Genpei

by Kara Dalkey

  The army of warriors started forward again and proceeded toward the gate. Munemori urged his horse on to keep ahead of them. “Father, who has threatened us?”

  “Who has not threatened us? Surely here in the capital you have heard it. The earthquake is our fault, it presages our doom. Likewise the whirlwind and the fire. All the gods, they say, are speaking against us. It is time, is it not, to show that we Taira do not care what the gods say. We will not let even the gods gossip against us. If it is turmoil the gods foresee, then it is turmoil they will have. And we, the Taira, shall be the victors.”

  Munemori swallowed hard. Shigemori had often hinted that he believed their father was mad. Munemori had not been certain, but had not particularly cared one way or the other. Now he realized his carelessness might have been foolish.

  His two lieutenants turned their horses and rode ahead of them through the gate. The hoofbeats of the mighty force echoed with surprising softness off the wood beams of the Rashō Mon, sounding more like the burbling of a brook, the way a great flood can sound if one stands only at its edge.

  Munemori’s forces, scarcely a couple of hundred mounted warriors, awaited a couple of blocks ahead down Suzaku Avenue. The shopkeepers and common folk who had been eyeing them with curiosity now suddenly caught sight of the approaching army. Their eyes went wide, and they scattered back to their shops and homes, closing shutters and doors as soon as they could.

  Kiyomori halted his warriors again as they came up to Munemori’s forces. “Munemori, you will take your men and half of mine to Rokuhara, where you will set up a base of defenses. I will take the rest with me to Nishihachijō, where I will locate our headquarters. Once you have established your preparations, you will come to me again, for I have a particular task for you to perform.”

  “What task might that be, Father?”

  But Kiyomori shook his head. “Let us say only that it is time to settle some affairs with certain persons.” Kiyomori then turned in his saddle and began to shout orders to divide the forces.

  Munemori realized in that moment that he had become more afraid of his father than he was of the ghost of the Shin-In.

  The Insult

  This is outrageous,” Go-Shirakawa said softly.

  “Yet it was so, Majesty” said the Dharma Seal Jōken, shivering in his gray monk’s robes, trying to warm his hands over a brazier. “Lord Kiyomori left me sitting in the snowy courtyard all day. He only deigned to speak to me just as I had risen to leave at sunset.”

  Go-Shirakawa motioned for a servant to bring more robes to drape over the shoulders and head of the esteemed Jōken, who was a son of Shinzei and deemed a wise and fair man by all. To have been treated so by the Lord of the Taira was a slap in the face not only to Go-Shirakawa but to civilized behavior in general.

  “Did Lord Kiyomori tell you anything as to why he arrived yesterday with so many forces at his command?”

  Jōken managed to nod. “At first, he said he thought the grievances he has against you were so obvious not to require mentioning. But since I remained to have audience with him, Lord Kiyomori deigned to correct our ignorance.

  “His first complaint was that you held no official observance of sorrow for the death of his son, Shigemori.”

  Go-Shirakawa sat back with a frown. “Had I done so, Kiyomori would surely have complained that I was abrogating the right of his clan to arrange mourning as they chose. This is hardly a worthy complaint at all.”

  “He further went on to say,” Jōken continued, “that you observed all the usual festivals and even held entertainments not long after Shigemori’s funeral, with no thought of respect for Kiyomori’s grief or the loss of such a fine and able counselor as Shigemori.”

  “Shigemori was a man who appreciated the fine things of life. He told me himself before he died that he did not wish the capital to become solemn after his death, claiming that would only hasten the dark times to come. This only proves that Kiyomori no longer knew his eldest son very well. Or it is mere pretext.”

  “Anyway,” said Jōken, “that was the first thing. Next, Kiyomori said that the governorship of Echigo Province was supposed to be passed from father to son and kept with Shigemori’s family. Yet, as soon as he died, that post was taken back to be given to another, not of his family.”

  “Shigemori’s eldest is not yet old enough for such a post, and Echigo is an important province. I do not even remember ever making such an agreement. Go on.”

  “The third thing was that you, Majesty, ignored a recommendation Kiyomori made on behalf of Middle Captain Motomichi for a counselor post. He thought this a petty insult.”

  “Motomichi is Kiyomori’s son-in-law, a toady to the Taira, and not worthy of the post. Surely he knows this and is using it for pretext.”

  “And of course,” Jōken said finally, “he brought up the matter of Shishinotani again.”

  Go-Shirakawa leaned forward. “Did he know you were involved in that?”

  Jōken sipped at a cup of green tea. “I am not sure, Majesty. But I did my best to absolve you of any involvement and reminded Kiyomori of the many blessings you have showered upon his house. He did not seem moved.”

  “Naturally, he would not be.” Go-Shirakawa rubbed his chin and sighed deeply. “How I wish these were the old days. When one clan of warriors became too strong there was always another to call upon, to keep matters in balance. No longer.”

  “Majesty,” said Dharma Seal Jōken, “the Minomoto are not yet vanished from this Earth, much as the Taira would have it so. I have heard of two of the great Yoshitomo’s sons who are gaining influence in the eastern provinces. One, a younger son, has been building quite a reputation as a swordsman and leader.”

  “But the eldest and Ason,” argued Go-Shirakawa, “Yoritomo, sits meekly in a monastery and refuses all calls to lead.”

  “Yoritomo has grown into an honorable man, Majesty, who obeys the Imperial law, and thus obeys the terms of his exile. But if he were to understand that it is the Imperial family in danger, if he were handed an Imperial edict ordering him to act, I have no doubt Yoritomo would prove himself equally honorable in taking up arms against that threat. The Taira still have little influence in the eastern provinces, and it would not be difficult to amass a Minomoto force there.”

  Go-Shirakawa studied the weave pattern of the tatami mat beneath him. “Were I to send such a request myself, it would bring an immediate attack by the Taira upon my house. I do not wish another Sanjō.”

  “I understand, Majesty.”

  “Nonetheless, Kiyomori’s threat cannot go unanswered. Or he will become a greater tyrant than Nobuyori ever was. I will think on all you have said, Jōken. I will think on it.”

  “May the Amida inspire you, Majesty, for the sake of us all.”

  Distressing News

  Kenreimon’in felt the blood draining from her face. “Father has done what?” It was only the second day after Lord Kiyomori had returned to Heian Kyō, and already Kenreimon’in could see the world overturning.

  Her mother, Nii no Ama, sighed and shook her head. “His Taira warriors have taken control of the city. No one dares make a move lest it bring instant destruction down upon them. Kiyomori has demanded that the Regent be dismissed, as well as the Chancellor. He demands that your brother-in-law, Motomichi, become Regent and Minister of State as well. The Senior Council of Nobles is quivering with fear over what Kiyomori’s men might do if he is disobeyed, so I am certain they will comply. There is no one, no clan, they can call upon to oppose him. Many nobles who expect to be dismissed are fleeing to the outer provinces. Some, I fear, will not choose to remain in this world rather than face whatever wrath your father will bring down on them.” Nii no Ama paused to clear her throat and made a noise that might have been a laugh. “I confess, I did not think the old goat still had it in him to be so bold. Were he not bringing about the destruction of the world, I might admire him.”

  Kenreimon stared down at her hands in shock. “I hea
rd the weeping from the ladies-in-waiting, but they would not tell me why they were leaving the palace. It has been so empty here these last hours. Why? Why is my father doing this?”

  “The charitable side of me,” said Nii no Ama, “would claim that Lord Kiyomori values the fortunes of his clan above all other things. He would do anything, even destroy the world we know, in order to prevent any loss in Taira power.”

  “And the uncharitable side?”

  “Would say it is mere pride that drives him on. He has always been a proud one, your father, back when he was a strutting youth in his high clogs and high-handed ways. He has not changed. Only become more of what he is.”

  “Can not your father, the Dragon King, do anything?”

  “Even the messengers in the pond laugh at me for asking. ‘You have made your choice,’ my father tells me, ‘and now you must live with it.’ ”

  Kenreimon’in sighed. “What am I to do? I briefly saw my husband today, and for the first time in my life I saw Takakura afraid, truly afraid.”

  “You have little to fear,” said Nii no Ama. “You are Kiyomori’s daughter, and mother of his grandson who will be Emperor. Your position is the most secure in all the world.”

  “But for my son to become Emperor, my husband must no longer be on the throne. What will become of Takakura?”

  Nii no Ama stared down at the polished cedar floor. “As to that, I cannot say.”

  A Plain Ox-Carriage

  Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa awoke to the sounds of screams and running feet. Half out of a dream, he sat up on his sleeping platform, expecting the scent of fire on the air.

  The shōji slid open with a loud clack and servants came rushing in. “Majesty! Are you awake?”

  “I am. What hour is it?”

  “The Hour of The Monkey, nearly dawn. There are warriors surrounding Hōjūji Mansion! They demand you come out at once!”

  Hōjūji, thought Go-Shirakawa, not Sanjō. This is not the past. And yet, as he wrapped a hunting robe around himself, he could not help thinking some demon had transported him back to the most horrible moment in his life. He went out to the corridor and saw women, noble ladies and servants both, running past without even covering their faces, so fearful were they that fire might explode around them at any moment. As swiftly as his old body could manage, Go-Shirakawa ran out to the main gate and onto the street.

  He half expected to meet the ghosts of Nobuyori and General Yoshitomo there, staring down at him from their dragon horses. Instead he saw an uncomfortable-looking Taira Munemori, who was clearly not fully in control of the steed beneath him.

  “Munemori-san! What is this?”

  Not meeting the Retired Emperor’s gaze directly, Munemori gestured toward a plain ox-carriage that was being drawn up toward the gate. “Majesty, I must ask that you get in the carriage, quickly.”

  “What karma is this, that I must repeat my past horrors?” asked Go-Shirakawa. Was there a spy in the room when the Dharma Seal Jōken gave me his advice? But I have sent no edict to the Minomoto yet. The Taira have no proof that I intend to act against them.

  But Kiyomori was far crueler than the idiot Nobuyori had ever been. This was likely no quick exile to the Single-Copy Library. To enter the carriage might well mean a short journey to Rokuhara and a swift journey to death. “What is it your father intends, Munemori? What wrong have I done that it comes to this? If it is only that I have guided my Imperial son in the running of government, that is because Takakura is still young. If this is what disturbs your father, then I will no longer do so.”

  Munemori replied, “I do not know, Majesty. My father has only instructed me to say that he fears there will be unrest and he wishes to remove you to the Toba Mansion for your safety.”

  The mansion that once belonged to the late Retired Emperor Toba, Go-Shirakawa’s father, was on the far edge of the city and had been long abandoned. “Am I to be exiled then?”

  “I do not know, Majesty.”

  “Will I be allowed my guards and my servants?”

  “No, Majesty. Please hurry into the carriage.”

  “Munemori-san, what can I expect if I am unguarded? Surely you cannot permit a former Emperor to be treated in this fashion. Come with me and bring your men and serve as my guard. You Taira have always served me and my family honorably. There can be no shame in you performing such a service now.”

  Munemori looked around himself anxiously. “I … I cannot, Majesty. I do not know what my father would do. Please, get in the carriage. We do not want another Sanjō.”

  Go-Shirakawa’s heart sank, realizing that Munemori did not have the strength of spirit of his late brother Shigemori. There will be nothing to stop Kiyomori now. These may well be my last hours. Sadly, he climbed into the back of the carriage. Only his former nurse, now a Buddhist nun, was allowed to ride with him. His only armed escort were some lower-grade North Guardsmen from the palace. None of the Taira nobility rode alongside the carriage. His only consolation was that no fire was set to the Hōjūji Mansion as the carriage set out, and no screams of the dying accompanied his departure.

  As dawn broke, pouring light over Suzaku Avenue, the people of the city came out to watch Go-Shirakawa’s carriage pass. Many of them were openly weeping, for word had traveled fast as to what had occurred, and they, too, feared the worst for the Retired Emperor’s fate.

  So it has come to this, Go-Shirakawa could not stop thinking, as he pressed his sleeves to his face. So it has come to this.

  Before the Vermilion Curtain

  Munemori knelt on a silk cushion before the vermilion-gauze curtain that was all that stood between him and the august presence of Emperor Takakura. No longer did Munemori have to sit on the verandah outside and have his words transported by minister to the Sovereign of the Jeweled Throne. It had been only a month since Kiyomori had reentered Heian Kyō with his warriors. But so terrifying was his swift action in firing the ministers that no blood was shed, other than by suicide. The Taira were now indisputably the supreme power in the capital and could do as they wished. And because so many ministers had recently been sent packing, there was no one available to do the traditional speaking for and to the Emperor. Therefore, by right of power and position, as well as practicality, Munemori could sit in the same room as the holy descendant of Amaterasu as if he were any other lord. It felt, somehow, obscene.

  It was no easier task now that Munemori had, in essence, arrested the Emperor’s father and locked him up in a distant mansion with only two servants. “Majesty,” Munemori began, “my sister, the Empress, tells me you do not eat and that you spend all your time in prayer.”

  “She is correct,” said Takakura. Munemori was reminded of how young he was, only in his late teens, and yet his expression, what Munemori could see of it through the vermilion gauze, was solemn and sad.

  “She has said,” Munemori went on, “that you are considering retiring from the throne and becoming a monk.”

  “I am,” said Takakura.

  “I bring you word from Lord Kiyomori that he has no wish for you to do so. In fact, your father was … is being protected only so that he cannot be used by forces who mean ill. My father wishes that you now rule in your own right, create your own government as you see fit, since you will soon be of age. So confident is my father in your abilities that he has left for Fukuhara, pleased to leave the capital in your able hands.”

  “I cannot possibly rule,” said Takakura. “Until my father the Retired Emperor cedes responsibility to me. Were it not for the letters I receive from my father begging me to remain upon the throne, for his protection, I would have stepped down the moment you had taken him into your custody.”

  “Such an act would be quite unnecessary, Majesty” said Munemori, “and quite distressing to your people.”

  “Little Antoku would then become Emperor,” Takakura said. “Is that not what Lord Kiyomori wants?”

  Munemori laughed, an embarrassed bark. “Antoku has only been in this wo
rld for one year, Majesty. There is plenty of time until he will be ready to ascend the Jeweled Throne.”

  “I truly do not understand why you are talking to me at all, Munemori-san,” said Takakura. “So far as you Taira seem to be concerned, I am no one of importance.”

  Munemori bowed low to hide the shame on his face. “That is surely not so, Majesty.”

  “You are officially Palace Minister now, are you not?”

  “I am honored to have that position.”

  “Then I expect you will run the palace as you choose. For matters of government, I suggest you speak with my Regent, as Kiyomori-sama seems determined that I must still have one. Now if you will excuse me, I wish to return to my prayers.”

  Munemori opened his mouth to protest, but realized he was being summarily dismissed. It would have been beyond rudeness to remain. Munemori stood and bowed his way out of the Imperial chamber.

  He returned home. At nightfall, he burned the special incense upon a brazier and waited. It was not long before the Shin-In appeared.

  “Why have you summoned me?”

  “Because I am at a loss for what I am to do now.”

  The ghost sucked in air through his teeth, making his cheeks even more hollow. “You are Palace Minister. You are Chief of the Taira clan—”

  “No, my father is. I have only the title. Kiyomori is the one whom the Taira warriors obey.”

  “Is that your complaint? That you still haven’t power enough?”

  “No, not at all. It is only that … I do not understand your plans for the future.”

  “Who are you that you should know my plans?”

  “I have been your loyal servant these several years.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I could be of more help to you, if I knew what you intended. But there is still much I do not understand. For example, Takakura is devastated over my father’s treatment of his father. Takakura wants to leave the throne. The palace is nearly deserted, and I am sure the wardings have not been maintained. If you truly wished to rule Heian Kyō, would this not be a fine opportunity to possess Takakura himself?”