Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  Kiyomori smiled to himself, knowing this plea for mercy would not sit well with the Emperor.

  Shinzei blinked at Yoshitomo. Then he said, “One moment, good general, if you please,” and he hurried quickly back through the shōji to confer with the Emperor.

  Yoshitomo remained in his prostrate position, and Kiyomori remained upright, but Kiyomori thought he heard the Minomoto general growl, “You bastard …”

  Shinzei hurried out again to them, and said, “His Majesty replies that while it is indeed regrettable when a son must kill a father, this is not a situation in which it must be thought one of the Five Abominable Crimes. Your father has gone against Imperial authority and therefore must answer for it. Here, Lord Kiyomori has offered to execute his own uncle, Tadamasa, who has committed the same treason …”

  An uncle who hated me, thought Kiyomori, with vengeful satisfaction.

  “… therefore how can you deny the same punishment for your father?”

  It seemed Yoshitomo needed to collect himself before he replied. “There is, of course, much in what you say, Lord Shinzei,” admitted Yoshitomo. “But there is a difference in the relation between a nephew and uncle, and that between a son and father. My father, I am told, has gone into hiding among the monks of Enryakuji on Mount Hiei. I expect, in time, he will be found or will give himself up. Let the time between now and then be put to thoughts of mercy, so that when he appears to answer to the court for his treason, there will be some kinder, more peaceful feelings held by all.”

  You are only piling mud higher on yourself, Kiyomori thought smugly. Trying to imply the threat that the warrior-monks of Mount Hiei will defend your father will not endear you to the court.

  “I see,” said Shinzei, perhaps a trace more coldly. “Would you be willing to go find your father at Mount Hiei and arrest him yourself?”

  Lord Yoshitomo paused.

  “Most Noble Shinzei and Honored Majesty,” Kiyomori jumped in, “it is understandable that General Yoshitomo is disheartened by the thought of arresting and decapitating his own father. Therefore, let me and my men spare him these heartbreaking tasks. We will seek out where his father may have hidden and bring Minomoto Tameyoshi back to the capital to face justice. This is surely better than forcing a son to do such unfilial duty.”

  Again Lesser Counselor Shinzei excused himself to confer in the Imperial Presence a moment. This time Yoshitomo maintained an icy silence while he was gone.

  Shinzei returned, and replied, “His Majesty says this offer is most generous of you, Lord Kiyomori, and therefore let it be done. But you need not depart immediately. You both are invited to stay and celebrate with us. Reward for the excellent service you have both given will be announced tonight. Therefore, stay and feast with us and let us rejoice in your victory.”

  So the generals stayed at the palace through the evening and into the starry night. They drank plum wine and sake, and feasted on pheasant, baked and pickled fish, sea-ear and scallops, rice with shredded daikon and nori, sweet red bean cakes and ginger ices. They were entertained by musicians playing koto and flute, and shirabyoshi dancers danced and sang for them. Many poems were composed that night to their valor, though they seemed more inspired by the rice wine than by art and skill.

  The moon rose over the Imperial Gardens, reflecting off the artificial lake and the snow that mounded its banks. Drunken nobles and monks got up the courage to dance and sing, some more gracefully than others, beside the bronze brazier fires. Ladies laughed and flirted from behind their curtains of modesty. A feeling of peace and camaraderie amid people and furnishings of the finest quality pervaded the scene. Lord Kiyomori basked in it all in pleasant anticipation. Someday, he told himself, someday I will be as often a visitor here as Shinzei or any Fujiwara. The Dragon King has promised it. Someday I will be promoted to First Rank and sit among the highest. Someday I will be allowed into the Imperial Presence, for surely a grandfather may speak to his grandson, neh? This splendid evening is but a foretaste of glory to come.

  Kiyomori wondered idly where the Sacred Regalia might be kept at the moment. He had heard that the Emperor had taken them to the East Sanjō Palace. If the sword Kusanagi has not yet been returned to its traditional, well-guarded place, there might be an opportunity … but Kiyomori quickly dismissed the thought. It would not do for him to be caught skulking around the palace. There would be time enough and better opportunity to get his hands on the sword in the future. Besides, would it not be better to see that the Dragon King keeps his part of the bargain first? I will worry about returning Kusanagi later.

  Kiyomori saw his son Shigemori among the crowd of nobility, shyly exchanging poems with a pretty shirabyoshi dancer. Now do you understand, my son, why I chose not to hurl myself into senseless death this morning? There is so much more to live for.

  Kiyomori then glanced over to where General Yoshitomo was sitting, somewhat apart from the others. Yoshitomo seemed to be distracted, his mind far from the gaiety, his laughter forced and hollow.

  Good, thought Kiyomori, satisfied. When this matter is done, he will slink home to the Kantō provinces and raise horses and speak sadly of his warrior days, never to bother with events in Heian Kyō again. With most of Yoshitomo’s clan branded as traitors and little prospect of advancement for himself, the Taira need have no further fear of the once-great Minomoto.

  At midnight, the ministers came forth from the Imperial Presence to announce the promotions and rewards for the victorious warriors. Lord Kiyomori tried to hold his patience as the ministers unrolled their scrolls and droned on in praise of His Imperial Majesty’s wisdom and gratitude. Finally, his name was announced.

  “Lord Aki, Taira no Kiyomori, for his courage and martial skill in the service of the Emperor, shall be given, in addition to his current governorship of the province of Aki, governorship of the province of Harima, and all taxes it produces, as well.”

  Kiyomori sighed and bowed in acknowledgment. “I am thankful for this gift and pleased that I have the honor to be able to be of service to the Imperial house.” It was not as much as he had hoped for. But it was a step, a small one, toward greater achievements. He allowed himself to be content with it. He listened acutely for what the Minomoto general would be given.

  “Lord Shimotsuke, Minomoto no Yoshitomo, for his valiant efforts and great meritorious service to the Emperor, is awarded Acting Chief of the Left Horse Bureau.”

  Kiyomori covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Acting Chief of the Left Horse Bureau meant essentially Master of the Imperial Stables. For a man who was also governor of a province, this was not much of an advancement. Some could even interpret it as a slight insult. True, it was a position within the Imperial palace itself, but it made one a master of horses, not men. Kiyomori noticed that one of the senior nobles on the Council was Middle Counselor Fujiwara Ienari, whose house had been burned in the taking of Shirakawa Palace. I wonder if he had any influence in what reward the Minomoto general would or would not be given, thought Kiyomori.

  Yoshitomo got to his feet, unsteady and swaying from too much sake, and spoke as if stunned by surprise. “My lords, since this office has been held by an honored ancestor of mine, I am unashamed to accept it. However, it is … it would seem a small reward for such ‘great meritorious service’ as you have acknowledged that I have given to the Emperor. It is customary, I understand, to bestow at least half a province upon those who destroy enemies of the Jeweled Throne. And, as you may know, I alone of my clan chose to serve at the side of my Emperor, going against my own father and brothers, normally an unthinkable act, to obey the Imperial command. Yet … I am not even given the right of entry into the Emperor’s presence, which was promised to me before battle began. This, when my service doubtless should qualify me for rewards greater than any other warrior has received this night!” Yoshitomo threw his arms out wide and looked around at the nobles seated near him for confirmation.

  An embarrassed silence followed. And then a low, murmuring hubbu
b. Kiyomori leaned forward to try to catch what was being said. To his dismay, it seemed many of the black-robed First Rank nobles were agreeing with Yoshitomo’s complaint. The senior ministers, who had read out the promotions, conferred with one another, and then announced they would withdraw to reconsider the matter.

  As they hurried off to a chamber within the Great Hall of State, the speculation grew louder among the lords and ladies assembled as to what Yoshitomo’s fate might be. Kiyomori rubbed his chin, unsettled. The Emperor might be offended by Yoshitomo’s request for more, which could be useful to Kiyomori. But if the Emperor was swayed by Yoshitomo’s argument—and Emperors were known to be occasionally capricious—Yoshitomo might earn a greater promotion than Kiyomori had. And that would be hard to bear. Kiyomori wondered if Yoshitomo was less drunk and more clever than he seemed.

  At last, the senior ministers returned, and the nobles grew quiet in expectation of their new announcement. The Minister of the Right stepped forward wearing a pleased smile. “The Senior Council has discussed the matter of Lord Shimotsuke’s claim and, with the permission of his Imperial Majesty, we have voted to change the appointment given to Minomoto Yoshitomo.”

  By all the bosatsu in Paradise, Kiyomori grumbled to himself. Yoshitomo has won.

  “Lord Shimotsuke will no longer be awarded the post of Acting Chief of the Left Horse Bureau. His appointment has now been upgraded to … Chief of the Left Horse Bureau.”

  Kiyomori felt his jaw drop open. Polite, scattered applause spread among the stunned nobles. Such a small, token acknowledgment of Yoshitomo’s request could not, again, quite be called insult, but it was clear the Minomoto general was not being taken seriously. Kiyomori looked at Yoshitomo and for a moment saw raw anger flash in the general’s face. Then Yoshitomo bowed in acceptance and sat, clearly not daring to press his case further.

  Kiyomori closed his eyes and sighed, silently thanking the Dragon King, all the bosatsu, his clan kami, the spirits of his ancestors, and whatever gods would listen. All is unfolding as it should.

  Dragon Horses

  Yoshitomo leaned against the doorway of the Stables of the Left, waiting for his groomsmen. The scent of cherry blossoms wafting from the Imperial Gardens brought him no pleasure. Their perfume seemed sickly-sweet to him, as though tainted with the smell of blood. From where he stood, he could look past the Bureau of Medicine and the Imperial Wine Office, and see workmen repairing the ornate, tiled roof of the Hall of Abundant Pleasures.

  It had become the pet project of Lesser Counselor Shinzei to repair and rebuild those palace structures that had fallen into neglect in recent years. Shinzei was also encouraging the reintroduction of old pastimes to the nobility, such as poetry contests, great banquets, and sumo wrestling festivals. Praise for Shinzei was on every nobleman’s lips, it seemed, as they claimed he was bringing back the gentility of ages past to Heian Kyō.

  Yoshitomo was not impressed. In past times, clans such as the Minomoto were thought no more than country ruffians, and given no importance in government affairs. Should such times return, he thought, there will be no hope for advancement for me or what is left of my family.

  He had already languished in the Imperial Stables of the Left for two years. Granted that Heian Kyō had been at peace; merchants no longer needed to bar their doors; and the sight of a horseman armed and armored on the streets had become rare. Granted that Yoshitomo knew much about horses, and therefore had made worthy contributions to the running of the Imperial stables. Since when does it matter that a man has appropriate skills? Yoshitomo thought glumly. All that has ever mattered is having the right breeding and the favor of high-ranked nobles. And in these times, I have neither.

  Meanwhile, Yoshitomo had heard that Lord Kiyomori now lived at Rokuhara like a prince, entertaining the nobles and ladies of the highest ranks, receiving promotion after promotion. Kiyomori’s eight-year-old daughter was betrothed to a Middle Counselor Fujiwara. It had been the talk of all Heian Kyō.

  As he did almost every day since the end of the Hōgen Disturbance, Yoshitomo wondered what he had done to possibly offend the Emperor or the gods. How could he seem so unworthy of reward? Was it perhaps because, when his father had slipped back into the city, Yoshitomo had continued to plead for his old father’s life, while Kiyomori had eagerly cut off his own uncle’s and cousins’ heads? Yoshitomo, pressed by Imperial order, had at last ordered a retainer to execute his father and brothers, being unable to bring himself to do the deed. Did this make me seem cowardly or disobedient in the Emperor’s eyes?

  Yoshitomo also suspected that the friendship between Shinzei and Kiyomori was no help to his own fortunes. So long as Shinzei is in power, I will likely never see advancement again.

  His thoughts were distracted by the arrival of two grooms through the gate called Sohekimon, behind him. They were leading the two horses he was to inspect that morning. The grooms were having trouble controlling their charges, one a pale gray steed, the other a coppery bay, who strained at the ropes, rearing and trying to kick and bite. Yoshitomo smiled.

  These horses were gifts sent to the Emperor from the eastern province of Sagami, a place Yoshitomo knew well. As they were Kantō horses, Yoshitomo had expected them to be fine, spirited beasts, and he was not proved wrong. Both steeds were large and well muscled. They tossed their heads and stamped their hooves as Yoshitomo approached. Their whinny was like the roar of wind in a cave. One could imagine that, if released, the horses would charge like whirlwinds, hooves striking like lightning, laying waste to all around them, possibly even each other. Yoshitomo sighed and nodded in approval.

  He approached with respect and cautiously ran his hand down the muscled neck of the pale gray. The horse flared its nostrils and rolled its eyes, but it permitted the caress.

  “What do you think, Yoshitomo-sama?” asked the groomsman. “Are these an appropriate gift for His Majesty?”

  “Oh, yes. Indeed,” Yoshitomo said. “In the East, boy, steeds such as these are called dragon horses. The best of the Kantō. His Majesty should be very pleased. I envy the warriors who will be permitted to ride them. Hachiman himself would be honored with such a mount.”

  The horse suddenly shied away from him with a high, piercing whinny, stamping its feet.

  Yoshitomo spun around and saw behind him a pudgy, pale-faced man with slightly bulging eyes. The newcomer wore a tall hat and black-silk robes, and carried the many-fold fan of a very high-ranking noble.

  “Y-yes!” said the startled nobleman. “Quite amazing. A very spirited beast.”

  Because it would be unwise in the extreme to offend one of such high rank, Yoshitomo held his anger in check and bowed. “Forgive me, my lord, but you should not have come so close. These horses are bred to be fierce. You might have gotten injured.”

  The nobleman grinned and waved his fan gracelessly. “Of course, certainly you are correct. Silly me, I always seem to be stepping into awkward situations. It is surely a gift of the gods that I ever survive them all. But… can it be? Could it truly be the great hero of the Hōgen standing right before me? Could this be the mighty general Minomoto no Yoshitomo himself?”

  Yoshitomo, unused to high-court ways, was uncertain whether he was being mocked. “I am he, my lord.”

  The nobleman gasped in delight and bowed lower than he needed to. “Ah, what an honor this is, then! I have admired every tale of your exploits during the Recent Unpleasantness. The storming of Shirakawa Palace! Ah, what a triumph! What courage! And to fight against your own rebellious father and brothers—what loyalty!”

  “You … honor me too much, my lord. I only did a warrior’s duty.”

  “And what a sad, sad day when your father and brothers had to be executed. So many brave men dying. And the children, the blameless boys whose only crime was being born into the wrong family. I was told over seventy were executed that day.”

  “Yes,” was all Yoshitomo could say.

  “All your brothers and half brothers were then
hunted down and executed, even the little ones, weren’t they?”

  Yoshitomo balled his fists. “Yes.”

  “I heard they died bravely, too.” The nobleman sniffed and wiped an invisible tear from his eye with his sleeve. “None escaped, did they?”

  “None.” Yoshitomo managed to say. “Except… Tametomo.”

  “The one that has been called a demon?”

  “Yes.” Yoshitomo decided he did not like this man, who was clearly one of those nobles who felt that pity over the sorrows of others was an entertainment to be savored and wallowed in.

  “What a time. I heard the rebels’ heads were not even put properly on display on the tree by the prison, but they were thrown into a pond behind the Grain Storehouses to rot.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know, there has been no death penalty for three centuries, not since the reign of Emperor Saga. Then to have seventy in one day! No one dared speak of it two years ago, but now everyone is beginning to say this cannot bode well. Bad fortune must come of it, everyone says so.”

  Yoshitomo grunted.

  “Oh, but here I am babbling at you of sorrows, when here you stand the saddest of all. You, the great general who saved the Emperor, are now a lowly judger of horseflesh in the stables. What an unfair fortune: how the gods must despair!”

  Yoshitomo shifted from foot to foot, uncertain how he dared respond. Wrestling the nobleman to the ground and strangling him seemed an inappropriate choice, though it was tempting.

  The nobleman tiptoed closer, so close that Yoshitomo was nearly overwhelmed by the man’s perfume—a scent not unlike rotting plums mixed with cat-spray musk. “You know,” the nobleman said in a conspiratorial hush, “there have been those of us who have noted your unfair treatment. Who say that you paid the higher price for your service to the Jeweled Throne and therefore are deserving of more honors. What did that upstart Kiyomori ever do that his band of brigand-bashers have not done before? Yet you, alone of your clan, stood for the rightful ruler. Such unswerving loyalty must surely be worth rewarding, neh?”