"So you are leaving. I had nothing to do with saving your life; you owe it all to the blessed Buddha. . . . Remember my words to you last night, Yoritomo, that you are to renounce the way of the warrior, the calling of bloodshed."
"Yes."
"No matter how great the temptation, turn away your ear from the whisperings of evil men. . . . Let your life be consecrated to prayer in memory of your dead mother and father."
"Yes."
"Remember my words even when you are grown to manhood. Let no one draw you into a reckless plot for revenge, lest you be imprisoned again. And never forget that my prayers go with you."
"Yes . . . yes."
"You are a good child. . . . Here is the dice-game I promised you. Does this please you?"
Ariko produced a black lacquer box richly ornamented with a pattern in powdered gold.
"Oh, what a beautiful box! May I open it now?"
Ariko smiled. "I doubt that you have time for that now. Does he, Munekiyo?"
"I'm afraid not. Your boxes are now being loaded on the pack-horses and I'd better put this with the rest, so it won't get broken."
"That is best. ... It is more important that you go now and meet some people who came to me asking for leave to say farewell. They are waiting in the servants' quarters."
"Oh, for me?"
Yoritomo drew in his breath sharply. Sadness filled him and a nameless ache; he could not guess who these people might be.
". . . Oh!"
The three who waited for Yoritomo turned to him with streaming eyes. One was his maternal uncle, Sukenori, who had refused to take sides in the fighting; the second was Moriyasu of the Genji, whom illness had detained in a distant province until the war was over. The third was Yoritomo's old nurse, who had tended him from his infancy, and she knelt before him weeping.
"My young master, let me today for the last time bind up your hair," she said, and, rising, came and stood behind him. While she combed his hair, she leaned forward long enough to whisper: "This is a sad moment for you, but this is not the last time we shall meet, for your old nurse will not fail to come to you in Izu."
Then the other two also came up close to him while the guard's back was turned and spoke quickly to Yoritomo in low tones: "The gods have saved you by a miracle. Let no man ever persuade you to shave your head and take the vows."
And while his nurse arranged his hair, Yoritomo quietly gazed up at the ceiling, feigning not to hear, but signifying by a slight movement of his brows that he understood and assented.
"It's time to start," an official announced as he left his bench to mount his horse. Beckoning to the attendants, he ordered: "Ready—ready now for the start!"
The pack-horses were led out on the road, while a number of lower officials with bamboo staves motioned back a crowd that was already beginning to gather at the scene. The guards who were accompanying Yoritomo filed out by the gate, leading Yoritomo's horse, and called: "Time to start! Make haste, please!"
Very soon the youthful prisoner appeared at the gate accompanied by members of Ariko's household. This was not the usual exile people were accustomed to see—a gaunt, tear-sodden prisoner—but a gay figure, radiant with youth, who sprang lightly to his saddle.
"Farewell," Yoritomo cried, smiling and inclining his head toward the house.
Ariko and her son Yorimori were among those assembled to see Yoritomo off. "Yoritomo, your health for many a day to come!" "Yoritomo, farewell!" they cried to this boy who already exercised the mysterious power of drawing to himself the devotion of those who came to know him. Yoritomo's eyes, however, were now turned away from them and directed toward a figure beside the gate.
"Munekiyo, farewell." He saluted, inclining his head.
Munekiyo quietly replied: "Farewell," and bowed in return.
The procession began to move off slowly in a flurry of falling petals, and soon nothing remained but a white road, paved with blossoms.
By the time the party began the ascent at Kuritaguchi, the spring sun was high in the heavens. The expanse of roofs in the capital, and all the countryside, stretching from the Northern Hills to the Eastern Hills, seemed to float in a sea of foaming blossoms. Yoritomo looked down many times over his shoulder toward the Kamo River. Who knew that thoughts went through his mind as he recalled that day of blood when he fought on the riverbank with his father and brothers?
Rumors brought a crowd of local people to Otsu on the shores of Lake Biwa—monks, men and women, travelers, children and their elders—all curious to see Yoritomo depart. When Yoritomo finally arrived and prepared to embark for the other side of the lake, his uncle and Moriyasu of the Genji, who were allowed to accompany Yoritomo this far, took leave of him with tears.
Yoritomo, however, turned to them puzzled. "See, I am not sad. I do not know how other exiles feel at a time like this, but for me this is a moment for rejoicing, a day to celebrate."
As soon as the company had boarded their vessel, Yoritomo at once unpacked the box Lady Ariko had given him and began setting up his dice-game, as he did so calling to the guard in charge of the party: "Will you not come and play with me?"
The guard laughed ruefully. "I must remind you that you are a prisoner and that I am an official. You must observe the rules for prisoners or else you will be punished."
"Is it forbidden to play this game?"
"This is not a pleasure trip, I must once more remind you. When you reach Izu, you will still be treated as a prisoner and put under heavy guard."
Yoritomo frowned with annoyance. "Here, put these away until I reach prison," he ordered one of the attendants, pushing the scattered pieces of the game away from him.
The guard shook his head resignedly. "This child doesn't seem to understand what his position is," he said in an aside.
On the long journey along the Tokaido highway, he and the other attendants had further reason to believe that their young prisoner was perhaps a simpleton, for Yoritomo often tried to engage them in discussions of moves in the dice-game, or else whiled away the time on horseback piping and whistling with blades of grass.
At the time Yoritomo was banished to Izu, Councilor Moronaka, Korekata, the chief of the Police Commission, and Tsunemunй , the courtier, were also sent into exile. Their plot to unseat Kiyomori had ended by placing him even more firmly in power.
Spring had come and the capital was astir with life once more; the busy inhabitants sighed with relief as they breathed the air of peace and the scent of flowering trees. Kiyomori was unusually occupied with a multitude of official duties. He had, however, disposed of a number of troublesome issues while the hubbub subsided. The matter of Tokiwa and her children had been settled: Imawaka, her eldest son, was sent to a temple near Fushimi, south of the capital, and put in the Abbot's care with the stipulation that the child was to enter holy orders; the high ecclesiastic of Tennoji Temple was given charge of Otowaka, also destined for the priesthood; the youngest, Ushiwaka, despite his mother's entreaties, was taken from her and sent with a wet-nurse to the Abbot on Kurama Mountain, where he too was to take the vows when he came of age.
When all this became known to the public, tongues began to wag in the capital.
"Now see what a woman's charm can do!"
"That would hardly happen to every one. It takes a woman with Tokiwa's beauty."
"That's just it. What if Tokiwa had been plain?"
"It's likely that her children would not have been spared."
A bystander remarked irascibly: "Bah, all your foolish gossip!"
"You? You're looking out of sorts!"
"And why not—don't you realize that if she had been ugly they would never have picked her to serve at the Palace?"
"There's no question of that."
"Lord Yoshitomo would not have become infatuated with her, and there wouldn't have been those three children."
"As I was saying, all this gossip is nonsense. What makes you so suspicious?"
"Heh, then tell us what you thi
nk. Are you saying that Lord Kiyomori spared those three children for no reason at all?"
"It wouldn't be unlike him if he had. Don't forget that he's the lord of Rokuhara. Why should he stoop to dickering or take unnecessary risks? Why should he make a fool of himself over a widow with three children, when the world is full of desirable women?"
"Ah, no, there's only one Tokiwa in all Kyoto." The speaker laughed. "Ho, ho! So that's what you think, but little you know how a man in his forties—the victor at that—feels when he eyes his ravishing captive."
This was the theme which occupied gossips in the capital— the common folk, the courtiers and their ladies, even the scholars in temple precincts and nuns in their convent retreats; and not least in Rokuhara itself there were whispers of how Kiyomori stood in relation to Tokiwa.
Some of the additions to Kiyomori's mansion were done— complete with their enclosed gardens.
"Red-Nose, this is very fine indeed! This rose court pleases me greatly."
"That's what I expected. I doubt that the Minister of the Left will feel that his garden on the river can match this."
"You're uncommonly proud of this, aren't you, Bamboku?" Kiyomori chaffed.
"For one thing, the plans for the gardens and buildings were mine."
Kiyomori laughed. "Well, Nose, this is your day to brag."
"And if it were not and you disappointed, what a black day this would be for me!"
"Well, well, Nose, your swaggering makes me forget my troubles."
Kiyomori was entertaining the merchant in one of the new rooms looking out on the rose court.
Bamboku was uncanny in the way he guessed what one was thinking, Kiyomori reflected. A slippery fellow. Kiyomori had been wary of him at first, but Tokiko had such a high opinion of him that Kiyomori was persuaded to accept him, and finally began to set more store by Bamboku than even Tokiko did. He was, in fact, getting quite fond of Red-Nose, his droll humor—a character, full of cunning and discernment, which Kiyomori himself lacked. This, Bamboku had proved amply in the ticklish negotiations between Kiyomori and the conspirators in the last Palace intrigue.
Bamboku was worth cultivating, Kiyomori had decided, and began sending for him on one pretext or another. When he felt low in spirits or was in need of a companion to relieve his boredom, he called for the Nose as most people did for those aromatic herbs which act as a tonic to the spirits. This was just another such occasion; the Nose was well in his cups, and the ruddy hues of his nose had spread to the rest of his features.
"Ho, troubles, indeed? And you want to forget them?"
"What are you groaning about?"
"My lord, I can scarcely believe that you would have troubles."
"Blockhead! Am I not human?"
"Let me see—was it you that once told me you were a 'child of the heavens and earth'—a son of nature?"
"That was only a manner of speaking."
"Very stupid of me, to be sure—I see what is troubling you."
"You do?"
"Quite understandable and natural. Besides, spring is here. Isn't that reason enough, my lord?"
"Something of the kind," Kiyomori replied with a wry laugh.
"To tell you the truth, sir, I am disappointed in you this time. I have been mistaken about you."
"About what?"
"You lack courage," the Nose jeered, and continued: "What a spectacle indeed! What fainthearted melancholy is this? I can hardly believe it of you, the hero without peer! The hero, that man! Do you call yourself a man, spineless creature that you are?"
Under the influence of wine Bamboku often indulged in such plain speaking; only the Nose dared to taunt Kiyomori in this fashion. These gibes pleased Kiyomori, who took the merchant more and more into his confidence.
The Nose was the first to get wind of Kiyomori's visits to Tokiwa—now an open secret—and soon was accompanying him on his calls. Nor did the latest gossip escape the Nose, who carefully trickled it into Kiyomori's ear: "That poor Tokiwa, who has given herself to the lord of Rokuhara for the sake of her children! He is insanely in love with her. How galling for her to submit to the embraces of that libertine! . . ." Thus ran the rumors, embroidered on by everyone to his liking. But the Nose discerned that wishful thinking accounted largely for what the world accepted as fact; if there was some truth in what people were saying, the rest was pure fabrication. The gossip, nevertheless, was unflattering to Kiyomori.
"I find all this annoying—most exasperating. All these rumors—and you so queasy!"
"Come, Red-Nose, stop taunting me. My position is not an easy one, you know."
"Still vacillating, are you? Didn't you make up your mind to it last night?"
"Make up my mind?"
"There now, just as we come to the point, you turn evasive. What makes you hesitate to tell me whether you have or haven't made her your mistress?"
CHAPTER XXX
CHERRY BLOSSOMS
Tokiwa sat at the window of her boudoir, motionless, gazing out at the misted moon in the spring night. What had become of Imawaka, she wondered. Had Otowaka grown accustomed by now to strangers? Was he thriving—Ushiwaka who had been torn from her arms and carried off to Kurama Mountain? Someone had said to her: "A child can get along very well without its mother."
If only this were true, she prayed, hating those assurances, which were meant to comfort her and which she knew to be cruelly true. What did she have to live for now that her children had been taken from her? What use had she for this poor husk of self? It was almost unbearable, too, that after Ushiwaka was taken from her, her breasts had once more become swollen with milk and grew painful; a fever spread from them throughout all her body, so that she lay sick for many days. Her jailer had finally called a physician lest Kiyomori think he had been neglecting his prisoner. The servants hovered about Tokiwa, but she shrank from them in fear and shame; it was clear what they had in mind, for the elderly woman who had charge of Tokiwa and waited on her had whispered: "My lady, people everywhere praise you for what you have done. She who preserves her chastity is not alone virtuous. They idolize you as the noble mother who sacrificed herself for her children."
And soon after, the jailer's wife also came to Tokiwa's bedside secretly to say: "There are countless women in the capital whose ambition it is to win favor in Lord Kiyomori's eyes, and who deck themselves out for him. You don't seem to realize how fortunate you are. You must have been born under a lucky star. Come, stop fretting and make yourself beautiful, for I can see that you are still young. As a woman the future lies before you, and if his lordship finds you pleasing, then everything will be yours for the asking."
Coloring deeply with shame, Tokiwa could only listen with her face buried in the folds of her robes.
Tokiwa felt that someone was standing behind her, but fear kept her from turning to see who it was.
"Tokiwa, what are you watching?"
It was Kiyomori speaking, and Tokiwa showed that she recognized him, but did not move and only replied: "I am looking at the cherry blossoms."
The room was vaguely luminous with moonlight. Kiyomori finally seated himself, but said nothing more, and Tokiwa continued to sit at the window. It was fortunate for her that the lamp had gone out, for there was no need for her now to shrink away from him to conceal her tear-wet face.
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