The Tales of the Heike

by Burton Watson

  Encircled by more than six thousand enemy horsemen, Yoshinaka’s three hundred galloped forward and backward, left and right, employing the spider-leg formation and the cross-formation in their efforts to escape from the circle. When they finally succeeded in breaking through to the rear, only fifty of them were left.

  Free at last, they then found their path blocked by more than two thousand horsemen under the command of Toi no Jirō Sanehira. Battling their way through them, they confronted four or five hundred of the enemy here, two or three hundred there, a hundred and fifty in another place, a hundred in still another, dashing this way and that until only five riders, Yoshinaka and four of his followers, remained. Tomoe, still uninjured, was among the five.

  Lord Kiso turned to her. “Hurry, hurry now! You’re a woman—go away, anywhere you like!” he said. “I intend to die in the fighting. And if it looks as though I’m about to be captured, I’ll take my own life. But I wouldn’t want it said that Lord Kiso fought his last battle in the company of a woman!”

  But Tomoe did not move. When Lord Kiso continued to press her, she thought to herself, “Ah! If only I had a worthy opponent so I could show him one last time what I can do in battle!”

  While she was hesitating, they encountered thirty horsemen under the command of Onda no Moroshige, a warrior of the province of Musashi who was renowned for his strength. Tomoe charged into the midst of Onda’s men, drew her horse up beside his, and, abruptly dragging him from his seat, pressed his head against the pommel of her saddle. After holding him motionless for a moment, she wrenched off his head and threw it away. Then she threw off her helmet and armor and fled somewhere in the direction of the eastern provinces.

  Of the other remaining horsemen, Tezuka Tarō was killed in the combat and Tezuka no Bettō fled. Only two men, Lord Kiso and Imai, remained.

  “Up until now I never gave a thought to my armor, but today it seems strangely heavy!” said Lord Kiso.

  “You can’t be tired yet, my lord,” said Imai, “and your horse is in good shape. A few pounds of choice armor could not weigh on you that heavily. It’s just that your spirits are flagging because we have so few men left. You still have me, though, and you should think of me as a thousand men. I still have seven or eight arrows, and I’ll use them to keep the enemy at bay. Those trees you see there in the distance are the pine groves of Awazu. Go over among those trees and make an end of things!”

  As they spurred their horses onward, they spied a new group of some fifty mounted warriors heading toward them. “Hurry over to that grove of pines! I’ll hold off these men!” he repeated.

  “I ought to have died in the fighting in the capital,” said Lord Kiso, “but I’ve come this far because I wanted to die with you. Rather than dying one here and the other there, it’s better that we die together!”

  When Lord Kiso insisted on galloping at his side, Imai leaped to the ground, seized the bit of Lord Kiso’s horse, and declared, “No matter how fine a name a warrior may make for himself at most times, if he should slip up at the last, it could mean an everlasting blot on his honor. You are tired and we have no more men to fight with us. Suppose we become separated in combat and you are surrounded and cut down by a mere retainer, a person of no worth at all! How terrible if people were to say, ‘Lord Kiso, famous throughout the whole of Japan—done in by so-and-so’s retainer!’ You must hurry to that grove of pines!”

  “If it must be—” said Lord Kiso, and he turned his horse in the direction of the Awazu pines.

  Imai, alone, charged into the midst of the fifty enemy horsemen. Rising up in his stirrups, he shouted in a loud voice, “Up to now you’ve heard reports of me—now take a look with your own eyes! Imai no Shirō Kanehira, foster brother of Lord Kiso, thirty-three years of age. Even the lord of Kamakura has heard of me. Come cut me down and show him my head!”

  Then, fitting his eight remaining arrows to his bow in rapid succession, he sent them flying. With no thought for his own safety, he proceeded to shoot down eight of the enemy riders. Then, drawing his sword, he charged now this way, now that, felling all who came within reach of his weapon, so that no one dared to face him. He took many trophies in the process. His attackers encircled him with cries of “Shoot him! Shoot him!” But although the arrows fell like rain, they could not pierce his stout armor or find any opening to get through, and so he remained uninjured.

  Meanwhile, Lord Kiso galloped off alone toward the Awazu pine grove. It was the twenty-first day of the first lunar month, and evening was approaching. The winter rice paddies were covered with a thin layer of ice, and Lord Kiso, unaware of how deep the water was, allowed his horse to stumble into one of them. In no time the horse had sunk into the mud until its head could not be seen. He dug in with his stirrups again and again, laid on lash after lash with his whip, but could not get the animal to move.

  Wondering what had become of Imai, he turned to look behind him, when one of the enemy riders who had been pursuing him, Ishida Tamehisa of Miura, drew his bow far back and shot an arrow that pierced the area of Lord Kiso’s face unprotected by his helmet. Mortally wounded, he slumped forward, the bowl of his helmet resting on the horse’s head, whereupon two of Ishida’s retainers fell on him and cut off his head. Ishida impaled the head on the tip of his sword and, raising it high in the air, shouted, “Lord Kiso, famed these days throughout all of Japan, has been killed by Ishida no Jirō Tamehisa of Miura!”

  Although Imai had continued to battle the enemy, when he heard this, he asked, “Who is left now to go on fighting for? You lords of the eastern provinces, I’ll show you how the bravest man in all Japan takes his life!” Then he thrust the tip of his sword into his mouth and flung himself down from his horse in such a way that the sword passed through his body, and so he died. Thus there was no real battle at Awazu.

  As the Genji fight among themselves, the Taira return to the old capital at Fukuhara and establish a stronghold at Ichi-no-tani near the shore (of what is now the city of Kobe), protected to the north by steep mountains and to the south by the Inland Sea. Yoshitsune prepares to attack, but the Taira’s position at Ichi-no-tani seems impervious to a direct assault.

  Lord Kiso’s horse (left) is caught in a frozen field, where Kiso is shot down by Ishida. When Kanehira (right) hears of his death, he places a sword in his mouth and kills himself.

  The Old Horse (9:9)

  Palace Minister Munemori dispatched Yoshiyuki of Aki as his spokesman to the other Heike lords with this message: “Word has come that Yoshitsune has attacked and overcome our forces at Mikusa and is pushing his way into the Ichi-no-tani area. It is imperative that the mountain approach be defended. All of you will favor me by proceeding there!” But the Taira lords unanimously declined to heed his request.

  Munemori then approached Noritsune, the governor of Noto. “I hesitate to keep turning to you for help, but will you be good enough to go to the mountain area?”

  Noritsune replied, “Military actions go well only when you think of nothing else. If you go about it as you would in hunting or fishing, looking for a comfortable spot, trying to avoid a position that is in any way unfavorable, you will never win the battle. You may request my help as often as you like—I am quite willing to take on a difficult assignment. And in my sector at least, I will defeat the enemy—you may rest assured of that!”

  Highly pleased with the confident tone of this reply, Munemori sent Noritsune a force of more than ten thousand riders headed by Moritoshi of Etchū. Moritoshi’s elder brother Michimori, the governor of Echizen, joined the expedition, and together they went to strengthen the Heike defenses in the mountain region. By the mountain region is meant the foothills in the region of Hiyodori Pass.

  Michimori sent for his wife and had her brought to Noritsune’s encampment so he could say good-bye to her. Noritsune, greatly angered by this, observed, “This is a crucial position and I have been sent to guard it. Our situation here is extremely precarious. At any moment the Genji could swoop down o
n us from the hilltops, and if that happens there’ll be no time for preparations. If you grab a bow it will be useless if you don’t have time to fit an arrow to it; if you fit an arrow, it won’t do any good if you have no time to draw the bow. And how much worse if you go about things in the leisurely way that you are doing! You’ll be no use to us at all!”

  Michimori evidently realized that Noritsune’s censures were reasonable, for he quickly began arming himself properly and had his wife sent away.

  Around evening of the fifth day, the Genji left their camp at Koyano and began slowly advancing in the direction of the Heike encampment at Ikuta-no-mori. Watching from their position toward Suzume-no-matsubara, Mikage-no-mori, and Koyano, the Heike could see the Genji confidently building camps here and there and setting beacon fires. As the night advanced, the fires glowed like the moon rising from behind the hills. “In that case, we’ll build beacon fires, too!” said the Heike, and they began to light fires of their own in Ikuta-no-mori. As the night came to a close, the fires shone like stars in the gradually brightening sky. The onlookers understood then what the poet had in mind when he spoke of distant fires resembling fireflies on the riverbank.1

  The Genji went about their business is an unhurried manner, resting their horses in a camp set up here, feeding their horses fodder in a camp set up there. But the Heike were anxious and ill at ease, anticipating an attack at any moment.

  At dawn on the sixth day, Yoshitsune divided his ten thousand horsemen into two parties, placing seven thousand of them under the command of Toi Sanehira and sending them off to attack Ichi-no-tani from the west. He himself took the remaining three thousand and went around by way of the Tanba road, intending to attack from the rear in the area of Hiyodori Pass.

  “That area is a notoriously bad spot!” his men grumbled. “We are willing enough to die fighting the enemy, but nobody wants to get killed by falling down a cliff! Isn’t there someone who knows these mountains and can guide us?”

  Hirayama Sueshige of the province of Musashi came forward and announced, “I’ll be your guide!”

  “You’re from the eastern provinces,” said Yoshitsune. “How could you know anything about these western mountains when you’ve only set eyes on them for the first time today!”

  “I’m not sure I agree with that,” Sueshige replied. “Poets know all about the cherry blossoms at Yoshino or Hatsuse, whether or not they’ve been there. And a brave man knows well enough how to come up from behind on an enemy stronghold!” He did not seem to care how brash his words sounded.

  Next to come forward was Beppu no Kotarō, also from Musashi, a young man of eighteen. “My father, the monk Yoshishige, used to tell me, ‘Whether you’re pursued by an enemy or hunting in the passes, if you lose your way deep in the mountains, toss the reins over the back of an old horse and drive him ahead of you. He’s sure to find the way out!’”

  “Well spoken!” said Yoshitsune. “An old horse knows the way even when the fields are blanketed with snow—there’ve been cases to prove it.” He accordingly gave orders that an old roan with white markings be fitted with a gold-trimmed saddle and white-polished bit. The reins were then thrown over its back, and it was driven ahead to lead the party through the unknown depths of the mountains.

  It was the beginning of the Second Month, and patches of snow lingered on the peaks, looking like white blossoms in the distance. At times the party was visited by bush warblers from the valleys; at other times they lost their way in mist. Climbing up, they found themselves among gleaming peaks that soared into the white clouds; descending, they came on green wooded hills with craggy cliffs that dropped off steeply. Even the snow on pine tops had yet to melt, and moss all but buried the few faint trails. When storm winds blew, one might have taken the snow flakes for plum blossoms.2

  Flailing whips to left and right and urging their mounts onward, the men, finding that evening had overtaken them on the mountain path, dismounted and made camp for the night.

  Musashibō Benkei appeared with an old man in tow. “Who is this?” asked Yoshitsune.

  “A hunter who lives in these mountains,” Benkei replied.

  “Then he must know the region. Have him tell us what he knows!”

  “Why would I not know the area?” said the old man.

  “We are on our way to attack the Heike stronghold at Ichi-no-tani.”

  “You will never get there!” said the old man. “There are three-hundred-foot gorges, cliffs jutting out more than a hundred feet, and places a man on foot can’t even get by, much less men on horses! What’s more, the Heike have dug pits and set up spiked barricades—you’d have to deal with them as well!”

  “Can deer make their way through these places you speak of?”

  “Yes, deer can get through. As soon as the weather warms up, the deer from Harima go north to Tanba to bed down in the deep grass. And when it gets cold, the Tanba deer cross over to Inamino in Harima where there’s less snow and it’s easy to forage.”

  “Then there’s our riding path!” said Yoshitsune. “If deer can get through, there’s no reason horses can’t! Hurry and show us the way!”

  “I’m afraid it’s too much for an old man like me.”

  “You must have a son, don’t you?”

  “I do,” replied the old man, and brought forward a boy of eighteen named Kumaō. Yoshitsune immediately had the boy’s hair put up in manly fashion and, since the father’s name was Washio no Takehisa, gave him the name Washio no Yoshihisa and ordered him to take the lead and guide the party through the mountains.

  Years later, after the Heike had been defeated and Yoshitsune had a falling-out with his brother Yoritomo and was attacked in the region of Ōshū, this same Washio no Yoshihisa was among the warriors who died at his side.

  Several Minamoto warriors attempt to be the first to enter the Taira’s main defenses on the shore. One of the first to do so is Kumagae Naozane, who withdraws when his son Kojirō is wounded. Later, a large Minamoto force attacks the Taira positions to the east but is beaten back.

  The Attack from the Cliff (9:12)

  After this, the other Genji warriors charged into the fray, the Chichibu, the Ashikaga, the Miura, the Kamakura, and the Inomata, Kodama, Noiyo, Yokoyama, Nishitō, Tsuzukitō, and Shinotō leagues, until all the Genji and Heike forces had closed in combat. The two sides repeatedly dashed into each other’s ranks, calling out their names back and forth, shouting and clamoring until the hills resounded with their cries, the din of their charging horses echoing like thunder. The arrows whizzing back and forth resembled nothing so much as torrents of rain. Some warriors, a wounded comrade on their backs, struggled to make their way toward the rear; others, despite being wounded, continued to fight while the mortally wounded fell dead where they were. Men rode side by side, grappling together and slashing at each other until one delivered a fatal stab to the other. Some held their foe down while they cut off his head; others, pinned down, had their heads lopped off in a like manner. Neither side revealed any weakness that its attackers could turn to advantage, and the Genji forces through their frontal attack alone did not seem to be able to gain victory.

  Meanwhile, Yoshitsune had circled around to the rear and by dawn of the seventh day had climbed up to the region of Hiyodori Pass, preparing to swoop down on the Heike position at Ichi-no-tani. Just then, two stags and a doe, perhaps startled by the Genji horsemen, fled downhill in the direction of the Heike stronghold at Ichi-no-tani.

  Catching sight of them, the Heike soldiers in the fort below exclaimed excitedly, “All the deer around here must have been so frightened of us that they fled far off into the mountains. That these deer would deliberately come toward a large force like ours seems highly peculiar! It must mean that the Genji are getting ready to charge down on us from above!”

  Takechi Kiyonori, a man from Iyo Province, came forward. “Whatever it means,” he said, “if they come from the direction of the enemy, we shouldn’t let them by!” and he proceeded to fe
ll the two stags with his bow and arrows, though he let the doe get away.

  “What’s the good of your shooting at deer!” objected Moritoshi of Etchū. “With just one of those arrows, you could have held off ten of the enemy. Killing is a sin to begin with, and then you waste arrows!” he grumbled.

  Yoshitsune looked down over the Heike stronghold in the distance. “Try sending some of the horses down,” he ordered. A few of the saddled horses were accordingly sent galloping down the slope. Some broke their legs and fell along the way, but others managed to reach the bottom without mishap. Three of them pulled up near the roof of Etchū Moritoshi’s encampment and stood there trembling with fright.

  Observing this, Yoshitsune announced, “If the riders are careful enough, the horses can get down without injury. Look lively, now—I’ll show you how it’s done!” Leading a force of thirty horsemen, he plummeted down the slope. The rest of the force followed, the incline so steep that the stirrups of the men in the rear clattered against the armor and helmets of those ahead of them. The ground was sandy, with scatterings of small rocks and stones, so that the riders fairly slid down for a distance of some seven hundred feet until they reached a shelflike stretch that halted their fall.

  Peering down below, they could see only huge moss-shrouded rocks, a sheer drop of some hundred and forty or fifty feet. No way to go back where they had come from, no way to go forward that they could see, the men were utterly baffled, exclaiming, “This is the end!”

  Just then, Sawara Yoshitsura came forward. “In Miura where I come from, we think nothing of galloping day and night over places like this just to get at a bird on the wing. This is a Miura-style racecourse!” he declared and led the way by plunging down the slope. The rest of the men followed. “Ei! Ei!” they cried in muffled voices, encouraging their horses on, the descent so terrifying that they kept their eyes closed as they went down. It seemed a feat impossible for mere human beings to accomplish, instead a performance by devils or spirits.