"It's as though I had come home," Kiyomori said to those gathered at a banquet in his honor. "This is so much home to me that I don't want to return to the capital."
Kiyomori's stay lasted two weeks and during that time he unfolded his plans to the chief priest of Itsuku-shima. They were grandiose plans—so incredible that the chief priest could only listen in astonishment. Here was a warrior, in rank but a councilor at the Court, still in his forties—an impossible visionary speaking! For this is what Kiyomori said:
"We cannot leave this beautiful island in such ruins. I want —and I can't tell you how soon this will be done—to see this shoreline and the hills so enhanced in all their natural beauty that this island will outshine Kyoto itself. There will be an archway like no other that has ever been seen, spanning the water as you approach Itsuku-shima from the sea, and those who come to worship here will enter by this great gate. The main shrine and its adjoining buildings will be connected by wide galleries, suspended above the sea, and the ebbing and flowing tide will give the whole variety; at night a hundred stone lanterns will be lit and their brilliance dye the waves, making this island even more enthralling. The main hall of worship will be spacious enough to seat thousands; towers and five-storied pagodas will pierce the pine woods on the flanks of the hills. The shrine and towers, set against the rocks in the hillside, will only increase the beauty of these surroundings. ..."
Fired by the picture he had painted, Kiyomori continued: "This will not be for my pleasure alone, but all who come from the capital shall see it, and many ships from far countries—from China—will sail past and be told: 'See! this is Japan, where even the smallest and remotest island boasts the noblest in architecture and artistry!' They may say we have aped their buildings, but the pines and the white sands of the shore and their beauty, changing through the seasons, are unique. And when they come ashore, there will be spread before them the essence of our arts through the ages—the Asuka, Nara, and Heian eras. . . . And when their. ships put in at Owada, I will welcome them in my own house. Owada? That will take time, but I plan to make it a great seaport, sheltered from winds and tides. And when my villa at Fukuhara is ready, I shall come here to worship every month in ships as stately as those from China. . . ."
To Kiyomori's listeners these were tall tales, the babbling of a madman—an impossible dreamer. Yet there was a breadth to this man that reminded them of the sea, and they were proud to claim him as one of their own.
And when Kiyomori was ready to leave, he was loaded with gifts—priceless treasures from China—incense, sweet-smelling aloes-wood, figured cloths, silk tissues, heavy brocades, paintings, vessels of celadon, dyestuffs and drugs. Not all were from China, for some came from those countries facing the Mediterranean on the east, by caravans from Arabia and the Persian Gulf.
The sight and scent of such exotic merchandise made Kiyomori impatient. "Wait, wait until the port at Owada is completed," he was heard to say. Yet that day came too slowly for him, like the tedious creeping of the shadow across a sundial.
At Owada, Kiyomori once more interrupted his journey back to Kyoto to meet Bamboku, and in September, after an absence of a month and a half, arrived in the capital.
Something was wrong, Kiyomori realized as he entered Rokuhara.
His eldest son, Shigemori, who was among the first to greet him, said: "That troublesome uncle of mine has been up to serious mischief while you were away, but you had better hear the story from Yorimori."
Kiyomori frowned with annoyance at hearing his son speak thus of Tokitada. Undoubtedly, he seemed something of a rowdy to the serious-minded Shigemori, but Kiyomori preferred that touch of wildness and picturesque recklessness, so much a part of Tokitada, to his son's sobriety. His heart, however, stood still at this announcement.
"What's this? Has he dragged Yorimori into one of his usual scrapes?"
"Something more than one of his usual escapades. He's involved in some plot that can shake the government."
"I can't believe he would plot against the throne."
"No, but it would be difficult for his majesty to regard it as anything else."
"... Well, let us wait. Let me talk with you later on," Kiyomori said, waving Shigemori aside.
After meeting various members of his household and hearing how they had conducted their duties in his absence, Kiyomori made his way to his wife's rooms and there was met by a tearful Tokiko.
"I can't forgive myself for what has happened . . ." she wept, and between her anxious sobs gave him the particulars.
During Kiyomori's long absence from Rokuhara, there had been the usual friction between the Court and the Cloister Palace, he was told. A rumor was heard that Tokitada and Yorimori, both court officers, were plotting to put the Cloistered Emperor's son on the throne. The rumor soon reached the Emperor Nijo, to whom it was clear that not Tokitada, but his own father, the Cloistered Emperor, had inspired this plot. But Tokitada and Yorimori shortly after were deprived of their rank by an imperial decree and banished.
Kiyomori grunted as Tokiko ended her account. She saw a faint smile playing about his lips as he assured her: "There's no reason for you to blame yourself. This was only as the Cloistered Emperor planned it. He's not one to be incited by even Tokitada. . . . That being so, Tokitada is too impetuous for his own good. There is the possibility that he might have been rash enough to attempt something in my absence that would give his majesty an excuse to suspect me, and I would then have had to take sides with the Cloistered Emperor; that is exactly how his majesty wants it to be."
"But what do you think really happened?"
"Don't worry, now that I'm back," Kiyomori assured Tokiko with his usual composure, and said nothing more. Tokiko was disappointed by his refusal to confide in her further, but her own thoughts rushed on. Could it be possible after all that her husband and brother really had schemes to supplant the Heir Apparent with the young Prince, their own nephew? Did the Cloistered Emperor share their secret? Tokiko was distressed by this terrifying possibility. Where would the insatiable ambitions of these men lead them, she wondered. But whatever thoughts he might have, Tokiko knew that her husband, manlike, would keep them to himself.
Upon his return Kiyomori at once presented himself at the Court, where he received a long audience with the young Emperor Nijo. Although Kiyomori was one of the very few whom Nijo trusted, Kiyomori did not broach the subject of the Cloistered Emperor, Nijo's father, nor did Nijo say anything of Tokitada.
A day later Kiyomori set out for the Cloister Palace. To him the ex-Emperor Goshirakawa appeared secretly pleased by the success of his latest intrigue, in which he believed he had Kiyomori's support. But when Kiyomori ended his account of the trip to Itsuku-shima, he bowed gravely and said:
"I must also add that while I was in retreat for seven days and nights, I received a. divine message in a dream."
"A dream?" Goshirakawa reiterated, surprised by the seriousness with which the usually skeptical Kiyomori said this.
"Yes, I'm convinced it was a message from the gods. I heard the lapping of the waves and a voice spoke from the purple clouds above me."
"A divine message?"
" 'Kiyomori,' it said 'if you truly deplore the present state of affairs, as a loyal subject let your royal master know this: there is only one sun in the firmament, yet on earth there is a ruler in the Court and in the Cloister Palace, both claiming supreme authority. What discord has followed from this and what untold misery this has brought to men'!"
"Wait, Kiyomori, this was a dream you say?"
"Yes, a dream. I found myself in a lady's carriage, crossing the sea, and, if you can believe it, a pair of foxes preceded me!"
Goshirakawa suddenly laughed aloud. Kiyomori would have laughed even more, but, restraining himself, he continued in serious vein: "That was the dream. No, I must admit that Tokiko is better at interpreting dreams."
"I understand what you mean, Kiyomori. Enough—enough now. . . ."
"I'm
glad if the meaning is clear to you," Kiyomori said, "but let me add one word more. Let there be peace between father and son."
Goshirakawa averted his face at these words.
"... . Yes, Kiyomori, I shall take to heart what you say. You need not be anxious. The Emperor is my son and I have no reason to hate him."
Yet not long after this, in October, the Emperor Nijo ordered two high-ranking courtiers, his father Goshirakawa's favorites, to resign from their posts at the Court, and despite conjectures and rumors of every kind, the reasons for this were never made known. Strangely enough, Goshirakawa, who in the ordinary course would have protested, maintained complete silence.
In March of the following year, the Emperor Nijo recalled from exile the courtier Tsunemunй, whom Goshirakawa had banished after one of the earlier wars.
In 1165, three and a half years after his trip to Itsuku-shima, Kiyomori was still consumed by his fever to make Owada a great seaport and the center of trade with China. He had changed much in the interval—matured. Every moment he could spare was now spent in drawing on Bamboku's worldly experience; he conferred with the merchant constantly, drafted and redrafted plans, applying himself untiringly to the task of reviewing his scheme until he was satisfied that Owada needed only a good harbor. "But I don't see how I can finance this single-handed," he confessed to Bamboku. It was clear that Kiyomori could expect no help from the Cloistered Emperor, for Goshirakawa's ambitions lay elsewhere; he thirsted after undisputed power. No way toward realizing this gigantic scheme seemed possible now except an appeal to the Emperor Nijo himself, and since both sovereigns courted Kiyomori's military backing, Kiyomori seized this as his chance to petition Nijo for two favors. One, the rights to the imperial estates of Fukuhara at Owada, was granted him almost immediately. The other—state funds for completing the harbor at Owada—was ignored. Nijo and his advisers smiled at Kiyomori's fantastic scheme. For a warrior, a Heike, to dream of foreign trade was nothing short of absurd—a site for a villa at Fukuhara was understandable, but . . . Kiyomori, however, was not discouraged and grew even more determined to succeed in his scheme.
The Cloistered Emperor, however, was disquieted by gossip in some quarters. Kiyomori, he heard, was not seeking trade with China, but a western base for a fleet of warships at Owada, close to the region where many Heike clansmen were settled.
In this same year, during the torrid heat of July, the young Emperor Nijo, who had been ailing for some time, died suddenly, and the royal funeral was held on the night of the 27th at the Koryuji Temple, north of the capital.
CHAPTER XLI
AN EMPEROR DIES
Thunder had been pealing in the distance for some time and the grass on the plain was limp under the fierce summer sun. Despite the heat great crowds poured from the capital and even from distant Kinugasa to line the route of Emperor Nijo's funeral cortege.
"I'm afraid we're in for a shower, Yomogi."
"Isn't there even a tree under which we can take shelter?— Oh, look, people are beginning to scatter!"
"There's a temple by that grove in the open fields."
Asatori and Yomogi started running in the direction of the temple, where many others had already taken refuge.
Four years had gone by since Yomogi, against Asatori's advice left Tokiwa. Before Asatori fully realized what was happening, Yomogi had come to live with him as his wife, and in due course he accepted the arrangement and soon grew accustomed to his role of husband.
"Oh, I'm so frightened!" Yomogi shuddered, clinging to Asatori's arm with each peal of thunder.
It was said that the imperial cortege would arrive at the temple on Funaoka Hill that same night.
Late in the afternoon an ominous radiance began to fill the sky as dazzling shafts of light broke through the angry clouds over Funaoka Hill, and the awed multitudes stared at the fearsome spectacle as though they saw a portent.
"Here, you, clear out now! We'll need this place at sunset," came an order as twenty horsemen rode into the temple compound and began herding people before them. As soon as they heard that these were Heike warriors from Rokuhara, the crowd melted away down the slope on which the small temple stood.
Toward the west the clouds darkened suddenly as with oncoming night and heavy drops of rain pelted down on the surrounding trees.
"Here, there are still a few more of them inside the gate. Drive them out!" a young soldier ordered, turning in his saddle. Some men and women were crouched behind a hurriedly improvised cloth screen at the base of a pillar. Several soldiers came forward and impatiently wrenched away the screen with repeated orders to the huddled group to leave.
Four or five gaily dressed women and a manservant quickly sprang from their position around an elderly woman stretched inert on a straw pallet.
". . . someone ill?" inquired a young warrior kindly as he dismounted. He warned away the impatient soldiers as he approached the group.
A frightened manservant replied: "Yes, the heat was too much for our mistress and she fainted on the road. We brought her here and are trying to revive her. We'll carry her away if you'll give us a little time."
"No, wait, she seems to be in pain. Stay here a little longer until she's better."
"Sir, do you mean it?"
"Certainly, she mustn't get wet. . . . Let me see if I have some medicine for her. Here," the young warrior said, fumbling in his sleeve with a disappointed look, "does anyone happen to have some? Where are you women from?" he finally asked.
"We're from the gay quarters at Horikawa."
"Dancing-girls?" the officer asked, glancing at the young women once more. "Did you come all that way just for the funeral?"
"Yes . . ." replied one of the older women, "our mistress, Toji, insisted on coming to pay her last respects, and this is what happened. I don't know what we're to do now."
"I'll get you an ox-cart. You'd better take the sick woman home."
The officer sent off a soldier to round up a cart. In the meantime the figure on the pallet was seized with a fit that left her moaning with pain.
Asatori, who had been watching all this at a distance, could no longer restrain himself at the sight of the woman's suffering and went back to the gate. He took one look at the sick woman, then ran to Yomogi.
"Yomogi—"
"What is it?"
"I'd like to do something for that poor woman."
"No, not with the Heike soldiers there."
"Why should that matter? I must help her."
"Yes, but have you noticed that young manservant standing to the right of those dancing-girls?" Yomogi asked.
"Yes, he came with the woman who's sick."
"I know," Yomogi continued, "but don't you recognize him?"
"Why?"
"Well, he's the reason for my not wanting you to go back there. I could hardly believe my eyes. I'm sure if he sees me he'd be surprised, so I'd rather stay here under this tree."
"That manservant? Why, he's only an ordinary servant."
"He used to be one of Lord Yoshitomo's retainers—Konno-maru."
Asatori started. "What! Konno-maru—he?"
"You do know him, then, don't you? He's the retainer that the Heike soldiers tried to capture after the Heiji War."
"I'm sure you're mistaken, Yomogi."
"No, I'd never mistake him. I often saw him when he visited my mistress Tokiwa in secret at the Mibu villa."
"How odd of him to hire himself out as a manservant in the gay quarters!"
"Nor can I understand why he should, but the Heike soldiers would never guess that he's Konno-maru. What a fuss there'll be if they ever find out!"
The Heike Story Page 56