The Heike Story (72 page)

"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!"

"That doesn't interest me in the least. I'm neither a Genji nor a Heike, so nothing worries me now, but I'm a physician and my conscience would trouble me if I didn't do something for her."

"Must you see her?"

"It's nothing serious, just the heat that's affected her. I could make her more comfortable in no time. No one over there would recognize me. There'd be no harm in it if I went alone. You'd better stay right here, Yomogi."

Asatori started off once more for the temple gate. At the sound of his cautious approach, the group around the sick woman glanced at him suspiciously, but his kindly looks and his assurances that he was a physician soon dispelled their fears. The young officer, too, welcomed him. After silently scrutinizing the woman's features, Asatori finally took her pulse, felt her all over, and then began his treatment; deftly he administered acupuncture at various points in her body; then he rolled a few pills into the palm of his hand and turned to the dancing-girls who were looking on: "One of you take these, chew them, and force them between her lips," he said. The manservant motioned to the dancing-girls, who drew back. Then one of them pushed a younger one toward Asatori, saying: "Giwo, you should do it. You've always been like a daughter to Toji, and you're her favorite."

". . . . If that's you all want me to do," the young girl, Giwo, replied, quickly untying the cords of her wide hat and laying it down to one side. She took her place beside Asatori, extending a delicate, translucent hand; the palm was turned up to receive some minute pearl-colored pellets, when Giwo suddenly exclaimed:

"You!"

"Asuka! Can it really be you?"

The small globes melted away between her fingers.

"Dear me, this won't do!" Asatori cried. Fearing that the others had heard him, he quickly poured out a few more pills from his medicine pouch, saying: "Now give these to her at once. . . . Open her mouth—now some water."

An ox-cart arrived in the meantime, and the young officer went off to mount his horse, directing a soldier to take charge.

"Now get her onto the cart. It may be rather uncomfortable, and the rest of you, except this man, ride with her. Let me look at the patient once more. From her color, she seems to be much better."

The dancing-girls then turned to the soldier who was to accompany them, saying: "We were most fortunate in meeting that kind officer. Can you tell us who he is?"

The warrior replied: "It's only a short time since he came to the capital from Kumano. He's Tadanori, Lord Kiyomori's half-brother, and an officer of the Police Commission."

The dancing-girls gazed after the disappearing figure, remarking: "Lord Kiyomori's half-brother—Tadanori?"

As they turned to climb into the cart, the young women stopped to thank Asatori, but found him gone.

The heavy downpour soon abated and Tadanori, his armor soaked and his horse steaming, arrived at Funaoka Hill. As he neared the hill, an officer commanding the Guards on the eastern side called to him sharply:

"Tadanori, where were you?"

"I was clearing the route as you ordered."

"Very well, but what about your men?"

"We found a sick woman on the road and I had them fetch her an ox-cart. They should arrive shortly, sir."

"I hear the route is crowded with people, but it's not your business to be caring for the sick. Let these people look after themselves."

"Yes, sir."

Tadanori took the rebuke quietly, abashed at the thought of his inexperience and rustic upbringing. It was only a few weeks since he had accompanied Kiyomori, his half-brother, from Kumano. Shortly after arriving in the capital, Tadanori had been assigned to the lowest rank in the Police Commission. The officer who had just spoken to him was Norimori, Kiyomori's youngest brother. The funeral was Tadanori's first chance to take part in an important public function, and it was only natural that he should find his duties bewildering, though he had only a few warriors to command.

The sky soon cleared and a rainbow appeared, causing a flurry of excitement among the functionaries, who hurried to complete the final arrangements while there was light.

The imperial tomb was on Funaoka Hill, where a. stone vault lay ready to receive the coffin. Palings enclosed the foot of the hill and the Koryuji Temple at its base; within were curtained pavilions for the titled mourners, the temple dignitaries, and the performers of sacred music; everywhere were funeral banners and the clustered branches of the "sacred tree."

Here the representatives of the greater and lesser monasteries of Nara and Mount Hiei would soon arrive to take up their positions in the strictly prescribed order of rank fixed by custom. From times immemorial the Todaiji monastery, under court patronage, ranked first among the seven main temple groups; after them came the Kofukuji bishops of Nara. The Enryakuji monastery of Mount Hiei ranked third, with the other monasteries following in diminishing order of importance.

Darkness fell; the stars blazed down blue and clear and a primeval silence filled the night as the long funeral cortege slowly crept toward Funaoka. Watch-fires lighted up the hill where streaming banners, crested with emblems of the sun and moon, writhed like dragons against the sky. But a sudden turmoil broke the spell when the ecclesiastics of Kofukuji found that the Enryakuji priests had occupied their position on the hill. Angry roars filled the air and torches waved menacingly as the Kofukuji monks prepared to fall on their rivals with broadswords and halberds. Then their anguished Abbot appeared, exhorting his followers to desist from violence. Two deputies were sent off at once to demand apologies from Enryakuji.

Reports of the disturbance soon reached Norimori at the main gate; quickly ordering the captains of the Guards to follow him, he made his way to the scene of the dispute. Tadanori, who accompanied his half-brother, found he could make nothing of the situation and stood in blank amazement among the raging monks.

"Tadanori, why aren't you in there putting down the rioters!" Norimori cried, pointing at some of the Kofukuji monks.

"These or the others over there?" Tadanori called back.

"Yes, those—don't let them come any farther!"

"By any means?"

"Short of drawing your sword," was the answer as Tadanori plunged fearlessly into the angry mob at which Norimori had pointed.

Deliberate in temper, naturally courageous, and hardened by the rigorous training he had received from childhood in Kumano, Tadanori swept up the first monk who attacked him and flung him bodily at another. Assailant after assailant went down as Tadanori, nimbly wrenched away halberds and struck at his attackers.

Someone cried out: "Who's that fellow there?"

"Not one of the monks. . . ."

"If he's not one of us, then he's one of the police or a Heike!"

The raging monks wavered and fell back as Tadanori laid about him singlehanded until Norimori rode in among the struggling monks shouting:

"Back, back! The imperial carriage has arrived!"

At the bottom of the hill, marching flames marked the progress of the approaching cortege, and the clamoring mob suddenly grew silent; the wounded were carried off swiftly, and disordered robes hurriedly rearranged to conceal armor and the long swords under them. The monks of Enryakuji discovered too late that their rivals had ousted them from their position, for the funeral carriage had reached the foot of Funaoka Hill in a blaze of torches, and silence enveloped the mourning crowds.

Flanked by white-robed mourners and high-ranking officials, the funeral carriage rolled by. Countless candles burned; blazing watch-fires and thousands of torches illumined Funaoka Hill, where the gates finally swung open to receive the imperial coffin.

The requiem ended, the lustration rites over, a new day dawned. Watch-fires paled and the vast crowds melted away to the last strains of a dirge. Mounted warriors, litters, carriages, and common folk on foot streamed back toward the capital.

Last night's dispute between the monks, however, provided the departing people with speculations and gossip, and uppermost in their minds was the question of how soon fighting would break out between Enryakuji and Kofukuji. Already there were rumors that the ex-Emperor and his advisers had caused the disturbance to stir up further enmity between the rival monasteries, and even as the earliest arrivals set foot in Kyoto, new reports were heard that the Cloistered Emperor had sent his deputies to confer with the Enryakuji monks, who were rallying, fully armed, at West Sakamoto.

Late that summer Kiyomori's family and numerous servants and retainers moved to the new mansion on the opposite bank of the Kamo from Rokuhara, though Kiyomori himself remained at Rokuhara. He had not, in fact, returned to his home for more than ten days after the imperial funeral, but stayed at Court attending to the innumerable arrangements that opened a new reign.

The new ruler was barely two years old, and everything relating to state affairs was necessarily in the hands of a few senior court officers. Since his old and trusted friend, the Prime Minister, Koremichi, was now dead, Kiyomori felt it his duty to preside over the state councils. A new array of faces, inexperienced and absurdly youthful, surrounded him, and Kiyomori could only shake his head as he looked round at them. The late Prime Minister's several sons filled various key posts—the youngest, only sixteen, was Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal. Tsunemunй, still the suave courtier after all the changes of his fortunes, had been made Minister of the Right. Nothing, Kiyomori thought, had changed at Court. The Regent, the Lord High Chancellor, and the state ministers—all were Fujiwara. And nothing could please the Cloistered Emperor Goshirakawa more or suit his purposes better than this, Kiyomori reflected with misgivings.

Though appointed only a State Councilor and General of the Guards of the Left, authority was thrust upon Kiyomori and objections to his exercising powers to which his rank did not entitle him soon subsided. The Court, the seat of government, however, was empty, and Kiyomori found himself presiding over state councils whose principal members were absent. The Regent and the ministers were occupied elsewhere—at the Cloister Palace, currying favor with the ex-Emperor Goshirakawa.

"There's no end to this waiting," Kiyomori told himself at length. "If I stay here much longer I shall have to act for the Regent himself. . . ." For the first time in many days Kiyomori recalled Rokuhara and prepared to go home. As he drove away from the Office of Court Affairs, he looked up at the sky. Autumn already! Shut in for so long, he was invigorated by the freshness of the air. As he drew up at the Guard Office, several captains saluted him.

"On your way home, sir?" they asked with looks of relief.

"But what's this—you're all armed?" Kiyomori replied, looking round suspiciously at the several hundreds of armed warriors from Rokuhara.

Just then Kiyomori's brother, Tsunemori, appeared beside the carriage. He gave one look at Kiyomori s tired face and then whispered: "Then you haven't heard yet? The rumor is all over the Court and I was sure that you knew."

"Knew what? What's all this about? Has something gone wrong at Rokuhara?"

"Nothing to worry about yet and Rokuhara's well guarded."

"What's happened," Kiyomori persisted. "Why are you fully armed?"

"The monks of Mount Hiei—"

"What of them?"

"It's still a rumor, but we hear that the Cloistered Emperor is inciting them. We can't afford to take risks."

"What? Are you trying to tell me that he's stirred up the monks against me?" Kiyomori laughed aloud. "Nonsense! What utter nonsense!" he cried, and without listening further to Tsunemori ordered the ox-tender to drive on.

As with rumors of this kind, no one knew where they started. Their causes remained wrapped in obscurity. But it was common knowledge now that the Imperial Guards were chosen only from among the Heike; that the swaggering of the lowest Heike soldier was creating resentment everywhere; that Kiyomori had vast building projects on foot, and that his brothers and sons occupied influential posts at the Court. From this it was natural to conclude that the ex-Emperor Goshirakawa was anxious to nip Kiyomori's growing influence. Goshirakawa himself, moreover, had lately hinted at a need for changing the system of selecting Guards, and the climate of the Cloister Palace itself had suddenly altered. Goshirakawa was attracting ambitious followers, daring men, eager to share his predilection for personal intrigue and politics.