Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  Kiyomori felt his breath catch in his throat and water well up in his eyes. Never have I seen so impressive a sight. I may never see its like again.

  Taiken Gate

  General Yoshitomo sat astride his dragon horse in the courtyard beside the Seiryōden. With him were his sons and those men who still supported Nobuyori—only about eight hundred horsemen in all. The morning was bright and chill, and Yoshitomo had to squint from the reflections of sunlight off the snow. His gray horse stamped impatiently, and vapor steamed from its nostrils, giving it even more the appearance of a dragon.

  Lord Nobuyori, dressed and fully armored at last, sat on the threshold beam of the Shishinden tablet bay. He was twenty-seven, in the prime of his life, looking for once like the Great Commander of his title. He wore a red brocade robe over which he wore armor whose cords shaded from pale to deep purple. He wore a silver-star helmet, and at his side hung a sword in a golden scabbard. His fine black horse, formerly belonging to the Retired Emperor, stood beside a nearby mandarin orange tree.

  The morning felt brittle, thin ice on an early-spring lake, and Yoshitomo waited for the first crack.

  Then they heard it—softly at first, the clop of many, many hooves on the street pavement approaching the Compound, accompanied by the jingle and rattle of armor and harness. The tips of scarlet banners could be seen waving beyond the wall. Yoshihira felt it in his bones, the force assembling beyond the wall was massive, greater than he had ever faced in his life. For a moment, there was silence.

  Then a great war cry roared across the wall from the street beyond, a thundering waterfall of noise that rolled over the horsemen in the Imperial courtyard. Three times the sound came pouring over the wall, filling their ears, upsetting the horses. Yoshitomo’s steed shied and nearly reared up, but he managed to retain control.

  “We must answer them!” Yoshitomo shouted to his men, and they responded with three war cries of their own, but although the shouts were vigorous and heartfelt, they were nothing to match those of the Rokuhara forces.

  Lord Nobuyori seemed to be turning green with fear and had difficulty standing. He wobbled down the steps, and a servant led his horse up to him. Nobuyori put one foot in the stirrup, but could not get himself onto the saddle. The servant finally had to give Nobuyori a shove from behind, but this only pushed Nobuyori completely over the horse’s back and onto the ground on the other side.

  Yoshitomo’s men were too sickened to laugh. Nobuyori stood, dirt on his face and blood streaming from his nose. He glared at the warriors and then at his assistant, and then finally managed to hoist himself onto the horse.

  In disgust at Nobuyori’s cowardice and incompetence Yoshitomo turned and rode to southeastern Ikunō Gate, taking his sons Akugenda Yoshihira and Yoritomo with him, along with two hundred horsemen. Lord Nobuyori, still somewhat shaky in his saddle, rode to the eastern Taiken Gate followed by three hundred horsemen. Another force of three hundred horsemen went to defend the northeastern Yōmei Gate.

  At the calling of the Hour of the Serpent, the three east gates were flung open.

  Yoshitomo faced his opponents, a thousand strong, through the gateway, but neither side moved. He heard a shout from his left and looked to see Lord Nobuyori riding away from the Taiken Gate toward the center of the palace, pursued by a young horseman in orange-corded armor decked with butterflies.

  “Ai!” cried Akugenda Yoshihira to his father. “That is Shigemori, Kiyomori’s son. And Nobuyori does nothing to resist him! What good is a commander who runs from battle?”

  They watched in mortification as Shigemori, with a force of five hundred horsemen, chased Nobuyori as far as the sandalwood tree in the center of the courtyard.

  “Already the coward Nobuyori has lost Taiken Gate,” growled Yoshitomo. “Take a few men, Akugenda Yoshihira. Show what true warriors can do and drive the lordling from Rokuhara out.”

  “Gladly, Father.” Akugenda Yoshihira selected seventeen of his best horsemen and rode off to face the enemy.

  Yoshitomo turned to the young Yoritomo, who sat very calm on his small horse. “Watch, my son, and learn.”

  Yoritomo nodded, his face shadowed by his helmet.

  As Akugenda Yoshihira and his seventeen approached the Taira forces, he announced, “You see before you Akugenda Yoshihira, resident of Kamakura, son and heir of Harima Governor Yoshitomo of the Minomoto clan! I am eighteen years, fought in battle since fifteen, and have never been defeated. I believe the warrior I see before me, wearing orange-corded armor is none other than Major of the Gate Guards of the Left Shigemori, Kiyomori’s son and heir. There is your worthy target, men. Seize and kill him!”

  The seventeen riders charged as a single line abreast into the five hundred horsemen of the Taira, harrying them with such fury that Shigemori’s forces beat a hasty retreat through the Taiken Gate and out onto Ōmiya Avenue.

  “Hah!” cried Yoshitomo on seeing his son’s success. “That is how it should be done!” Seeing Nobuyori hiding behind the sandalwood tree, Yoshitomo shook his fist at him. Though he was too distant to be heard, Yoshitomo yelled at the craven lord, “You see, you coward? That is how it should be done!” To another horseman beside him, Yoshitomo said, “Ride to my son and tell him to press his advantage. He must keep up the attack.”

  The horseman rode off with the message. However, Akugenda Yoshihira pulled back from the Taiken Gate and began to regroup his seventeen riders in the courtyard.

  Suddenly fresh troops of the Taira, led again by Shigemori, poured in through the Taiken Gate.

  Akugenda Yoshihira cried, “They may be fresh troops, but it is the same general. Same orders, men, aim for no one but him.”

  Again the seventeen horsemen charged into the Taira forces, beating fiercely with their swords. Immediately Shigemori’s men had to surround their general to protect him from the attackers. Akugenda Yoshihira fitted an arrow to his bow and fired several bolts at Shigemori, but they bounced and broke off the Taira armor. “He is wearing the armor called Chinese Leather,” cursed Akugenda Yoshihira. “Clear a way, men. I will fire at his horse.”

  At this, the Taira warriors again retreated hastily through the Taiken Gate. This time Akugenda Yoshihira and his brave seventeen charged after them out onto the avenue.

  Yoshitomo grunted with satisfaction. “Well, that is a relief.” Noting that the enemy forces outside the gate he guarded seemed to be preparing an attack of their own, Yoshitomo turned to his two hundred men, and said, “Come, it is time we set our own example.” He raised his sword and, with a shout, charged through Ikunō Gate. His force of two hundred plowed into a mass of about one thousand, in the midst of thick clouds of dust. Yoshitomo could spare little attention for his young son, but he did note that the boy was keeping his head down to protect his face and neck from arrows and that the sode of the armor Eight Dragons swirled furiously about him, protecting him as though it were a thing alive.

  The Taira forces must have been surprised by the ferocity of the Minomoto attack, for they pulled back quickly, split into three groups, and galloped away down the avenue back to Rokuhara.

  “Hah!” cried Yoshitomo, shaking his sword in triumph. “These men have lost their stomach for real fighting.”

  “Father,” said Yoritomo, tugging at his sleeve and pointing back toward the Taiken Gate. Three hundred warriors were coming out, their horses at a walk, taking down their white banners. These riders followed after the retreating forces toward Rokuhara.

  “Traitors!” growled Yoshitomo. He did a quick mental calculation and realized the defending forces were now down to a mere five hundred or so, his two hundred and Nobuyori’s three hundred. “We must attempt an attack on Rokuhara while we can, before we lose any more men. Send word to that idiot Nobuyori that we must make our move now, gods curse that bungling demon of a man.”

  Rokuhara

  Lord Kiyomori, dressed in full armor but for his helmet, sat in the Northern Office of Rokuhara, surrounded by his most trusted warrio
r-advisors. Before them was a hastily drawn plan of the compound, with pieces of red and white paper placed on it. The markers were used to show the likely places the Minomoto would attempt an attack and where the best defense might be set.

  He had already directed that nearby Gojō Bridge be torn up and made into two shield walls on the east side of the river. Messengers reported that the tactic was successful at holding the Minomoto forces off for the time being.

  The paneled door flew open and Shigemori rushed in, helmetless, his orange-corded armor spattered with blood. “Father,” he said breathlessly, “I have returned.”

  “Are you wounded, my son?” asked Kiyomori.

  Shigemori shook his head. “This blood is not mine. My horse was shot out from under me and I fell onto a pile of cut wood that was floating in the Horikawa River. Akugenda Yoshihira himself would have taken me there, but for my retainers Yosozaemon and Kondo, who put me on a horse and took the blows meant for me. They are dead, and Yoshihira has their heads.”

  Kiyomori put his hand on Shigemori’s shoulder. “They did their duty admirably, then. It is the greatest honor to die in place of one’s lord. Do not feel sorrow for them; instead be proud. Now tell me, how is our plan working?”

  Shigemori took a deep breath. “So far as I could see, it is working well. We have drawn all of the rebel forces out of the Imperial Compound, and they are headed this way.”

  “Good. Go and assemble a new force, then, that they may be brought deeper into our trap.”

  General Minomoto Yoshitomo led his forces at a brisk walk down the avenue toward Rokuhara. The craven Nobuyori rode beside him, huddled fearfully in his saddle. How different he is now from just a few weeks ago, when he burned Sanjō Palace, thought Yoshitomo. Then he was puffed up with arrogance. Now he is a sodden rag with the shape of a man. Again Yoshitomo prayed that Nobuyori would do nothing shameful.

  Along the way, Yoshitomo noted that every street corner in the southeast quarter of the city had a guard posted, and barriers were being put up. Looking up the street, he saw more troops of warriors, as well as noblemen’s carriages, hurrying to Rokuhara to obey the Imperial summons. When Yoshitomo and his horsemen reached the place where Gojō Bridge had been, instead they found two fence shields, one on each side of the river. Behind each fence was a line of archers, bows and arrows at the ready.

  “This … this … this is impossible!” Lord Nobuyori exclaimed. Suddenly he whipped his horse with his reins, bolted from the Minomoto forces, and galloped away west down Yamamomo Street, fleeing for his life.

  Yoshitomo stared after him, aghast and sick to his stomach.

  “Father,” said young Yoritomo, “shouldn’t we chase him?”

  Yoshitomo spit on the pavement where Nobuyori had ridden. “Let him go. If he were with us, he would only get in the way. We are better off without such leaders.”

  “Father, here comes Akugenda Yoshihira.”

  Yoshitomo’s eldest son came riding up to them. “Curse it, I had Taira Shigemori nearly in my hands, but he escaped.”

  “You will have another chance, my son. Who comes here?”

  A force of three hundred men came riding up within a few yards of them and stopped there. Yoshitomo recognized them as the force that had deserted the Imperial Compound, led by his cousin Minomoto Yorimasa. Yoshitomo hissed softly.

  “That traitor,” said Akugenda Yoshihira. “He seems to be trying to decide which force is the stronger and therefore the one he should join. I will show him that is not how a Minomoto behaves.” Akugenda Yoshihira drew his sword, took his seventeen horsemen, and charged Yorimasa’s forces. So fierce was their charge that Yorimasa and his men took flight down a side street, Akugenda Yoshihira in pursuit.

  General Yoshitomo, while proud of his son’s spirit, was concerned that Akugenda Yoshihira was wasting his energy on one who was not the main enemy. To Yoritomo, he said, “We had better go after your brother and remind him of what we are here to do.”

  Yorimasa’s forces had galloped across the Kamo River, apparently making the choice to join with the Rokuhara warriors. Yoshitomo and his two hundred horsemen caught up to his son and joined in the pursuit, smashing the two fence shields and charging across the river up to the wall of Rokuhara compound. Yoshitomo and his men fought like demons, firing arrows over the wall onto the roofs of Rokuhara like the dragons of storm clouds delivering unrelenting rain.

  Lord Kiyomori heard the clatter of arrows striking the paneled doors behind him, and he whipped around. “What is this? Have our warriors become so lax that the enemy can get this near? Things are either disorganized or dire. I’d better go lead the forces myself.” He put on his helmet and his sword, slung a quiver of eighteen arrows onto his back, and strode out to the verandah, calling for his horse.

  His mount, a large, well-muscled black stallion with a black saddle, was brought to him, and he mounted from the verandah. Thirty of his foot soldiers carrying naginata surrounded him and thirty horsemen, including two of his sons, Shigemori and Munemori, rode by his side to protect Lord Kiyomori from becoming the target of enemy arrows.

  As they rode out, they encountered Minomoto Yorimasa and his warriors. “Ah, fresh troops!” cried Shigemori. “Drive Yoshitomo and his men away from the walls. We will circle around from another way and surprise him.”

  Yorimasa nodded his assent and led his men ahead of the Taira horsemen, charging into General Yoshitomo’s warriors, forcing them back across the river to the western bank.

  From that side of the river, Yoshitomo cried, “It shames me to have to ask, Yorimasa, why you have chosen to serve the Ise Taira. You disgrace the martial fame of our house by your betrayal.”

  “How is it betrayal,” Yorimasa answered back, “to answer the call of the Emperor of Ten Virtues, particularly when it may save our house and our martial fame? The fact that you chose to serve the most spineless villain our land has ever seen has brought the greater shame to our clan.”

  General Yoshitomo did not reply, for he felt in his heart the truth of Yorimasa’s words. Instead he turned to his men and his sons, and said, “There shall be no more retreat from here. This is where we prove our skill and our courage. If they attack again, fight with all your will and take as many of them as you can.”

  “Father,” said Akugenda Yoshihira, pointing westward. A force of five hundred horsemen, led by Shigemori, was coming down toward them from the right. Another force could be seen slipping past them beyond the houses to the left. “We are being surrounded. They plan to catch us in a trap.”

  The Taira hooted at them from the opposite bank and the walls of Rokuhara. “Now you see our lovely plan? Now you see why we pulled back from the palace? Come and attack us now, if you dare!”

  “So ka,” Yoshitomo said, a coldness filling his heart, “here is where we die. Let us fight bravely and well to the last, then, and shame those who would dishonor us.”

  One of his retainers, Kamata, leapt off his horse and grabbed on to the bit and reins of Yoshitomo’s mount. “My lord, hear me, I beg you. The warrior skills of your clan are legendary to all, even to the great kami. This is not the place to die and lose all, trampled beneath the hooves of the Taira. Do not lose sight of what chance there may yet be for victory. If you flee now, and return to the Eastern Provinces, there will be many more men to serve you. Then you may return and achieve the victory that now eludes you. There will be no future praises for a general who has thrown away his life. But much would be said of a man who outwitted his enemies and overcame them.”

  “You suggest I should flee, like that coward Nobuyori?” asked Yoshitomo, astounded. “Should I let tale-singers link my name in infamy with his? Never. Let go of my horse.” Yoshitomo put his heels to the steed’s flanks and tried to charge across the river.

  But Kamata held fast. Other retainers joined him, grabbing Yoshitomo’s saddle and bridle. “No, my lord!” they cried. “We cannot let you. It would be disloyal. Go!” They pushed and shoved and slapped his hor
se until it took off, surrounded by his sons, to the west. Taira warriors chased them, sending flights of arrows against their backs, until Yoshitomo and his men scattered like geese before a storm, heedless in their escape.

  Snow on a Stone

  Snow drifted down gently as the evening darkened outside the temple of Ninna-ji, high in the hills north of Heian Kyō. Good news drifted in gently, too, as messengers arrived every hour from the capital. Thus Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa learned that his sister Jōsaimon’in had made it safely to the monastery of Kuramadera. Thus he learned that the Minomoto rebels were fleeing and that the Taira were victorious.

  Go-Shirakawa sat with the abbot, his brother Kakushō, and they sipped at cups of warmed sake as they watched the snow.

  “This is so much more pleasant,” said Kakushō, “than the last time Ninna-Ji hosted a former Emperor during a rebellion. The last time, it was our brother who is now called the Shin-In, and it was he who was the rebel. I could not turn him away, but I could not, in good conscience, show him much courtesy either. I suspect his brief stay with us was not a happy one.”

  “I do not think he is happy anywhere,” said Go-Shirakawa. “Certainly not in exile on Sanuki.”

  “Some of the monks here,” Kakushō said, “have claimed they have seen his spirit scowling in at them through the shōji.”

  “But our brother is not yet dead,” said Go-Shirakawa. “How is it possible that his ghost wanders?”

  “It is said,” replied Kakushō, “that the truly evil can send their spirits anywhere they choose, no matter where their physical body may reside. And I have heard that the Shin-In has transformed himself into a most fearsome demon, by dedicating sacred sutras to the forces of Hell. I have occasionally worried as to what such a demon, of Imperial blood, descended from Amaterasu herself, might be capable of.”