal, to be sure, but he seems to have heard of the disturbances here and has come to offer assistance. I am proud of him for that. They say that the more troublesome a child is, the more his parents love him."
"How long is it since you last saw him?"
"I hardly remember how many years it is."
"How old is he?"
"Nineteen."
"He must have ridden day and night without stopping to get here from Kamakura. You surely want to see each other without losing a moment. Tell him to come here."
Yoshitomo inclined his head. "If it pleases you, sir."
"I'd like to see Yoshihira for myself."
The secretary led in the young man, and the entire company turned expectantly. But a look of disappointment came over their faces, for, his reputation notwithstanding, Yoshihira appeared to be a quite ordinary youth of rather small build. He wore armor suitable for a young warrior. The purple silk cords of his cap were knotted under his chin, enhancing the healthy glow of his young cheeks and lending a certain fineness to his robust looks. His cap was a new one hastily worn for the occasion.
Nobuyori looked down at the young man.
"Yoshihira of the Genji, you bring us good luck. You come on a day of rejoicing," he said. "You, too, must soon prove yourself in battle, and by your prowess win yourself a court post. All these you see around me have distinguished themselves in these last four days and are now being showered with well-deserved praise and honors. Here—wine for Yoshihira."
Yoshihira bowed low in greeting, then sat erect, staring openly at the courtiers ranged in the seats of honor as though he had never before seen such a curious sight. An attendant presented him with a cup of wine. Yoshihira finished it in one draught. His cup was refilled and he again drained it, but said nothing. The glow in his tanned face bespoke a kind of innocence rarely seen in youths in the capital. The clear, straightforward gaze was without guile.
"You drink well, Yoshihira. You enjoy it?"
"I do."
"And—love?"
"Of that I know nothing."
"What brings you to the Capital? To win yourself a name?"
"That is for the future. I came when I heard my father was in need, and what son would not do the same?"
The quick, direct answers seemed to amuse Nobuyori.
"Spoken like an easterner!" He laughed, showing his dyed teeth. Yoshihira frowned slightly with distaste at the sight of the blackened teeth in the painted face.
"You don't boast, yet you act like a man, Yoshihira. Come, you must follow your father's example and win the privilege of taking your place among us. I'll see to it that you do."
A look of scorn hovered under Yoshihira's smile. The courtiers, he thought, still treated the warriors as though they were watchdogs. Here he was being trifled with with a tidbit as though he were a whelp.
"What makes you smile, Yoshihira?" Nobuyori queried. "Are you not interested in coming up in the ranks?"
Yoshihira shook his head. "No. I was thinking of my uncle and what he did during the Hogen War."
"The Hogen War? Your uncle?"
"Tametomo of the Genji is my uncle. He refused a court post from the Minister of the Left when the fighting started, and rode into the thick of battle. ... I was merely thinking of that."
Nobuyori frowned. He sensed that he had offended this youth. The courtiers glared at Yoshihira; Yoshitomo suppressed an exclamation of approval. The arrival of a dispatch for Nobuyori fortunately broke the uncomfortable silence that fell on the company. A courier had returned with a report of Kiyomori's whereabouts.
With Shinzei dead, only Kiyomori needed to be dealt with, and there was little to fear from Rokuhara, where Kiyomori's brother and brother-in-law were in command. There were rumors that they too had
fled with the women and children, and a single order from Nobuyori to his troops would have confirmed this, but Nobuyori and his fellow usurpers were content to wait until they were certain of Kiyomori's next move. They were sure that Kiyomori's fate was sealed; he would not dare strike a blow at them. There was nothing he could do now but surrender. A few, however, ventured to think that Kiyomori might be audacious enough to challenge them in a last desperate fight.
In spite of a few misgivings, the victors were undisturbed by the latest news. "It looks as though Kiyomori has decided to return to the capital. The courier we sent this morning has just arrived back. There is no further news and no way of telling what Kiyomori intends to do next. The next dispatch should tell us that."
The drinking was resumed and Nobuyori turned once more to Yoshihira.
"And by the way, young man, what do you think of all this?"
Yoshihira, who had been listening intently to the fragments of conversation round him, replied eagerly: "Permit me to have a company of soldiers. I will go as far as Abeno and there challenge Kiyomori of the Heike in single combat and bring back his head."
Yoshihira's self-assurance amused the courtiers, who laughed aloud.
Yoshihira gazed around him blankly, uncomprehending.
CHAPTER XXII
ORANGES FROM THE SOUTH
The winter sea darkened slowly, taking on the indigo iridescence of fish scales as the sun dropped toward the horizon. Far out on the waters the crest of the waves gleamed white. It was the hour when the vast wheeling of the earth's orb was almost perceptible to the senses in the swiftly ebbing light. The long coastline of Kii Peninsula wrinkled away to the south in a succession of hills, and between them the harbor in Kiribe Bay lay sheltered, smooth as a millpond. A few lights dotted the hamlet lying between the river-mouth and the sea.
"There goes the sun—ah, there it goes down," Kiyomori whispered to the darkening sky and the hillside on which Kiribe Shrine stood. Never, never in all his forty-two years, had he watched a sunset with such bitter repining. This was the 13th of December, the day on which he had received news of dire events in Kyoto.
When his party had recovered from their initial bewilderment, Kiyomori obtained the use of a hall in one of the buildings attached to Kiribe Shrine and called a council; with his men gathered round him, Kiyomori began:
"We must not lose heart in this most disastrous moment of our lives. What, then, are we to do? Shigemori, tell us what you think. Mokunosukй—and the rest of you—speak up. Every one of you tell me what you think should be done."
They had none of them ever seen Kiyomori like this. His seriousness changed him beyond recognition. No longer was he the gay and confident leader they had always known. The thick brows, which gave him an obstinate look, were now drawn together into a heavy line, giving his troubled eyes an anxious frown.
A grim look had replaced Shigemori's usually mild expression.
"Tell us first, Father, what you think. We want nothing more than to live or die with you."
Kiyomori immediately outlined two plans. Shigemori was not in favor of them, and Mokunosukй shook his head. And as they deliberated, the short winter's day drew swiftly to its close.
"Every moment is precious, and we must get rest and sleep or else it will go hard with us tomorrow. Why don't we get the shrine-keepers to give us our supper beside a fire? And you, Mokunosukй, tell the men to cook their meals and get some sleep."
The talk ended when the shrine-keepers arrived in a body to welcome Kiyomori and escorted him to a lodge erected for the use of imperial visitors traveling to Kumano Shrine, several days' journey farther southeast. The open hearth in the guesthouse always surprised visitors from the capital by its great size. Kiyomori sat by a blazing fire and listened to the lonely murmuring of the distant sea.
"Father, you must be tired."
"Oh, is it you, Shigemori? Where's the Old One?"
"He will be here very soon."
"I want only the three of us here together."
"Mokunosukй thought so too, and has gone to see that the men are bedded down for the night."
"How did the men appear?"
"They were badly shaken at first, but seem to have recovered their spirits."
"If any try to slip off, let them go. Don't keep too close a watch on them."
Shrine virgins brought in wine and food, and the chief priest arrived soon after to greet Kiyomori. Kiyomori quickly dispensed with the customary salutations.
"They tell me that the climate in these parts is mild, but at night the sea sounds cold and forbidding. We wish to have our meal here beside the fire, undisturbed, for I have private matters to discuss," he said, quickly coming to the point.
Mokunosukй soon joined the pair.
The two plans which Kiyomori had presented to his men that afternoon were: one, to continue on the pilgrimage, since they were powerless to intervene in the-struggle even if they turned back. At Kumano he would consult the oracle and act on its advice. The other was to return at once to Naniwa (Osaka) and from there sail to Shikoku Island to watch the course of events, and, in the meantime, try to muster an army.
At best, the plans were little more than expedients. Mokunosukй, however, perceived what was going through Kiyomori's mind. Kiyomori feared the enemy in the capital less than treachery among the soldiers who now formed his party, for a handsome reward awaited any man who brought Kiyomori's head to the authorities. This possibility, in turn, seemed to trouble Kiyomori less than the possible fate of his family at Rokuhara. If Kiyomori were to take up arms against Nobuyori and Korekata, they would not hesitate to put Rokuhara to the torch, slaughter the inhabitants, and then demand Kiyomori's surrender. There was no gainsaying this, and whatever Kiyomori decided, it was necessary that he keep his intentions hidden from friend and foe alike, reach Kyoto without delay, and act quickly.
Mokunosukй, his eighty-year-old frame hunched over, faced father and son across the hearth, mumbling indistinctly.
"What's happened in the capital was bound to come. This Old One can hardly believe what you've just said. I realize too well the difficulties you face in getting back to the capital. But, so far as we are concerned, there are enough bows, arrows, and armor for us all."
"Old One, you don't mean that you brought them along?"
"That is part of the warrior's training; I owe this to your late father, Tadamori."
"Well done!"
Shigemori, who had been quietly studying his father's face in the firelight, said:
"Have you decided to hurry back to the capital after all, Father?"
"That speaks for itself. I have no other choice as a warrior. The gods have granted us this chance. The road to Kumano is beset with hardships and perils—like man's journeying through life, Shigemori. You are of age now, and this will be the supreme test of your manhood."
"That it shall be. But what of those at Rokuhara?"
"Yes, we have every reason to fear for them, and that is the main objection to my going back. We had better send a message to the inn at Tanabй by someone we can trust."
"Hanzo is the man for that. What is the message?"
"The chief priest of Kumano is stopping there. I will write him and ask for assistance along the road."
The Heike Story Page 35