"There's no reason why they should."
"Then what's at the bottom of these disturbing rumors of the last few days?"
"I suspect the Cloistered Emperor's advisers are stirring up the monks of Mount Hiei as they tried to stir up me."
"Good! That explains it," Kiyomori exclaimed, looking relieved. Calling for writing-materials, he quickly inscribed a short letter, then called to his half-brother, who sat at the farther end of the room:
"Tadanori, your face isn't too well known here in the capital, so you're best suited for this. Leave your armor behind—carry this to Mount Hiei and make sure that one of the three abbots there gets it. An answer? ... I think not. You'd better take care, though—agents from the Cloister Palace may be on the lookout for you."
When Tadanori left with the letter, the others stared at Kiyomori, curious as to when and how he had come to be on corresponding terms with the leaders on Mount Hiei.
"We're in trouble now," Kiyomori remarked half to himself. "Get me my armor. I might as well be prepared for the worst," adding as he rose reluctantly: "The truth is I'm tired and more ready for some sleep than anything else."
While he drew on his black corselet and fastened the cords of his greaves, he muttered between his teeth: ". . . too fond of meddling. The worst sort of men around him. Too headstrong for his own good. ... If only he'd stop meddling!"
Toward evening of that same day there were reports that the monks of Mount Hiei were pouring into the capital. Kiyomori groaned. Had his letter reached Mount Hiei too late? Without further delay he ordered his sons to ride to the Court with reinforcements, assuring them that he would remain to defend Rokuhara.
In the meantime, remnants of Heike soldiers and the Police Commission, who had gone to West Sakamoto and north along the Kamo to repulse the monks, arrived back in the twilit capital with the news that the monks had put the Heike troops to rout. The entire capital was now in turmoil as though an earthquake had struck it. Panic seized the populace as they waited for the outbreak of fighting between Kiyomori and the ex-Emperor. But in the midst of this uproar an imperial carriage rolled along Fifth Avenue, rumbled across Gojo Bridge and into Rokuhara.
"His majesty—the Cloistered Emperor—here?" Kiyomori received the announcement in a daze, then hurried out to meet his visitor.
"Is that you, Kiyomori?" Goshirakawa called, rolling up the blinds of his carriage and smiling. "Your hand. . . . Help me down," he said in his usual friendly manner.
Kiyomori stared at the disarming smile on Goshirakawa's lips, then moved forward like a sleepwalker to assist him and led him indoors.
"But, your majesty, what is this? What is meant by this honor, a visit so late at night?" Kiyomori exclaimed in astonishment.
Kiyomori, who felt equal to any situation, was completely taken aback by this fantastic turn of affairs. But the ex-Emperor continued to smile imperturbably. Though considerably younger than Kiyomori, he wore a triumphant look that said he was not one to be taken in by Kiyomori.
"Did I take you by surprise, Kiyomori?"
"Indeed you did, your majesty."
"What else was there for me to do? Had I let these rumors continue, they would undoubtedly have led to bloodshed."
"Is it true that all these reports were nothing more than rumors?"
"Do you still doubt me, Kiyomori? Did I not come here— to you?"
"Yes, truly," Kiyomori replied lamely. Here he was, fully armed. Had his faulty judgment been the sole cause of this terrible blunder? The ex-Emperor regarded him after all as ungenerous, untrustworthy. Kiyomori writhed inwardly at the thought of the false situation into which he was being forced. Then his savage warrior's pride asserted itself and tears sprang to his eyes.
"Kiyomori—tears?"
"Tears of gratitude, your majesty."
"How comic, Kiyomori! You armed and your soldiers armed —and then you in tears!"
"True, a comic performance. I laugh at myself for a fool."
"All is well, then. Let us be glad that we no longer misunderstand each other. Don't be deceived by mere rumors Kiyomori. Believe in me, trust me." And with these words Goshirakawa departed, escorted by troops from Rokuhara.
Soon after his departure, Kiyomori's eldest son arrived. "Has his majesty left?" he asked. "I just heard of his visit from my brothers."
"Shigemori, not in armor?"
"No, it was exactly as I thought and had been telling the others—that his majesty had no intention of turning against the Heike."
"You think so, do you? I'm still puzzled," Kiyomori replied.
"Why is that?"
"All this could not have happened without his majesty himself intending that it should. He has a dangerous smile. I have no doubt that he has secret designs upon the Heike."
"Father! . . ."
"Why that look?" Kiyomori said sharply.
"That's unlikely, Father, but to say it! You must take care not to do anything that will turn him against us. I pray that you will serve him with even greater loyalty."
"Of all that I need no reminding. But, Shigemori, I doubt that you understand what's behind that charming manner. I know, and that makes it all the harder for me."
"No, I'm sure that if you serve him with all your heart the gods will watch over you."
"Take care," Kiyomori exclaimed with a laugh, "don't preach to your father—it's not quite that simple, Shigemori. You, your mother and the rest of you are completely deceived by his charm. I alone see through him. . . . Yes, and it really matters little that the rest of you don't."
But while they were talking, a glare filled the sky over Kiyomizu Temple; flames soon swept through the temple buildings, raining sparks and burning fragments on Rokuhara. There, the excited inhabitants told each other that the monks of Mount Hiei were revenging themselves on Kofukuji by setting fire to their rivals' temple.
In the midst of this uproar Tadanori arrived back with a letter from the Abbot Jisso—a cryptic message intended for Kiyomori alone.
All that night of August 9, while flames lapped at one side of the Eastern Hills, several thousand fighting monks made their way back to Mount Hiei.
CHAPTER XLII
THE LIGHT OF TRUTH
All that remained of Kiyomizu Temple, its pagoda and other buildings of the temple group, was a waste of ashes. Days went by, but no priest returned to view the ruins or repent the awful desecration; only the common folk—men and women—came and prostrated themselves with streaming eyes among the ashes and prayed. Yet among that crowd of dazed penitents a young monk—still in his early thirties—knelt in prayer. His robes, severely plain, proclaimed him a seminarian; the figure in all its humility eloquently conveyed the impression of one bowed down with sorrow. At length, when he reached for his pilgrim hat and rose, the people about him suddenly pressed toward him hungrily.
"Your reverence, are you not one of the priests of Kiyomizu Temple?"
"No, I come from Mount Hiei," the priest replied.
Every eye was now suddenly fixed on him. "Mount Hiei? . . . But aren't you afraid to be found here?—From a temple on Mount Hiei, you say?"
"From Kurodani on the west. It is true that I belong on Mount Hiei, yet we are not all ruffians. The man whose disciple I am—and there are others too—seeks after the truth in solitude. There are many like him, seeking enlightenment of the Buddha in order to share the light with suffering man."
"Is this true? Is it possible that such men live on Mount Hiei today?" exclaimed the people incredulously, gathering about him eagerly.
"They do, but how can I expect you to believe me when you see those armed thousands? It is true that in the hidden valleys and in the depths of the forests on Mount Hiei the well-spring of light is not quenched. How can we, the priesthood, let the flame die when you who have lived through the sufferings of the Hogen and Heiji wars have not forgotten to love and comfort each other?"
"Your words give us hope, but if there are others like you, why do they not come down among u
s and teach us how to live?"
"But—" The monk's brows contracted in an expression of deep distress. "But do you, who have come here to pray among the ashes, not listen to the teachings of your priests here?"
"Liars, liars all of them! We believe nothing they say! Who will believe them when he sees this ruin? Better swallow offal than their words! They give us nothing but fine words when they're no better than thieves and make it their business to deceive us! Can we trust them? Do you wonder that we hate them?"
"Then you no longer believe them and despair?"
"Yes, and that is why we sit here lost, praying to these ashes."
"Ah, then the Buddha has at last come down among you! Believe me!"
"Enough of that! We want no such empty comfort!"
"You are right. You speak the truth. . . . But even though the holy image is gone from the sanctuary—reduced to ashes, the Kannon is still here."
"Where—where do you see the Kannon?"
"In the ashes themselves, about it."
"Aren't ashes only ashes?"
"Yes."
"What is there to see?"
"The divine presence cannot be seen."
"Show it to us. ... No, you're still too young for that. Is there no true priest who can show us the unseen while we still live?"
"There is. There's no reason to think that he does not exist."
"Where is he? Where is this priest?" clamored the people eagerly as they closed in about the monk.
"Ah—let me go, please," the monk pleaded, waving his hat and pushing his way through the crowd. "I have said too much. I cannot tell you that yet, but I am sure that there is such a man. He will come, among you soon. If he does not, then indeed are the teachings of the Buddha false, and paradise a lie— man's true destiny and all the precepts of Buddha but empty mouthing. Then, and then alone, will you have reason to despair. No, the vision and the light of truth have not vanished altogether from Mount Hiei."
His face hidden under his wide hat, the monk fled, crying out as he went: "Do not despair or lose faith in each other! Live on in courage until he comes!"
The crowd dispersed rapidly as many tried to pursue the monk; some followed him with yells of derision. Then the cloud of ashes settled down once more on the ruins.
A lay priest who appeared just then turned to stare at the flying figure.
"Who was that, Yasunori? I'm sure I've seen him before," remarked Saiko, a Fujiwara courtier and current favorite at the Cloister Palace, turning to a member of the Police Commission who accompanied him. "Do you recognize him?"
The officer, Yasunori, quickly replied: "Did you not meet him, sir, through the Abbot of Ninna-ji Temple?"
"Ah, that's it. I hear that the Tendai sect has none more learned than he. I do recall the Abbot telling me about him. A monk—what's his name?—who lives in Kurodani on Mount Hiei."
"That must be Honen."
"Honen—that's it, I was sure it was he. He never leaves his hermitage in Kurodani. ... I wonder what brought him down here."
"The destruction of the temple caused so much talk that curiosity probably got the better of him and he couldn't resist coming to see the ruins for himself."
"It must have been that," Saiko said, looking round him cautiously to make sure that no one had recognized him.
After viewing the ruins carefully, Saiko motioned to a retainer to bring him his horse, and shortly after was riding back to the Cloister Palace.
The Cloister Palace blazed with lights every night, for it was now Goshirakawa's custom to invite four or five of his favorites to dine with him in the evening. Saiko had just finished speaking. Goshirakawa, who listened closely to the priest's account of his visit to Kiyomizu Temple that afternoon, turned to Saiko, saying:
"So people are coming in great numbers to the ruins and praying to the ashes, you say? Comic and yet touching—something will have to be done soon to placate the Kofukuji monks so we can rebuild the temple. . . . Isn't that so, Toshitsunй?"
"Yes, your majesty," the courtier Toshitsunй replied, looking down, at a loss how he should continue, for he had returned in great distress a few days before from Nara. The Kofukuji monks had been obdurate, spurned all his overtures for a truce, and demanded that there should be no delay in punishing the authorities of Mount Hiei. Goshirakawa had received the news with a bare nod and gave no indication of what he thought. Toshitsunй, however, had seen that the monks of Kofukuji were preparing for a war. It also stood to reason that Goshirakawa knew that the monks would soon enter the capital with their sacred emblems to plunder and burn the temples in Mount Hiei's jurisdiction, and that Mount Hiei would retaliate in kind. Nor was there anything, short of a powerful army, to keep the monks from marching on the Cloister Palace and intimidating Goshirakawa himself. Until now it would have been a matter of course to call upon the Heike for support. Yet no one knew how Goshirakawa stood in relation to Kiyomori, for though the ex-Emperor's visit to Rokuhara had apparently dispelled Kiyomori's distrust of Goshirakawa, there was still some doubt as to what went on in Kiyomori's mind. Without him, however, there was no way to send the warriors out to repulse the monks.
Goshirakawa then turned to the priest: "Saiko, what are people in the capital saying nowadays about that recent affair?"
A shrewd look of comprehension entered Saiko's eyes as he inclined his head. "What is it that your majesty wishes to know?"
Goshirakawa turned his eyes full on Saiko. "There was a rumor all over the capital on the night Kiyomizu Temple burned down that I gave out secret orders to attack the Heike."
"It was so."
"But that is preposterous, Saiko; what do you think of this?"
The other guests listened intently for Saiko's reply. What they had just heard was a complete reversal of all that Goshirakawa had been urging until now. But the answer came without a moment's hesitation:
"Your majesty, the gods speak through the lips of men. Though your majesty may hesitate to say it, the people see how arrogant the Heike have grown and they have spoken for the gods, have they not?"
Goshirakawa nodded his agreement, then suddenly laughed aloud. "Enough, Saiko! You have said enough!"
No sooner did he realize that he could not dispense with Kiyomori, than Goshirakawa lost no time in courting his good will; his brother, Yorimori, and his brother-in-law, Tokitada, who had been banished from Kyoto, were quickly recalled. Goshirakawa soon saw Kiyomori's popularity increase at the Court and all over the capital.
Kiyomori, at the head of his warriors, went out to parley with the Kofukuji monks as they marched on Kyoto. In a day or two he succeeded in arranging a meeting between the heads of Mount Hiei and Kofukuji, with the result that the latter withdrew their forces to Nara. The swiftness of the amicable settlement that followed astounded the frightened populace and mystified Goshirakawa's followers. And even when Saiko learned the names of the three powerful leaders of Mount Hiei, proverbially hostile to the Heike, with whom Kiyomori had exchanged letters on several occasions, there was nothing to explain how Kiyomori had come to know them. Long since forgotten was that summer's day, eighteen years before, when Kiyomori defied the monks of Mount Hiei at Gion, and no one knew that he won a few friends among them by his daring.
In the following year, 1166, State Councilor Fujiwara Motozanй, to whom Kiyomori's second daughter was married, died suddenly at the early age of twenty-four. A year later Kiyomori was appointed a State Minister, with all the authority and prestige attached to this high post. He had just turned fifty; the new mansion at West Eighth Avenue had been completed; his labors, it seemed, had received their final reward. But new vistas continued to unfold before him, peak after challenging peak, for the triumph of the Heike was only beginning. His brothers and sons, still in their thirties or forties, all were high-ranking officials at the Court and in the government. Yet power and renown had come to Kiyomori without resort to force or to intrigues; his connections with the aristocracy had come without his seeking: both his daug
hter and his wife's sister Shigeko, had been sought after in marriage, the one by the former Regent for his son, the latter by the ex-Emperor Goshirakawa.
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