The Heike Story (67 page)

Kichiji turned round. "Was it you that called me?" he asked skeptically, staring at the little fellow who prostrated himself like a beggar in his path. "I don't know who you are. Never seen you before. What do you mean by getting in the way?"

"Yes, yes, you must pardon me for delaying you. . . . I— I'm Asatori, a nobody from the slums on the Street of the Ox-Dealers."

"You must be mistaking me for someone else. What did you say you were?"

"I live on the Street of the Ox-Dealers—in the slums; there's a wheelwright there called Ryozen. . . . And this morning I heard him and his wife crying so loudly that I went to see what was wrong and found that a dealer in women and children, called the Serpent, had carried off their only daughter Asuka. . . . They were in utter despair."

Kichiji turned round in his saddle. A commotion seemed to have started among his train, who were restraining a screaming girl.

"Asatori, save me! Asatori!"

"Is it you, Asuka? Wait. . . . It's all right. I'll take care of you!"

Asatori got to his feet, waved back in reply, and then clung to Kichiji's saddle beseeching him.

"That's enough nonsense, you puppeteer!" hissed the Serpent, pushing his way through the group of escorts and seizing Asatori by the collar. "What do you mean by saying that I took her away by force? You don't seem to know that her father's been sick for a long time and that I've been lending him money all along. He and his wife begged me to do something for this child because they can't feed her any longer. It doesn't pay, but I begged the master here to take her along with him. . . . What do you mean by interfering?"

Asatori had not the strength or courage to resist the Serpent's knotty arms, which jabbed angrily at his small frame and twisted it. All that Asatori could do was flail helplessly at the air with his legs.

"I'll pay you back," he gasped, "I'll pay you back somehow!"

"You liar, do you think I believe you? Get on home! What do you mean by whining and delaying the master as he starts out?" said the Serpent, threatening to knock his victim down. Kichiji, alarmed, leaned over in his saddle.

"That's enough, Serpent."

"But, master, he'll do it again."

"No, Serpent, let the child go. We don't want to harm anyone. I told you, didn't I, that you were not to force her?"

"The money I lent her sick father isn't much, but they can't even feed the child, so I meant to help them."

"Never mind, let her go. I'm no ogre."

Asatori prostrated himself again before Kichiji, then beckoned to Asuka, who ran to him and threw herself on his breast, sobbing

"Don't cry," Asatori soothed, wiping the tears from her grimy cheeks; "don't cry now, Asuka. You needn't be afraid. Let's go home."

An exquisite little face looked up at him and broke into timid smiles. Kichiji and his train had already vanished.

Hand in hand the two made their way down the hill. No sooner were they out of sight than two horsemen emerged from the woods at the top of the hill and started down toward the capital.

"Bamboku, was that the man?" called Tokitada.

"Yes—"

"Is that the Kichiji you were talking about?"

"Yes, what do you think of him?"

"Nothing specially wrong with him as far as I can see. As merchants go, rather more decent than you, eh?"

"Than me? . . . Very discerning of you, sir!" Bamboku laughed.

"At least more heart than you, Nose. I don't see why he let that rascal buy the girl anyway, but at least he showed some sign of being decent—letting her go."

"And you think I wouldn't, do you?"

Tokitada laughed, but did not reply. "Asuka—Asuka. Pretty name," he said to himself. "No wonder the Serpent had his eye on her. . . . Extraordinary how such blossoms spring up out of the filth in the slums."

THREE DREAMS

Tokitada was up early the following morning. His carriage and an impressive escort of warriors and grooms awaited him at the door, where he appeared in his court regalia. The equipage soon drew up at a gate in Rokuhara; Tokitada sent in a message to announce his arrival and to inquire whether the mistress was ready. An elegant lady's carriage stood waiting under the portico; purple tassels hung from its blinds; not a speck of dust showed on the gay lacquered body and roof; the gold and silver metalwork with threadlike engravings of ethereal birds and butterflies glittered blindingly. More dazzling, however, than the carriage itself were the two figures who approached the portico by an open gallery, surrounded by a fluttering bevy of waiting-women.

"I'm afraid I kept you waiting, Tokitada," said Tokiko, who was accompanied by her seven-year-old daughter.

"Ah, Tokiko, I hardly recognized you in all your finery!"

"It's not often that I pay a call at the Cloister Palace. . . . And besides, it's spring now."

"You look splendid, indeed! I'm sure no one objects to your turning yourself out so becomingly—no matter how gorgeously. May I suggest that my advice to you has taken effect?"

"Do stop teasing me. The servants are watching us and can hardly keep from laughing."

"Let them laugh. I don't see why you women are afraid to laugh. Serious women like Lady Ariko are too much for me. We can't have you take after her. . . . Isn't that so, Tokuko?" Tokitada said, stroking his niece's glossy hair. " 'Princess,' come ride with me in my carriage and I'll tell you stories." As Tokitada stooped to pick up his niece, the child hid herself behind her mother's skirts and peeped up at him, shaking her head. The waiting-women who stood about laughed aloud as Tokiko picked up her daughter and stepped into her carriage.

Tokitada's carriage followed Tokiko's, and rolled along the tree-flanked avenue in Rokuhara, with their retinue.

Tokiko scarcely ever went outside Rokuhara; whenever she did, an elaborate escort of warriors always accompanied her. For so many years now she had been occupied with her many children—nine, she often marveled to herself. Her husband was in his prime, Tokiko herself in her early forties. And with a gay, philandering husband, Tokiko had begun to realize that she must keep herself from aging too soon. Kiyomori's affair with Tokiwa a year ago had taught her a bitter lesson and cost her many a heartache. She had often prayed at that time that he would not become more successful, that there would not be another such affair. . . .

To the swaying of her carriage, Tokiko became preoccupied with bitter reflections: forty—her confidence in her physical charms waning. For a man, fortified with experience and wisdom, it was the perfect age for deeds, the accomplishing of great things; the time had come when she must cope with an intractable grown child. . . .

Tokiko's carriage jolted to a stop and she found Tokitada's drawn up beside hers.

"Tokiko, roll up your blinds and take a look round."

"Where—where are we now?"

"West Eighth Avenue—the opposite side of the river from Rokuhara—there's the hamlet of Shimabara, Mibu. There the Kamiya and Omura rivers. . . . Farther south you can see the Yodo River. A magnificent view, isn't it?"

"What made you bring us to this out-of-the-way place? Aren't we going in the opposite direction from the Palace?"

"No, it's not really out of our way. . . . Look, Tokiko, just see for yourself—the thousands of men at work over there!"

"What are they doing?"

"They're building new roads. See those men digging, carrying soil, and getting on with the work? Hear that faint sound off in the distance? That's the stonemasons and carpenters and the others at work. In another six months you won't recognize this place."

"And what are they building here?"

"Mansions and palaces. There'll be a town springing up here in no time—in fact, a city within the city, a great Heike center!"

"Won't Rokuhara do?"

"Rokuhara's too cramped now. I'm sure Kiyomori is thinking of the future, and there's no telling what a man of his talents will do. He's undoubtedly born to be great and you're his wife. Don't forget that, Tokiko."

"Tokitada, do you really believe that that would make me happy?"

"You're a woman and I should think you have every reason to congratulate yourself on having such a man for your husband."

"Nonsense, Tokitada, Rokuhara suits me perfectly. All this will mean just that much more to worry about. I wish you would discourage him from it."

To Tokitada's surprise, Tokiko drew the blinds of her carriage impatiently. He had taken the trouble to bring her here in the certainty that she would be pleased, and he began to wonder whether he had only brought up another subject for marital discord.

'Tokitada heaved a sigh. ". . . These women, I can't understand them. More grasping than men, more tenacious, and yet they don't seem to enjoy the right things."

The two carriages soon approached the Cloister Palace along the canal at Eighth Avenue.

Tokiko's younger sister, Shigeko, had only last year given birth to the abdicated Goshirakawa's third son, Prince Noribito, and several times begged Tokiko to come and see the infant Prince. Etiquette, however, prevented Tokiko from complying with her sister's wishes until the ex-Emperor himself had sent her an invitation.

"How boring! . . ." Tokitada sighed as he waited. He had come with Tokiko only as her official escort, and was not admitted to the inner apartments, from which voices and the sound of laughter reached his ears. The fretful cries of an infant suddenly startled Tokitada with the realization that he was himself the uncle of the new Prince. It was an astounding thought. One never could tell . . . related to the imperial house. . . . What would his father, an impoverished nobleman, have said if he were alive? Tokitada's thoughts traveled back to his boyhood. They had been so poor that he had taken to cockfighting to see if he couldn't turn a penny by gambling. . . . His thoughts raced ahead into the future: power, glory, splendor outrivaling the Fujiwara! The sound of his sisters' laughter interrupted his reveries once more. Happiness—yes, joy—but how different theirs from his.

The ex-Emperor himself pressed Tokiko to remain for the evening meal, and Tokitada soon joined them. The ex-Emperor drew Tokiko's daughter to him, petting her with the remark: "They say daughters look like their fathers, and that sons take after the mother, and this little one seems to resemble Kiyomori."

Tokiko's joy was unbounded as she watched the ex-Emperor caressing Tokuko and repeating from time to time: "Pretty little thing, such a pretty child! . . ." Nothing, she felt, could equal the honor of these gracious words.

"Tokiko, how many children do you have?" her royal host inquired.

Tokiko replied with a laugh: "So many that I can hardly count them."

"More sons than daughters?"

"More daughters."

"And which is this little one?"

"Our third daughter."

"So many children that you can't remember exactly. Then you surely won't mind if this one comes to live with her aunt, would you?" the ex-Emperor Goshirakawa said, smiling. "Wouldn't you like that, little one?"

The child showed signs of tears; pushing away Goshirakawa's arms she ran to her mother.

"As you can see, your majesty, she is still a baby."

"That's so, but she must come to visit her aunt often to get acquainted. And after that stay here?"

Goshirakawa then turned his attention to Tokiko, courteously inquiring about her and her household and the life at Rokuhara; he talked to her about Kiyomori—his strong points and failings—and encouraged her about her husband's future. So completely charmed was she by the ex-Emperor that Tokiko in spite of herself was soon confiding in him. He coaxed from her by his sympathetic air some of the grievances she nursed against her spouse, and without censuring Kiyomori chose just those tactful replies which most pleased her, by saying:

"No, it's not an easy thing for a woman to be married to such a gifted man. ... On the other hand you'd be most unhappy with a spineless husband."

"No, I'm sure that an ordinary dull fellow, though poor, who stays at home and pays some attention to his wife would be far more to my liking."

"Yes, he is a most restless individual, driven on forever by his dreams."