The Heike Story (54 page)

But Tokiwa heard nothing; grief threatened to unhinge her mind and she wept as if she would drown in her own tears. Only the child at her breast recalled her to herself, for the wildness of her sorrow frightened him and he cried pitifully.

On the following day, by trickery and cajoling, Tomizo induced Tokiwa to climb into the dilapidated cart with her three children, leaving the tearful nursemaid Yomogi behind. Smacking his lips over the thought of the reward that awaited him, Tomizo whipped up his ox and hurried forward to the capital.

When at last they arrived at the house in which Tokiwa's mother had lived, they found it empty, stripped of its furnishings and everything valuable.

"Well, we might as well spend the night here," Tomizo said, lifting Tokiwa and the children out of the cart, and carrying bedding, cooking utensils, and their few pathetic belongings into the house. "This won't do—the lot of you crying; you must be hungry. I'll see what can be done about some food."

After making some purchases in the market, Tomizo set about cooking, feeding his charges truculently as though they were paupers who had been forced on him. "Get on, now; get done with your eating and then off to sleep," he scolded, with harsh looks for Imawaka and Otowaka. Not long after, Tomizo started off on a visit to one of his cronies in the city.

It was clear to Tokiwa now what her avaricious uncle had in mind. He intended to deliver her over to Kiyomori and collect the reward for himself. She saw no way to escape, for to do so would endanger her mother's life; nor was flight with three helpless children to be thought of. In her despair the thought of doing away with herself and her children recurred to her persistently, but each time the memory of Yoshitomo's last letter held her back.

What is there to say in the bitterness of defeat? I cannot even come to you for a last farewell, for I am on my way—where I do not know. Some day I will surely return for you. Hide in the wilderness, in the hills if need be. Let no harm come to my beloved children, I beseech you. Though many mountains and rivers come between us, remember that I love you forever. And this I implore—that you will not cast away your life in despair.

Those words were inscribed in Tokiwa's memory now like some familiar passage from the Kannon sutras, and whenever death beckoned and whispered to her, she recited them to herself as though they were a prayer against evil.

But all hope had died in her; Yoshitomo was dead, and tomorrow, she believed, would be her last day on earth. Then she suddenly remembered that she had not taken leave of Lady Shimeko, in whose household she had served for nine years. Clasping her youngest in her arms, a child clinging to her on either side, Tokiwa set out into the dusk for the palace on Ninth Avenue, not far off. She was familiar with the entrances to the palace and made her way to the West Gate, where the under-servants knew her. In the gentlewomen's quarters she was soon surrounded by her old friends, who plied her with anxious questions about where she had been, and wept over Tokiwa and her children.

Lady Shimeko soon summoned Tokiwa and greeted her with tears, saying: "Ah, Tokiwa, what sad change is this that has come over you? Why did you not come to me sooner?"

Relief was mingled with rejoicing in Lady Shimeko's household, where there had been great fear that Kiyomori suspected their mistress of having concealed Tokiwa or connived at her escape. And Tokiwa's former companions praised her for having stayed hidden so long and wept because she had returned to her mistress for a last farewell.

"I humbly beg to say that I am Tomizo, the ox-dealer from Mimata—Tokiwa's uncle," said an individual who appeared at Rokuhara toward sundown. Tokitada, Kiyomori's brother-in-law, when told that a man had come with information about Tokiwa, ordered the man to be locked up in the guardhouse.

"This is no joking matter," Tomizo protested to the guard. "I've come a long way to tell you where you'll find this woman you're after, and I want that reward, I say! I don't even get a word of thanks for my pains. . . . What do you mean by throwing me into this hole?"

Tokitada had followed the instructions he had received from Kiyomori, who was disgusted by the number of informers who came to Rokuhara. Many, prompted by greed and desire for self-advancement, were eager to betray former benefactors or the innocent, and Kiyomori had, therefore, ordered Tokitada to open the eyes of such individuals to their own baseness and to send them packing.

Late that night Tokitada related the events of the evening to Kiyomori. "And now what do you wish me to do next?"

"Do next?" Kiyomori replied moodily, and lapsed into silence. The question reminded him unpleasantly of his recent words with his stepmother over Yoritomo's fate. He finally said: "Let Itogo see to Tokiwa."

"You wish him to arrest Tokiwa and bring her and the children here?"

"Yes. He won't need more than a few soldiers for that."

"No, not for a woman with three helpless children."

"If it's true that this uncle of hers found Tokiwa hiding in Yamato and brought her here, then she must have intended in any case to give herself up in order to save her mother."

"Her uncle said nothing of that."

"Naturally not. The rascal's after money and that's why he came to inform against her. He was a hanger-on in Yoshitomo's household and undoubtedly has much to thank his niece for—the ungrateful rascal! See that he gets what he deserves."

"That will be taken care of."

"And tell Itogo when he goes to arrest Tokiwa that he's not to ill-use her or her children."

"I'll tell him that."

"For the time being, he will have charge of the prisoners. He'll hear from me later on when I've had time to think things over."

Tokitada left at once with the orders for Itogo, who started off at dawn with a handful of soldiers for the house on Sixth Avenue. Arrived there, Itogo found the house empty; from householders in the neighborhood, he soon learned that Tokiwa had gone the previous evening to the palace on Ninth Avenue. Lest the appearance of armed men provoke disorder, Itogo quickly made himself known to the palace steward, explaining that he had been sent from Rokuhara to arrest Tokiwa. The steward in his turn assured Itogo that no attempt had been made to shelter a fugitive. Tokiwa, he said, was even now preparing to leave for Rokuhara to give herself up.

While Itogo and his men waited in the guard-house of an inner gate, Tokiwa made ready for her departure. This past night, spent in safety among friends who cared for her, had so comforted her that she found the last leave-taking had lost much of its bitterness. Rising early, she bathed and carefully arranged her hair. Opening her dressing-case, she seated herself before a mirror and was surprised by the serenity of the image that looked back at her from its depth. The powder clung smoothly to her skin and she bloomed under the final touches of her toilette.

Tokiwa's eldest son peered at his mother's reflection to ask: "Where are you going, Mother?" and danced with joy when told.

"Somewhere nice—and you are to come with me."

Adorned in the robes that Lady Shimeko and her gentlewomen had given her, Tokiwa reappeared before her mistress and, bowing low, said:

"Though I expect never to return, I cannot forget how good you were to me through the years—nor your kindness to me last night."

Lady Shimeko's voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned toward Tokiwa: "It is best to be resigned to your fate, but do not lose hope entirely. I shall ask my father to speak to Lord Kiyomori."

While the gentlewomen, shedding tears, waited on Imawaka and Otowaka at their morning meal, Tokiwa nursed her youngest for the last time.

Meanwhile, Itogo and his soldiers were growing impatient, and could be heard demanding that Tokiwa start at once. Lady Shimeko quickly sent a message by her steward, asking that Tokiwa be allowed to take her carriage. To this Itogo replied: "It's not customary to let prisoners ride, but because of the children, I see no harm in it."

Shortly after, a lady's carriage, guarded by foot-soldiers, rolled through a rear gate, along the capital's main avenues and down the side-streets.

THE MOTHER

Kiyomori slept poorly that night. There seemed to be no reason for it; if pressed for a reason he would have replied that he was feeling the unaccustomed strain of his official duties—the numerous councils of state, the multitude of court functions. Yet for all his rough and ready ways and his outward contempt for formalities and ritual, Kiyomori was vulnerable. He felt no need for Ariko's or his son's advice for dealing with Tokiwa and her children, for the news of their capture had disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

"Have you seen them, Tokitada?" Kiyomori inquired toward noon of the following day.

"Yes, I have seen them. Everything has been carried out as you ordered. Itogo now has them in custody and under strict guard."

"Do they seem comfortable?"

"The baby cries from time to time and Tokiwa herself looks worn."

"She whose beauty was once the talk and envy of the court ladies and the common people."

"Only twenty-three and the mother of three. It is hard to believe that all those weeks of flight and starvation have not marred her looks. There is a pathos in her beauty now."

"Hmm?"

"About the trial—do you wish me or Itogo to question her and submit the necessary evidence?"

"No," Kiyomori replied at once with a shake of the head. "Let me cross-examine her myself. She is Yoshitomo's widow and has his three sons with her. This is a matter that I alone should deal with."

Tokitada had heard something of the repercussions from Ariko's appeal in behalf of Yoritomo and concluded that Kiyomori was anxious to settle the matter of Tokiwa's fate before his stepmother took it upon herself to interfere.

"When do you wish to see the prisoner?"

"The sooner the better—before evening."

A visitor was announced just as Tokitada left. It was a courtier, Fujiwara Koremichi, come on behalf of his daughter Lady Shimeko. Kiyomori received him cordially.

"Naturally I would not suspect Lady Shimeko. I'm surprised that you of all people should come to me about this. A pity indeed that there are not more like you at Court to advise us in times like this."

Kiyomori had a secret liking for Koremichi and sensed that the feeling was mutual. By the time his caller was ready to depart, Kiyomori had exchanged far more cups of wine with his guest than was his habit, and while he was still in a genial mood, Tokitada once more appeared to say that the prisoner was ready.

Kiyomori strode down a gallery leading toward the west wing. The mansion was undergoing some extensive repairs and additions, and he picked his way carefully toward a room of an inner court where the garden was being enlarged.

"Where did you say they were?"

"Over there."

"Below—there?"

Kiyomori stepped toward a balustrade and looked down. Tokiwa knelt on a straw mat, head bowed; on either side of her sat a child, tightly clutching her sleeves.

"Itogo, give the woman and the children kneeling-cushions," Kiyomori ordered as he seated himself in the center of the audience room. Itogo looked puzzled and ill at ease. It was not customary to treat prisoners like this.

"Here, bring them up here," Kiyomori said, jerking his head in the direction of the gallery on which the room opened.

Itogo was not the only one who appeared surprised; there was no mistake, however, that Kiyomori meant the gallery.

"Here, my lord?"

Kiyomori nodded as Itogo placed three cushions at the top of the stairs leading up from the courtyard. Tokitada motioned Tokiwa to approach. She looked up trembling and drew her frightened children close. Itogo then spoke to her:

"Go up as you've been ordered to. Take your seats there."

Tokiwa rose, clasping her infant in one arm, and holding Otowaka's small hand, she came forward and slowly ascended the stairs with Imawaka clinging to her robes.

As Tokiwa approached, Kiyomori felt his nerves tingle—expectant. So this was the incomparable beauty whose name had once been on every tongue!

"Are you unhappy, Tokiwa?"

"No, I have no more tears to shed. I implore you to have pity on my mother. Let her go free, I beg you, my lord."

"Hmm—that shall be done," Kiyomori said at once, and then continued: "Where have you been hiding until now? What made you flee with your children?"