by Kara Dalkey
Yoshitomo went up to the gray horse and ran his hand along its neck. “When a warrior goes into battle, nothing is so important as his horse. With steeds such as these, how could we not win against our enemies, no matter how strong they may be?”
“My thoughts exactly, good general.”
Yoshitomo turned back to Nobuyori. “You should summon my distant cousins Suezane, Yorimasa, and Mitsumoto. They also have interest in our clan’s survival, and I hear they, too, have been secretly planning for an event such as this. They may have wise strategies to offer.”
“I will do so, good general. And I will send to your household fifty new suits of armor which I have had made for just such an occasion.”
“My lord has great forethought.”
“I have learned, my good general, that nothing is achieved without it. Go home and prepare your men. I will soon let you know the hour and manner of our attack upon that schemer Shinzei.”
A White Rainbow
Five days later, in midmorning, Middle Counselor Shinzei stood in the garden of his mansion, admiring how the fresh-fallen snow lay upon the shaped pines and the bridge across the pond. A glint of light caught his eye, a reflection off the steaming water, and Shinzei looked up into the sky. There, behind a thin veil of clouds, he saw a white rainbow intersecting the sun. A chill filled his bones. It was an omen, but of what he could not be certain.
With so much uncertainty in the capital, and that idiot Nobuyori constantly scheming, Shinzei felt any omen should be paid attention to. After all, the vision he saw in a pool of standing water long ago had led to his avoiding death at the point of a sword. At least, so far. And with Kiyomori’s departure upon his pilgrimage … The chief of the Taira clan had confided in Shinzei the reasons for his winter trip to Kumano. “If nothing occurs while I am gone,” Kiyomori had said, “then it will reassure the people that peace remains with us, despite the changes in government. But it may cause Nobuyori to do something foolish, and thereby we can draw the poison from the wound before it spreads too far.”
Shinzei had advised it was too risky, but who can tell a Taira anything, particularly the stubborn Kiyomori? So now the Taira were without their commander, and a white rainbow hung across the sun like a pale ghost, a finger of warning.
Shinzei’s sons were attending an entertainment at the Retired Emperor’s Sanjō Palace, so Shinzei knew he would have no trouble gaining admittance to Go-Shirakawa’s presence. He could warn the In, and perhaps someone who had served in the Yin-Yang Office could give better counsel as to what the omen meant. Shinzei called for his oxcart to be brought to his mansion gate, and he went to the Sanjō Palace.
But when he arrived and stood in the courtyard of Sanjō Palace, Shinzei could hear the most heavenly music of koto and flute. Men were singing happy saibara, accompanied by the slap of the gosechi dancers’ fans. Shinzei looked up and saw that the rainbow had vanished. How dare I disturb such beauty and happiness with tales of a dire omen? One that is no longer even visible. It is possible I imagined it. We are given so few moments of peace and joy in this troubled world. Shinzei left a message with a servant and departed.
But as he sat once more in the ox-carriage, heard the crack of the ox-driver’s whip and the rumble of the wheels beneath him, Shinzei could not shake a sense of foreboding. As if the beautiful music he heard at Sanjō Palace was the last fragrance of cherry blossoms about to fall. Shinzei considered matters and realized he had no reason to remain in the capital at the moment. The plans for the New Year’s festivities had been settled many days ago. It would cause no harm if he were to leave for a little while, and if the omen was important, it might save his life. Nara was only thirty li away, only a long day and a half’s journey. The monks of the temples there all support me, and I could return quickly, if need be. Lord Kiyomori thought it safe enough to depart on a pilgrimage. Why shouldn’t I?
When he returned home, Shinzei went to his wife and told her about the white rainbow. “It may be nothing, but as a precaution, I think I will take a short pilgrimage to the temples at Nara.”
“That seems very wise,” she said. “But please, if you think there is danger, take me with you.”
Shinzei waggled his hand. “No, no, that should not be necessary. As I have said, it is probably nothing.”
“But if it is not nothing, then these are the last hours I will see you, and these are the last words we will share. How could I bear knowing this?”
Shinzei sighed and at last told her the real reason. “You know how suspicious Nobuyori is of everything I do. How he believes I plot against him.”
“But you do plot against him.”
“Yes, but only in small matters.”
“I doubt he believes your attempt to block his promotion was a small matter.”
“Nevertheless, it might call his attention too much to my departure if you come with me. He might think I am trying to get you to a place of safety because I am planning some military action. Therefore, I will go alone. Be at peace, wife,” he said, patting her arm. “It is very likely nothing, and soon we will be sipping the New Year’s wine together with all contentment.”
His wife had no choice but to relent. So the next morning, with only four retainers to accompany him, Shinzei departed for Nara. His last glimpse of his wife was of her standing on the mansion verandah, wiping away tears with her sleeve.
When evening fell, Shinzei stopped to spend the night at an estate called Daidoji. While chatting with his host, Shinzei happened to notice, through the open shōji, an odd configuration of stars. Jupiter and Venus were in conjunction. Shinzei was well taught in astrology and immediately knew the meaning of this new omen. “A loyal minister will sacrifice himself for his lord.” Shinzei gulped down his rice and sake quickly to hide his sudden trembling, for he feared the loyal minister might well be himself.
The Well at Sanjō Palace
That night, at midnight, the Hour of the Rat, General Minomoto Yoshitomo and five hundred mounted men rode toward Sanjō Palace. He had the strange feeling he had slipped back in time, for here it was again winter, the streets of Heian Kyō dusted with snow, and here he was again about to make a surprise night attack upon a palace. It had worked to quell the Hōgen Rebellion, the reasoning went, and therefore it should work again. At least this time, he did not have the treacherous Kiyomori to deal with.
However, he did have the foolish Lord Nobuyori riding with him. Despite Yoshitomo’s grave misgivings, Lord Nobuyori had insisted on accompanying the attack force himself. The corpulent Fujiwara apparently thought his few months of bugei training with Yoshitomo’s cousin had made him a warrior. Yoshitomo had had no choice but to relent and hope the Fujiwara lord would do nothing stupid.
When they reached Sanjō Palace, Yoshitomo chose to take no chances. He split his force of five hundred horsemen, one hundred to each of the five gates of the palace. He posted himself and Nobuyori with the hundred at the main gate of the palace. An Imperial ox-carriage had been brought along, and this was stationed just in front of the main gate as well.
The parts of the palace Yoshitomo could see were gaily lit with lanterns in anticipation of the coming New Year’s festivities. Yoshitomo allowed himself a brief moment of pity for those within, for their holiday season was about to be rudely shattered.
One of the palace guardsmen cautiously peered over the palace wall, and called out, “Who is it who disturbs the peace of the Retired Cloistered Emperor and the streets of the Imperial capital with such a show of arms?”
Nobuyori nudged his horse forward. “It is I, Fujiwara Nobuyori, Great Commander and Colonel of the Gate Guards of the Right. While your lord, the In, has favored me for many years, his chancellor Shinzei has slandered against me and plotted against me, and intends to do me harm. In order to prevent this, we have come.”
The guardsman vanished behind the wall for some moments, then reappeared. “We have heard no such thing. Your fears are groundless. Go home and leave us in peace.”
/> “I do not care what you have or have not heard,” Nobuyori shouted back. “I have five hundred men surrounding Sanjō, led by the famed general Minomoto Yoshitomo, who serves none but the true Emperor Nijō. We wish no harm to the person of the Retired Cloistered Emperor Go-Shirakawa himself. Bring him out so that we can ensure his safety.”
“Bring him out? Why? What do you intend?” shouted the guard, nervously.
“The destruction of Shinzei and all who serve him!”
“Middle Counselor Shinzei is not here!”
“You might well be lying to save him. No matter. Bring out the In before we begin our attack, or you will be responsible for the death of one of Imperial blood.”
There was the sound of hurried discussion behind the gate and shouting within the palace. Presently, former Emperor Go-Shirakawa, now thirty-two years old, and his sister, Jōsaimon’in, emerged from the front gate in dressing robes.
“What is the meaning of this!” Go-Shirakawa exclaimed. “No one has threatened you, Nobuyori-san. You have been given all you asked for, including your title of Great Commander.”
“I have not been given peace, Majesty. I spend sleepless nights wondering when your much-pampered minister Shinzei will succeed in some plot against me. Therefore, I strike first, in order to rid the capital of his menace before he can do any real harm.”
“Have you not been told? Shinzei is not here!”
“Your Majesty is, perhaps, mistaken. My informants tell me Shinzei has not been seen at his residence tonight. Where would he be but Sanjō, which has been like a second home to him? I intend to root him out like the weasel he is. For your safety, I urge you and your sister to get into the carriage.”
With an expression dark as storm clouds, the Retired Emperor said, “This is a great injustice and an offense to the gods. You will not succeed.”
“I serve the true Emperor who sits upon the Jeweled Throne. I believe this puts the gods firmly on my side.” Nobuyori turned his horse, and called out the order, “Set the fires!”
Go-Shirakawa turned and glared at Yoshitomo. He thinks me a traitor, because it was he whom I fought for in the Hōgen. He who then rewarded me with a post in the Imperial stables. But I serve the throne, not the man who once sat upon it. Yoshitomo kept his face impassive and gestured toward the ox-carriage.
As the first flaming arrows arced over the wall and onto the palace roof, Go-Shirakawa and his sister hastily bustled into the carriage. The carriage was shut and locked, and then immediately surrounded by Nobuyori, Yoshitomo, his Minomoto cousins, and fifty horsemen in order to prevent the possibility of rescue.
“Go!” Nobuyori ordered the ox-driver, and the carriage was drawn away from the palace. Yoshitomo could already feel heat against his back from the flames leaping on the palace rooftops. His ears were ringing with the screams of women and children, and he expected to see them fleeing from the palace gates at any moment.
But Nobuyori turned in his saddle and shouted out one final order. “Shoot them all, any who emerge from the buildings. Even women or children. They might be Shinzei in disguise or members of his family. No one must escape alive!”
Yoshitomo stared at Nobuyori aghast.
But Nobuyori merely smirked back at him. “A true warrior must be thorough, neh?”
As he followed the ox-carriage back to the Imperial Compound, Yoshitomo’s stomach sickened as he heard behind him the many flights of arrows and the screams that followed. It will bring peace, he told himself. It will return glory to my clan. But he could not help feeling it would be a dishonorable peace and dishonorable glory.
At the Imperial Compound the carriage was led away to one of the outbuildings where the Retired Emperor would be imprisoned. Yoritomo then took fifty men and went out on another heart-rending mission.
They rode through the dark streets to Anegakoji Mansion, Shinzei’s residence. The guards at the gate were wary, watching the glowing smoke rising from Sanjō. When Yoshimoto announced himself, the guards greeted him as a friend and ally.
“How good that you have come to protect us, Lord General!” said one guard. “Who is it who dares attack the Retired Emperor? Is it the Taira?”
Yoshitomo decided to be blunt. “We come seeking your master, Shinzei, who has been judged a traitor against the Emperor. Bring him forth and there will be no trouble.”
“But… but he is not here!”
“By your refusal to cooperate,” Yoshitomo said, “I must assume you are all traitors as well.” Turning to the horsemen behind him, Yoshitomo ordered, “Release your arrows.”
Again, an arc of flaming shafts flew overhead to lodge among roof-tiles and paper walls. The mansion caught fire swiftly and the screams of men, women, and children again pierced the air. Shinzei’s wife and sons and grandsons were paying the price for Shinzei’s petty scheming.
“Remember, none are to escape,” Yoshitomo ordered his men. Then he turned away from the slaughter and destruction, and galloped back to the Imperial Compound to help defend against any counterattack that forces loyal to Go-Shirakawa might muster. All night long, Yoshitomo waited with the Imperial Guard at Suzaku Gate, watching. But no attack came. Yoshitomo was disappointed, hoping for some strenuous swordplay to distract him from his disquiet. He could not understand how a man might do the right thing, and yet also be committing evil. Yet he was also certain this was what he had done.
By dawn’s light, the news came back to him of the horror that had been committed at Sanjō Palace. It was said the buildings were infernos to rival the flames of Hell. Almost all who had tried to escape the flames—courtiers, women, and children—were impaled with arrows or slashed with swords. The well of Sanjō had filled with the bodies of those trying to avoid both the flames and the weapons, who instead met with drowning, crushing, or suffocation. The heads of those few Taira who tried to defend Sanjō were taken and hung upon the Taiken Gate of the Imperial palace. The loss of life of Those Who Dwelled Above The Clouds was uncountable. Besides the In and his sister, only Go-Shirakawa’s consorts and their ladies-in-waiting had managed to escape.
Yoshitomo sighed and sagged in his saddle, feeling the weight of a long night pressing upon him. Success at great cost, the oracle had said. But the cost had been far greater than Yoshitomo had ever imagined it would be.
Promotions in the Hall
The following evening, Yoshitomo knelt in the Great Hall of the Palace of Administration. The black-robed, tall-hatted nobles around him chattered pleasantly, as if the horror committed the night before was no more than a slight winter storm, a troubling nuisance but a trifling matter. Yoshitomo was at once honored to be in so exalted a company, yet a part of him was mildly disgusted. He was not sure why, at first. But as he observed the expectant gleams in their eyes and heard their false laughter, he understood. These men were not celebrating a victory well fought and well earned. They were simply giddy with greed, like thieves after a particularly profitable raid.
Yoshitomo wondered why the young Emperor Nijō himself was not present. Perhaps he, too, is dismayed by these events, and wishes to distance himself from them. After all, his father is imprisoned in the Single-Copy Library. Surely that cannot be pleasing to him. It is most unfilial of him, really, even to permit it. But Yoshitomo knew well enough from his own experience that events sometimes demanded one do unfilial things.
Yoshitomo glanced around at the huge scarlet pillars supporting the intricately carved and gilded roof beams. There was the faint odor of fresh paint and glue. Only recently had Middle Counselor Shinzei had this hall repaired and restored to its former glory of three centuries before. In the center of the room, dressed only in scorched underrobes and bound hand and foot, knelt five young men, Shinzei’s sons, who had been captured running from the Anekagoji Mansion. Is it Nobuyori’s cruelty, wondered Yoshitomo, or simply the jest of the gods that here within Shinzei’s finest restoration, other creations of Shinzei’s will be stripped of their offices and, possibly, their heads.
&
nbsp; How true it is, thought Yoshitomo, that at any time a man’s luck may simply run out. Though I am promoted today, tomorrow my life might be in ruins.
Yoshitomo looked down the long room at Nobuyori. The Great Commander sat on a dais scarcely lower than the Emperor’s, squatting like a fat black toad. He seemed particularly giddy, which bothered Yoshitomo a great deal. He, of all people, should understand and reflect the seriousness of what we have done.
A scroll was delivered into Nobuyori’s hands, and with an expression of great delight, the Great Commander rapped upon the edge of his dais with his baton of office. “If I may have your attention, gentlemen!” he announced. “The time you have surely all been waiting for has arrived.”
The room quieted, though a low, expectant hubbub remained. Shinzei’s sons looked up toward the dais, but there was no hope in their eyes.
Nobuyori cleared his throat and unrolled the scroll. “It is hereby declared to be the will of the Emperor and the Senior Council of State that the offspring of the renegade counselor Fujiwara Michinori, now known as Shinzei, will be dismissed from their offices, and all posts, income, and property taken from them and denied to their families in perpetuity. An investigation into their activities has been begun by the Council of Ministers, and should evidence of treason against the throne be found—”
Which is almost certain, thought Yoshitomo.
“—they will receive that justice due to traitors and rebels.” Nobuyori looked up from the scroll. “I understand one son is still missing.”
“My lord,” said the Master of the Gate Guards of the Right, coming forward, “there is. He is a son-in-law of Taira Kiyomori and has gone to Rokuhara for sanctuary.”
“Then send an Imperial order to Rokuhara summoning him,” Nobuyori snapped. “If the Taira refuse, then we will know more about them, won’t we?”
