The Tales of the Heike

by Burton Watson

  “Who is that?” the retired emperor inquired, whereupon the old nun, repressing her tears, replied, “The one with the flower basket on her arm, carrying branches of wild azalea, is the imperial lady. The one carrying brushwood and bunches of edible ferns is the daughter of Junior Counselor Korezane. She became the adopted daughter of Senior Counselor Lord Kunitsuna and afterward was the wet nurse to the late emperor, going by the name Dainagon no Suke.” Her voice trailed off in tears. The retired emperor, too, moved by the scene, could not keep from weeping.

  Retired Emperor GoShirakawa (right) visits Ken’reimonin at the Jakkō-in at Ōhara. GoShirakawa (left) watches Ken’reimonin come down the mountain with flowers that she has gathered.

  Taking note of the situation, Kenreimon’in thought to herself, “I have abandoned all concern for worldly affairs, yet I would hate to have them see me dressed like this. If only there were someplace I could hide!” But such hopes were vain. Evening after evening she wet her sleeves as she dipped water for the Buddha’s altar, and each dawn when she rose the dew on the mountain path further dampened her sleeves, so that they were seldom wrung dry. Added to these now were her tears. She could not return to the hilltop, nor could she enter her own rooms unseen. She stood in blank indecision until the old nun, Awa-no-naishi, went to her and took the flower basket from her arm.

  The Six Paths of Existence (4)

  “A nun must look as you do—why should it seem such a hardship?” said Awa-no-naishi. “You must receive His Majesty so that he may begin his journey back.” Kenreimon’in accordingly returned to her hut.

  “In front of the window where I recite a single invocation of the Buddha’s name, I look for the rays of light that proclaim his advent. By my brushwood door with ten invocations I await the host of holy ones coming to escort me. But how strange and beyond all thought is this visit from Your Majesty!” She wept as she greeted him.

  The retired emperor surveyed her form and attire. “Even those beings in the abode of No-Thought, though they live for eighty thousand kalpas,” he said, “must suffer the sadness of inevitable extinction. Even those in the Sixth Heaven5 of the realm of form cannot escape the pain of the Five Marks of Decay.6 The delights of longevity enjoyed by the god Indra in his Joyful Sight Citadel or the soaring pavilions of the god Brahma in the midst of the Meditation Heavens are no more than dreamlike boons, phantom pleasures of the moment.7 All are bound to the wheel of unending change and transmigration, like cartwheels turning. The sadness of the Five Marks of Decay suffered by these heavenly beings must be borne, it seems, by us humans as well!” And then he added, “Who comes to visit you here? You must brood much on the events of the past.”

  “I do not receive visits from anyone,” Kenreimon’in responded, “although I have some tidings now and then from my sisters, the wives of Takafusa and Nobutaka. In the past I would never, for a moment, have supposed that I would one day look to them for support.” She wept as she said this, and the women attending her likewise wet their sleeves with tears.

  Restraining her tears, Kenreimon’in spoke once more. “My current existence is no more than a passing tribulation, and when I think that it may lead to wisdom in the world to come, I look on it as joyful. I have made haste to join the latter-day disciples of Shakyamuni and reverently entrusted myself to Amida’s original vow of salvation so that I may escape the bitterness of the five obstacles and three submissions imposed on a woman.8 Three times daily and nightly I labor to purify the six senses, hopeful that I may immediately win rebirth in one of the nine grades of the Pure Land. My only prayer is that all we members of the Taira clan may gain enlightenment, always trusting that the three venerable ones will come to greet us. The face of my son, the late emperor, I will never forget, whatever world may come. I try to forget but I can never do so; I try to endure the pain but it is unendurable. There is no bond more compelling than that between parent and child. Day and night I make it my duty to pray for his salvation. And this endeavor has been like a good friend leading me into the path of the Buddha.”

  The retired emperor offered an answer. “Although I have been born in these far-off islands no bigger than scattered millet seeds, because I reverently observed in a past existence the Ten Good Acts of Conduct, I have been privileged in this one to become a ruler of ten thousand chariots. Everything I could wish for has been granted to me; my heart has been denied nothing. And most particularly, because I was fortunate enough to be born in an age when the Buddhist teachings are propagated, I have set my heart on practicing the Buddha way and do not doubt that in the time to come I will be reborn in a far better place. We should have learned by now, I suppose, not to question the miseries of human existence. And yet, seeing you like this seems too pitiful a sight!”

  The imperial lady began to speak once more. “I was the daughter of the Taira prime minister and the mother of the nation’s ruler—anything in the entire realm and the four seas surrounding it was mine for the asking. Beginning with the rites that mark the advent of spring, through the seasonal changes of clothing, to the recitation of Buddha names that brings the year to a close, I was waited on by all the high ministers and courtiers, from the regent on down. There were none of the hundred officials who did not look up to me with awe, as though I dwelled on the clouds of the Six Heavens of the realm of desire or the four Meditation Heavens, with the eighty thousand heavenly beings encircling me. I lived in the Seiryō or Shishinden palaces, curtained by jeweled hangings, in spring spending the days with my eyes fixed on the cherries of the Southern Pavilion; enduring the oppressive heat of summer’s three months through the comfort of fountain waters; never left without companions to watch the cloud-borne autumn moon; on winter nights when the snow lay cold, I was swathed in layers of bed clothing. I wanted to learn the arts of prolonging life and evading old age, even if it meant seeking the herbs of immortality from the island of Penglai, for my sole wish was to live on and on. Day and night I thought of nothing but pleasure, believing that the happy fortune enjoyed by the heavenly beings could not surpass this life of mine.

  “And then, in early autumn of the Juei era [1183], because of threats from Kiso no Yoshinaka or some such person, all the members of our Taira clan saw the capital that had been our home grow as distant as the clouds themselves, and looked back as our former dwellings in Fukuhara were reduced to fire-blackened fields. We made our way by water from Suma to Akashi, places that in the past were mere names to us, grieving over our lot. By day we plied the boundless waves, moistening our sleeves with spray; at night we cried until dawn with the plovers on sandy points along the shore. Moving from bay to bay, island to island, we saw scenery pleasant enough but could never forget our old home. With no place to take refuge, we knew the misery of the Five Marks of Decay and the prospect of certain extinction.

  “Separation from loved ones, meeting with suffering, encounter with all that is hateful—in my life as a human being, I have experienced all of these. The Four Sufferings,9 the Eight Sufferings10—not one of them have I been spared! And then, in a place called Dazaifu in the province of Chikuzen, we were driven away by some Koreyoshi person who refused us lodging in Kyushu—a broad land of mountains and plains but with nowhere that we could take shelter. Once more, autumn drew to a close, but the moon, which we used to watch from the heights of the nine-tier palace, this year we watched from salt-sea paths eightfold in their remoteness.

  “So the days and nights passed until in the Tenth Month, the Godless Month, the middle captain, Kiyotsune, declared, ‘The capital has fallen to the Genji; we have been hounded out of Chinzei by Koreyoshi—we’re like fish caught in a net! Where can we find safety? What hope have I of living out my life?’ And with these words he drowned himself in the sea, the beginning of our first sorrows.

  “We passed our days on the waves, our nights in the boats. No articles of tribute came in as they had in the past, no one gave us any supplies or provisions. Even on the rare occasion when we had food, we had no water with wh
ich to eat it. We were afloat on the vast ocean, but its waters, being salty, were undrinkable. Thus I came to know the sufferings of those who inhabit the realm of hungry spirits.

  “After that, we won victory in certain encounters such as those at Muroyama and Mizushima, and our people’s countenances began to be somewhat more cheerful. But then came Ichi-no-tani, when we lost so many of our clansmen. Thereafter, instead of informal robes and court dress, our men put on helmets, buckled on armor, and from morning until night we heard only the din and cry of battle. Then I knew that the assaults of the asura demons, their clashes with the god Indra, must present just such a spectacle as this.

  “After the defeat at Ichi-no-tani, young men perished before their fathers, wives were torn from husbands. When we spied a boat in the sea, we trembled lest it be an enemy craft; when we glimpsed herons roosting in distant pine trees, our hearts stopped, for we mistook them for the white banners of the Genji. Then came the naval battle in the straits between the Moji and Akama barriers, and it seemed as though that day must be our last.

  “My mother, the Nun of the Second Rank, said to me, ‘At such a time as this a man has little more than one chance in ten thousand of surviving. And even though some distant relative might survive the day alive, he would not be the kind who could offer prayers for our well-being in the life hereafter. But it has been the custom from times past to spare the women in such a conflict. If you should manage to live out the day, you must pray that your son, the emperor, may find salvation in the life to come, and help the rest of us with your prayers as well!’ Over and over she urged this on me, and I listened as though in a dream.

  “But then the wind began to blow and thick clouds blanketed the sky. Our warriors’ hearts failed them, for it seemed that whatever fortune we had enjoyed with Heaven had now run out and that human efforts were no longer of any help.

  “When the Nun of the Second Rank saw how things stood, she lifted the emperor in her arms and hastened to the side of the boat. Startled and confused, the child said, ‘Grandma, where are you going to take me?’

  “‘Don’t you understand?’ she said, gazing at his innocent face and struggling to hold back her tears. ‘In your previous life you were careful to observe the Ten Good Rules of Conduct, and for that reason you were reborn in this life as a ruler of ten thousand chariots. But now evil entanglements have you in their power, and your days of good fortune have come to an end. First, you must face east and bid farewell to the goddess of the Grand Shrine at Ise. Then you must turn west and trust in Amida Buddha to come with his hosts to greet you and lead you to his Pure Land. Turn your face to the west now, and recite the invocation of the Buddha’s name. This far-off land of ours is no bigger than a millet seed, a realm of sorrow and adversity. Let us leave it now and go together to a place of rejoicing, the Paradise of the Pure Land!’

  “The child was dressed in a dove gray robe, his hair done in boyish loops on either side of his head. His face bathed in tears, he pressed his small hands together, knelt down, and bowed first toward the east, taking his leave of the deity of the Ise Shrine. Then he turned toward the west and began chanting the invocation of Amida’s name. And when I saw the nun, with the boy in her arms, at last sink beneath the sea, my eyes grew dim and my wits seemed to leave me. I try to forget that moment, but I can never do so. I try to endure the pain, but it is more than I can endure. The wails of the wrongdoers who suffer in the depths of the Hell of Shrieks and the Hell of Great Shrieks could not be more heartrending, I believe, than the screams and cries of those of us who lived to witness these events!

  “After that, I was taken prisoner by the Genji warriors and set out on the journey back to the capital. When we had put in at the bay of Akashi in the province of Harima, I happened to doze off, and in my dream found myself in a place far surpassing in beauty the imperial palace I had known in earlier times. My son, the late emperor, was there, and all the high ministers and courtiers of the Taira clan were waiting on him with the most solemn ceremony. Never since leaving the capital had I beheld such magnificent surroundings, and I said to the people, ‘What place is this?’

  “Someone who appeared to be my mother, the Nun of the Second Rank, replied, ‘This is the palace of the dragon king.’

  “‘What a wonderful place!’ I exclaimed. ‘And do those who live here not suffer?’

  “‘Our lot is described in the sutras on dragons and beasts. You must pray in all earnestness for our salvation in the world to come!’

  “As soon as she had spoken these words, I awoke from my dream. Since then I have been more diligent than ever in reciting sutras and invoking the Buddha’s name, hopeful that thereby I may help them attain salvation. And so you see, in this manner I have experienced all six paths of existence.”

  When she had finished speaking, the retired emperor said, “The Tripitaka master, Xuanzang, in China is reported to have seen the six paths of existence before he attained enlightenment, and in our own country the Venerable Nichizō, we are told, was able to see them through the power of the deity Zaō Gongen. But that you have seen them before your very eyes is miraculous indeed!”

  He wept as he spoke these words, and the lords and courtiers attending him all wet their sleeves with tears. Kenreimon’in, too, broke down in tears, as did her women companions.

  The Death of the Imperial Lady (5)

  While they were speaking, the bell of the Jakkō-in sounded, signaling the close of the day, and the sun sank beyond the western hills. The retired emperor, reluctant though he was to leave, wiped away his tears and prepared to begin the journey back.

  All her memories of the past brought back to her once more, Kenreimon’in could scarcely stem the flood of tears with her sleeve. She stood watching as the imperial entourage set out for the capital, watching until it was far in the distance. Then she turned to the image of the Buddha and, speaking through her tears, uttered this prayer: “May the spirit of the late emperor and the souls of all my clanspeople who perished attain complete and perfect enlightenment; may they quickly gain the wisdom of the Buddhas!”

  In the past she had faced eastward with this petition: “Great Deity of the Grand Shrine of Ise and Great Bodhisattva Hachiman, may the Son of Heaven be blessed with most wonderful longevity, may he live a thousand autumns, ten thousand years!” But now she changed direction and, facing west with palms pressed together, in sorrow spoke these words: “May the souls of all those who have perished find their way to Amida’s Pure Land!”

  On the sliding panel of her sleeping room she had inscribed the following poems:

  When did my heart learn such ways?

  Of late I think so longingly of palace companions I once knew!

  The past, too, has vanished like a dream—

  my days by this brushwood door cannot be long in number!

  Ken’reimonin (right), together with the nuns Dainagon-no-suke and Awa-no-naishi, pray to the Buddha. Ken’reimonin (left) is welcomed to the Pure Land by Amida Buddha and two bodhisattvas riding on a lavender cloud.

  The following poem is reported to have been inscribed on a pillar of Kenreimon’in’s retreat by Minister of the Left Sanesada, one of the officials who accompanied the retired emperor on his visit:

  You who in past times were likened to the moon—

  dwelling now deep in these faraway mountains, a light no longer shining—.

  Once, when Kenreimon’in was bathed in tears, overwhelmed by memories of the past and thoughts of the future, she heard the cry of a mountain cuckoo and wrote this poem:

  Come then, cuckoo, let us compare tears—

  I too do nothing but cry out in a world of pain

  The Taira warriors who survived the Dan-no-ura hostilities and were taken prisoner were paraded through the main streets of the capital and then either beheaded or sent into exile far from their wives and children. With the exception of Taira no Yorimori, not one escaped execution or was permitted to remain in the capital.

  With regar
d to the forty or more Taira wives, no special punitive measures were taken—they were left to join their relatives or to seek aid from persons they had known in the past. But even those fortunate enough to find themselves seated within sumptuous hangings were not spared the winds of uncertainty, and those who ended in humble brushwood dwellings could not live free of dust and turmoil. Husbands and wives who had slept pillow to pillow now found themselves at the far ends of the sky. Parents and children who had nourished each other no longer even knew each other’s whereabouts. Although their loving thoughts never for a moment ceased, lament as they might, they had somehow to endure these things.

  And all of this came about because the lay priest and prime minister Taira no Kiyomori, holding the entire realm within the four seas in the palm of his hand, showed no respect for the ruler above or the slightest concern for the masses of common people below. He dealt out sentences of death or exile in any fashion that suited him, took no heed of how the world or those in it might view his actions—and this is what happened! There can be no room for doubt—it was the evil deeds of the father, the patriarch, that caused the heirs and offspring to suffer this retribution!

  After some time had gone by, Kenreimon’in fell ill. Grasping the five-color cord attached to the hand of Amida Buddha, the central figure in the sacred triad, she repeatedly invoked his name: “Hail to the Thus Come One Amida, lord of teachings of the Western Paradise—may you guide me there without fail!” The nuns Dainagon-no-suke and Awa-no-naishi attended her on her left and right, their voices raised in unrestrained weeping, for they sensed in their grief that her end was now at hand. As the sound of the dying woman’s recitations grew fainter and fainter, a purple cloud appeared from the west, the room became filled with a strange fragrance, and the strains of music could be heard in the sky. Human life has its limits, and that of the imperial lady ended in the middle days of the Second Month in the second year of the Kenkyū era [1191].