The Tales of the Heike

by Burton Watson

  Having crushed the Taira, Yoshinaka heads for the capital. Not knowing that Yoshinaka has already enlisted the help of the temple at Mount Hiei, the Taira petition the temple for help, only to be turned down. The Taira are then forced to flee west with Emperor Antoku and the three imperial regalia. Retired Emperor GoShirakawa also flees from the city but in a different direction.

  Tadanori Leaves the Capital (7:16)

  Taira no Tadanori, the governor of Satsuma, returned once more to the capital, although where he had been in the meantime is uncertain. Accompanied by five mounted warriors and a page, a party of seven horsemen in all, he rode along Gojō Avenue to the residence of Fujiwara no Shunzei.2 The gate of Shunzei’s mansion was closed and showed little sign of opening.

  When Tadanori announced his name, there was a bustle inside the gate, and voices called out, “Those men who fled from the city have come back!” Tadanori dismounted from his horse and spoke in a loud voice. “There is no cause for alarm. I have come back merely because I have something I would like to say to His Lordship. You need not open the gate—if you could just have him come here a moment….”

  “I was expecting this,” said Shunzei. “I’m sure he won’t make any trouble—let him in.”

  The gate was opened and Shunzei confronted his caller, whose whole bearing conveyed an air of melancholy.

  “You have been good enough to give me instruction for some years,” said Tadanori, “and I hope I have not been entirely unworthy of your kindness. But the disturbances in the capital in the last two or three years and the uprisings in the provinces have deeply affected all the members of my clan. Although I have not intended in any way to neglect my poetry studies, I fear I have not been as attentive to you as I should have been.

  “The emperor has already left the capital, and the fortunes of my family appear to have run out. I heard some time ago that you were going to compile an anthology of poetry at the request of the retired emperor. I had hoped that, if you would be so kind as to give your assent, I might have perhaps one poem included in it in fulfillment of my lifelong hopes. But then these disorders descended on the world and the matter of the anthology had to be put aside, a fact that grieves me deeply.

  “Should the state of the world become somewhat more settled, perhaps work on the anthology can be begun. I have here a scroll of poems. If in your kindness you could find even one of them to be worthy of inclusion, I will continue to rejoice long after I have gone to my grave and will forever be your guardian in the world beyond.”

  Reaching through the opening in his armor, Tadanori took out a scroll of poems and presented it to Lord Shunzei. From among the poems he had composed in recent years, he had selected some hundred or so that he thought were of superior quality and had brought them with him now that he was about to take final leave of the capital.

  As Shunzei opened the scroll and looked at it, he said, “Since you see fit to leave me with this precious memento of your work, you may rest assured that I will not treat it lightly. Please have no doubts on that score. And that you should present it to me now, as a token of your deep concern for the art of poetry, makes the gesture more moving than ever—so much so that I can scarcely hold back the tears!”

  Overjoyed at this response, Tadanori replied, “Perhaps I will find rest beneath the waves of the western ocean; perhaps my bones will be left to bleach on the mountain plain. Whatever may come, I can now take leave of this uncertain world without the least regret. And so I say good-bye!”

  With these words he mounted his horse, knotted the cords of his helmet, and rode off toward the west. Shunzei stood gazing after until the figure had receded far into the distance. And then it seemed that he could hear Tadanori reciting in a voice loud enough to be heard from afar:

  Long is the journey before me—my thoughts race

  with the evening clouds over Wild Goose Mountain.

  Deeply grieved at the parting, Shunzei wiped back the tears as he turned to reenter his house.

  Later, after peace had been restored and Shunzei had begun compiling the anthology known as the Senzaishū [The Collection of a Thousand Years],3 he recalled with deep emotion his farewell meeting with Tadanori and the words that the latter had spoken on that occasion. Among the poems that Tadanori had left behind were several that might have been included in the anthology. But since the anthology was being compiled by imperial command, Shunzei did not feel that he could refer to Tadanori by name. Instead, he selected one poem entitled “Blossoms in the Old Capital” and included it with the notation “author unknown.” The poem read:

  In ruins now, the old capital of Shiga by the waves,

  yet the wild cherries of Nagara still bloom as before.

  Because Tadanori was among those branded as enemies of the sovereign, perhaps less might have been said about him. And yet there is great pathos in his story.

  The Flight from Fukuhara (7:20)

  Palace Minister Munemori and the other Heike leaders, with the exception of Lord Koremori, took their wives and children with them when they left the capital. But for persons of less exalted station, such a course of action was impossible. They had to leave behind all their loved ones, never knowing when they might meet again. Even when the time of reunion is fixed, when promises have been made to return on such-and-such a day, at such-and-such an hour, how long is the interval of waiting! How much harder was it, then, for these people, this day their last together, the hour of parting even now at hand—little wonder that those departing and those left behind alike should wet their sleeves with tears.

  Some followed the Heike leaders because they recalled how for generations their families had served under them, others because they could not forget great kindnesses bestowed in more recent years or days. But whether young or old, now they had nothing but backward glances, barely able to tear themselves away. Some would go to spend their days on distant sea paths or sleep by wave-lapped beaches, others to journey far afield over steep mountain passes, whipping their horses onward, manning the rudders of their boats, each with his own thoughts, his own memories as he made his way in flight.

  When Palace Minister Munemori arrived at Fukuhara, the site of the former capital, he summoned the more important samurai who served under him, several hundred men both young and old, and addressed them as follows: “Blessings imparted to us through good deeds piled up in the past have now run out; misfortunes born of accumulated evil press down on us. And so the gods have turned against us, and the retired emperor has cast us aside. We have left the imperial city and now are travelers on the highway, with nowhere to turn.

  “But they say that even those who lodge for one night beneath the same tree are bound by karma from a former existence and that those who dip water from the same stream do so because of deep ties from other lifetimes. And how much deeper are the ties in our case! You are no mere one-day sojourners at our gate but retainers who have served our family for generation after generation. Ties of kinship link some of us, making us anything but strangers; generations of service in other cases have forged profound bonds between us. The prosperity of our clan in past times brought wave after wave of bounty to you, enabling you to fulfill your personal needs. Now, should you not consider how best to repay that debt of gratitude? The emperor, who gained his throne through observance of the Ten Good Precepts4 in a previous existence, has departed from the capital, taking with him the three imperial regalia.5 Wherever he may venture, to whatever faraway wilderness, to whatever remote mountain recess, should we not wait for and attend him?”

  The warriors, young and old alike in tears, replied, “Even lowly birds and beasts know how to repay a debt of kindness and show gratitude to those who have favored them. Why, then, should we, who are human beings, not be aware of what duty demands? For twenty years and more you have looked after our wives and children and tended to the wants of your followers—we owe everything to our lord’s beneficence. Moreover, we are fighting men, bearers of arms, trained to life in the sa
ddle—would we not count it a disgrace to be double-hearted? Therefore, wherever the ruler may go, be it beyond Japan to the lands of Silla or Paekche, Koguryo, or Pohai,6 to the end of the clouds or the end of the sea, we will never cease to attend him!”

  In different voices but speaking with one intent, they made their declaration, and all the Heike lords seemed heartened by their response.

  The Heike spent one night at Fukuhara, their former home. It was the beginning of autumn and the moon was a waning crescent. In the late hours of the night, when the moon had set, all was quiet, and in the travelers’ beds, mere makeshifts of grass, tears mingled with the dew, for everything around them moved them to sadness.

  Not knowing when they might return here again, they gazed about them at the various spots where the late prime minister Kiyomori had built his capital.

  For spring there had been the Flower-Viewing Knoll, for autumn, the Moon-Viewing Strand. The Hall of the Bubbling Spring, the Pine-Shaded Hall, the Riding Ground Hall, the two-story Viewing Stand Hall, the Snow-Viewing Palace, the Reed-Thatched Palace, the mansions of the nobles, the Temporary Imperial Palace built on orders from Lord Kunitsuna—their roof tiles in the shape of mandarin ducks, their terraces of precious stone—all had in the course of three years fallen into ruin. Old moss covered the pathways, autumn grasses blocked the gates. Pine seedlings sprouted from the roof tiles, vines had overgrown the walls. Tall buildings leaned to one side, encrusted with moss; only pine winds passed there now. Window blinds had rotted away, leaving the sleeping rooms exposed to view, but only the moon looked in.

  When dawn came, the Heike set fire to the imperial palace at Fukuhara, and Emperor Antoku and those accompanying him all took to the boats. Even though their departure was perhaps not as painful as that when they left the capital, it nevertheless filled them with regret.

  The evening smoke rising up from the seaweed fires of the fisherfolk, the dawn cries of deer on the hillcrest, the sound of the waves washing ashore in cove after cove, the moon reflected in the tears on their sleeves, the crickets chirping in a thousand autumn grasses—all that they saw, all that they heard seemed to overwhelm them with feeling, leaving nothing that did not wound their spirits.

  The more than one hundred thousand horsemen who only yesterday had set out bridle to bridle from the foot of Ausaka Barrier today were a mere seven thousand souls casting off their mooring lines amid the waves of the western ocean. The cloud-strewn sea was calm and still now, the bright day drawing to a close. The lone islands were veiled in evening mist, and the moon’s rays floated on the water.

  After staying overnight at Fukuhara, the Heike set fire to the palace (right) and prepare to depart for Kyushu by boat (left).

  Cleaving the waves of distant inlets, drawn on by sea tides as they sped forward, the boats seemed to mount the clouds in mid-sky. By now the capital was even farther away than the clouds, so many were the mountains and rivers that had come between. “What a long way we’ve journeyed!” they thought, and there was no end to their tears.

  Spying a flock of white birds resting on the waves, they exclaimed, “Ah yes! Ariwara no Narihira saw birds like these on the Sumida River and asked what they were called.” They were called “capital birds,” a name to stir sad memories in all who heard it.7

  The Heike departed from the capital on the twenty-fifth day of the Seventh Month, in the second year of the Juei era [1183].

  1. This is an allusion to the Shiji (Records of the Historian).

  2. Fujiwara no Shunzei (1114–1204) was a famous poet, scholar, and judge of waka contests.

  3. Senzaishū (1187) is the seventh imperial waka collection, edited by Shunzei.

  4. The Ten Good Precepts are the avoidance of killing, stealing, adultery, lying, duplicitous language, slandering, equivocating, coveting, anger, and false views.

  5. The regalia are a sword, a mirror, and a curved jewel.

  6. These all are places in what is now Korea and northeastern China.

  7. This is an allusion to The Tales of Ise, sec. 9.

  Retired Emperor GoShirakawa chooses his fourth son to be the new crown prince and installs him as emperor, a rival to the Taira’s sovereign, Antoku. No longer able to muster an army, the Taira are forced to take to the sea. Yoritomo is appointed shogun by Emperor GoShirakawa and subsequently requests an order to subjugate Yoshinaka, whose men have been plundering the capital. After Yoshinaka commits other excesses, Yoritomo is given permission to move against him and sends an army westward under the command of his brother Yoshitsune.

  KANEHIRA (Imai): retainer of Yoshinaka and son of his wet nurse.

  KUMAGAE NAOZANE (Minamoto): warrior.

  MUNEMORI (Taira): son of Kiyomori and Taira clan head.

  NORITSUNE (Taira): nephew of Kiyomori.

  SHIGEHIRA (Taira): son of Kiyomori; accused of the crime of burning Nara.

  TADANORI (Taira): brother of Kiyomori, warrior, and avid poet.

  YOSHINAKA (Minamoto): commander who defeats the Taira but is later attacked by Yoritomo; also called Lord Kiso.

  YOSHITSUNE (Minamoto): half brother of Yoritomo; sent to the capital to destroy Yoshinaka.

  Yoshitsune’s punitive army arrives just as Yoshinaka’s forces are at their weakest. Yoshinaka tries to set up defensive positions at Seta and Uji, outside the capital, but Yoshitsune is able to enter the capital and rescue Emperor GoShirakawa. Yoshinaka, who had earlier entered the capital with fifty thousand warriors, is forced to flee on horseback with six other riders.

  The Death of Lord Kiso (9:4)

  Lord Kiso had brought with him from Shinano two women attendants, Tomoe and Yamabuki. Yamabuki had remained in the capital because of illness. Of these two, Tomoe, fair complexioned and with long hair, was of exceptional beauty. As a fighter she was a match for a thousand ordinary men, skilled in arms, able to bend the stoutest bow, on horseback or on foot, ever ready with her sword to confront any devil or god that came her way. She could manage the most unruly horse and gallop down the steepest slopes. Lord Kiso sent her into battle clad in finely meshed armor and equipped with a sword of unusual size and a powerful bow, depending on her to perform as one of his leading commanders. Again and again she emerged unrivaled in feats of valor. And this time too, even though so many of Lord Kiso’s other riders had fled from his side or been struck down, Tomoe was among the six who remained with him.

  Certain reports claimed that Yoshinaka was heading toward Tanba by way of Long Slope; others, that he had crossed over Ryūge Pass and was proceeding to the northern provinces. In fact he was fleeing west toward Seta, anxious to discover where Imai Kanehira and his men were. Meanwhile, Imai had been defending his position at Seta with the eight hundred or more men under him. But when his forces had been reduced by fighting to a mere fifty riders, he furled his banners and started back toward the capital, thinking that his superior in command, Yoshinaka, must be wondering about him. In Ōtsu, at a place on the Lake Biwa shore called Uchide, he met up with Lord Kiso as the latter was headed west.

  While still some distance apart, Lord Kiso and Imai recognized each other and spurred their horses forward in anticipation of the meeting. Seizing Imai’s hand, Lord Kiso exclaimed, “I had intended to die in the fighting in the riverbed at Rokujō, but I wanted so much to find out what had become of you. That’s why I dodged my way through all those enemy troops and slipped off so I could come here!”

  “Your words do me great honor,” replied Imai. “I, too, had fully expected to die in the encounter at Seta, but I hastened here in hopes of finding out how you were faring.”

  “The bonds that link us have not come to an end yet!” said Lord Kiso. “My own forces have been broken up and scattered by the enemy, but they have most likely taken shelter in the hills and woods hereabouts and are still in the vicinity. Unfurl those banners you are carrying and raise them high!”

  When Imai hoisted the banners, more than three hundred friendly horsemen, spotting them, gathered around, some having escap
ed from the capital, others from the troops that had fled from Seta.

  Yoshinaka was overjoyed. “With a force this size, there’s no reason we can’t fight one last battle!” he said. “Whose men are those I see massed there in the distance?”

  “I believe they’re under the command of Lord Ichijō Tadayori of Kai.”

  “How many men would you say there are?”

  “Some six thousand or more, I would judge.”

  “They will make an excellent opponent. If we are to die in any case, let’s confront a worthy foe and meet death in the midst of a great army!” With these words, he spurred his horse forward.

  That day Yoshinaka was wearing a red brocade battle robe and a suit of finely laced armor. He had a horned helmet on his head and carried a sword of forbidding size. On his back was a quiver containing the arrows left from the day’s fighting, fledged with eagle tail-feathers, their tips projecting above his head, and in his hand he grasped a bow bound with rattan. He rode his famed horse Oniashige or Demon Roan, a powerful beast of brawny build, and was seated in a gold-rimmed saddle.

  Raising himself up in his stirrups, he called out his name in a loud voice. “From times past you’ve heard of him: Kiso no Kanja. Now take a look at him! Minamoto no Yoshinaka, director of the Imperial Stables of the Left, governor of Iyo, the Rising Sun Commander! And you, I hear, are Ichijō of Kai. We are well matched. Come attack me and show that man in Kamakura—Yoritomo—what you can do!” Shouting these words, he galloped forward.

  Ichijō of Kai addressed his troops. “The one who just spoke is the commander. Don’t let him get away, men! After him, you young fellows! Attack!” Vastly superior in number, Ichijō’s troops surrounded Yoshinaka, each man eager to be the first to get at him.