Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
The ex-Emperor Sutoku galloped north of Shirakawa, while other horses and foot-soldiers straggled after him in confusion, until they were left far behind.
As Yorinaga galloped out by one of the small gates, he gave a hideous cry and plunged from his saddle, dragging his companion with him. Other riders drew up to see what had happened and found Yorinaga writhing in agony, an arrow through his neck; blood spurted from the wound, rapidly staining his pale-blue hunting tunic.
"Quickly—pull out the arrow!" the courtiers cried to one another, but no one moved until an aide approached them.
"We have no time to lose! If the enemy finds us, it will be the end of us," he cried, and, kneeling, he drew out the arrow, stanched the blood, and got two officials to carry Yorinaga away to a peasant's hut near by and there left him.
The ex-Emperor Sutoku, meanwhile, escaped to the foot of the Eastern Hills, where he abandoned his horse and, accompanied by Tameyoshi of the Genji, Tadamasa, and several courtiers, painfully made his way on foot over the wild hillside. Tired and footsore, Sutoku presently cried that he was thirsty. His troubled followers, however, could find no water, for their path lay along a ridge, and the extended drought had dried up the springs. Then they heard a voice calling from behind.
"Here, here is water for his majesty. I have brought him water."
Sutoku's followers were astonished to see a man breaking his way through the thick undergrowth and clambering toward them. It was Asatori, the caretaker of the Willow Spring, who prostrated himself before Sutoku.
"Here is water from the Willow Spring itself, your majesty," Asatori said, holding out a length of green bamboo with trembling hands.
Sutoku stared at Asatori in astonishment: "The caretaker of the Willow Spring!"
Asatori bowed.
". . . Asatori!"
"Your majesty, the bamboo may have tainted this water, but this is from the same spring from which you have drunk these fourteen years."
"But how—what made you come all that way with water for me?"
"It seems like a dream now, but only the day before yesterday the Emperor's troops surrounded the Willow-Spring Palace and there was fighting there. Though I was determined to stay and guard the spring, the flames drove me away."
Asatori spoke rapidly, for he saw how the ex-Emperor's attendants were anxious to be on their way.
"Asatori, I shall drink this water which you brought in the goodness of your heart. . . ." Lifting the section of bamboo to his lips, the ex-Emperor drank deeply. "This is most refreshing. Sweet as the dew from heaven!" he said, handing back the container, not quite empty. "Keep the rest yet, for it is too precious to throw away."
Night came, but there was no rest for the fugitives, for the Emperor's troops were now scattered throughout the hills in search of them. Too tired to care any longer what happened, Sutoku begged his followers to leave him, telling each one to find his way to safety. But Tameyoshi, tears in his eyes, admonished him: "We cannot leave you here, sir. You must try to bear this a few days longer. It wrings my heart to see you exposed to such hardships. I believe we can find our way to the road which leads down to Omi. Once there, we can decide what we shall do to recover our losses."
Even before their disastrous retreat, Tameyoshi had discussed a plan with Yorinaga, but the Minister had confidently waved it aside. Tameyoshi had planned, should the coup fail, to reach the eastern side of Mount Hiei and cross Lake Biwa to Omi, on the opposite shore. There he was sure he could find refuge with other Genji clansmen. He was certain that they would rally to him in sufficient numbers for a retaliatory attack. Failing this, he had thoughts of going farther east to the Kanto Plain in the region of Sagami, where numerous branches of the Genji had settled, and of there gathering an army that would finally restore Sutoku to the throne. All this Tameyoshi recounted to the ex-Emperor, but Sutoku confessed he had lost all hope and wished for nothing more than to be left with two followers, while the others escaped to safety.
The ten who had accompanied Sutoku in his flight accepted their dismissal. Last to leave were Tameyoshi and Tadamasa, who set out separately for Mount Hiei before dawn.
The two officials who stayed behind with the ex-Emperor now urged the safety of going farther into the hills, but the tired Sutoku hung back. A sudden rustling in the undergrowth startled the three, and a voice was heard:
"Your majesty, allow me to carry you on my back and go part of the way with you, for the path is dark and the way grows steeper."
"Asatori! What made you come again? Why haven't you gone with the rest?"
"I, too, must go into hiding, but let me serve you a few days longer."
Asatori stooped and offered to carry Sutoku on his back.
A heavy mist hung over the peaks, but in the distance the sky over the City of Peace and Tranquillity still glowed a sullen red from the fires consuming part of the capital. Toward dawn, while Sutoku slept, Asatori disappeared. He returned later with some food that he said he had begged from a hermit who lived near by.
Iyehiro, who had kept watch all night, now said: "It will not be possible to cook anything here for fear the smoke will be seen by our enemies. Just before dawn I thought I heard soldiers' voices right above us. His majesty apparently wishes to take the tonsure, but there is no one here to perform the rites. Can you find us an old litter so we can carry him until we find a priest?"
Taking Mitsuhiro with him, Asatori led the way down to a hamlet, and was back soon with an old dilapidated litter.
Both Iyehiro and Mitsuhiro then took off their armor and other accouterments, tucked back their sleeves, and looped up their tunics to make themselves appear as much like servants as they could. That day they carried Sutoku down through the hills toward the capital. News that the fighting was over brought refugees straggling back from the hills and near-by hamlets, and the litter mingled inconspicuously with groups of old and young who were returning to their homes in the capital.
Iyehiro and Mitsuhiro, unused to their task, staggered and tottered over the dust-laden roads, streaming with perspiration, in search of Lady Awa's mansion. When they reached it they found the gates barred and no sign of life within. From there they went on to the house of Councilor Norinaga and found the mansion deserted, for Norinaga, a passer-by told them, had taken the tonsure just before the war began and no one knew where he had gone. Next they knocked at the gate of a gentlewoman who had served in Sutoku's household, but no one appeared; all they saw was a kitten curled up under a hedge. From east to west they crossed the capital, seeking refuge, and found none. Now and again they passed great houses from which came the sounds of the victors rejoicing. Twilight had set in when Iyehiro recalled a small temple where they might find admittance; once more they shouldered their burden and made their way there. They found an old priest, a relative of one of Iyehiro's housemen, who served Sutoku a bowl of millet porridge and later shaved his head by the dim light of a lamp.
The following day Iyehiro and Mitsuhiro took Sutoku to Ninna-ji Temple, where his younger brother was Abbot. The Abbot was away, and his servants refused to admit them until, at Sutoku's insistence, they were allowed to find shelter in one of the outhouses. Here Sutoku's two companions finally took leave of their master, and each departed for some unknown destination in a distant province.
With the firing of the palace at Shirakawa began the destruction by flame of the mansions of those who had sided with the ex-Emperor. For four days and nights the air of the capital was acrid with smoke. On the second night, however, a drizzle set in, and on the third day a heavy rain fell. That night a boat piled with firewood floated down the Katsura River and waited at the river mouth for the wind and rain to subside. Several shivering figures, half-concealed by rush mats, huddled wet and miserable at the bottom of the boat, and from time to time there were groans from one who lay prone on the planks.
"Have we reached Uji yet? . . . How much longer will it be?" Yorinaga asked in a bare whisper.
The dying Yorinaga's last prayer was to see his father in Uji once more.
Nothing more eventful than the beady-eyed stares of cormorants along the riverbank interrupted the slow progress toward Uji. From time to time Yorinaga groaned as an attendant held down the struggling man and applied burning wormwood to the wound in his throat. The treatment had so far stanched the blood and, in the summer heat, kept maggots from breeding in the open wound. Incense smoke and the fumes of wormwood drifted on the-air, while Yorinaga, roused from his stupor, wept with pain.
When they finally arrived at Uji, they were told that Tadazanй had fled to Nara. Then began Yorinaga's slow progress in a wooden litter to the Kofukuji Temple in Nara, where he arrived on the night of July 14. The groves of Kasuga Shrine and Sarusawa Pond were wrapped in mist. Not a single light shone from the monasteries round about.
The two courtiers who attended Yorinaga knocked on the gates of the Kofukuji Temple. Answering calls were heard inside, and some warriors and a priest, fully armed, appeared. After a whispered colloquy Toshinari alone was conducted within. Yorinaga's father was still awake and soon appeared. Toshinari quickly told him what had happened and of how Yorinaga had been brought here. But reports of Yorinaga's ignominious defeat had already reached Tadazanй. Except for the slight tremor of his white-bearded chin he betrayed no emotion, no sign that he welcomed this son whom he loved so blindly.
At last he said: "Alas, Toshinari, to think that your master has come to such an end! There is no use in our meeting in these unhappy circumstances. Toshinari, I say to you, take him away where no one will see or hear him."
As he finished speaking, Tadazanй's thin frame was convulsed with weeping. By sheltering his son he would bring Yorinaga's wife, his children, and his relatives under a ban that would lead to certain death.
Toshinari withdrew from the house in deep dejection. The litter still stood where he had left it in the obscuring mist. He stooped to the moaning Yorinaga and quietly recounted his talk with Tadazanй.
"What!—my father?"
The litter lurched as Yorinaga struggled to a sitting position. There were a few muffled words, then a guttural sound. The litter gave another lurch, and a hollow silence followed. Toshinari and his companion called to Yorinaga, but there was no reply. When they looked in they found him dead. He had bitten off his tongue. Fearing discovery, the two carried the litter while it was still dark down Nara Hill and out into a field where they dug a pit into which they lowered the litter with Yorinaga in it. And before filling in the grave, Toshinari cut off his topknot and threw it in after the dead man to signify that he had renounced the world. Several of his companions followed his example, and then they took leave of each other and went their separate ways.
The capital quickly resumed its customary activities, though the relentless hunt for traitors continued unabated. Travelers, ignorant of recent events, arriving by any of the seven main approaches to Kyoto, were alarmed to find the barriers heavily guarded and the city under martial law. As soon as it was known that Sutoku had taken the tonsure and that Yorinaga had died of his wound, certain rumors began to circulate throughout the capital with a curious persistence. It was said that all who gave themselves up at once to the authorities would be regarded as unwilling participants in the revolt and pardoned; that the other leaders would receive light sentences. These promises, issuing from an unknown source and unconfirmed by any official proclamation, lured many courtiers and high officials out of hiding. Soldiers as well as others of Yorinaga's following surrendered daily by the score and were thrown into jail, whence the cries of prisoners put to the torture by fire and water escaped over the high walls.
Korekata, Captain of the Bodyguard of the Right, was appointed chief judge and presided at the trials, for which voluminous records had been compiled. Many a courtier and officer grew pale when the evidence produced in court not only convicted rebels, but in retrospect cast suspicion on those who had connived at the death of Konoyй, the boy-Emperor.
It was now clear that the intelligence deftly guiding and shaping state affairs was Councilor Shinzei, the exemplary, taciturn official, who for so many years had effaced himself and escaped Yorinaga's eye, and emerged at long last in a position close to the throne. It was Shinzei who ordered the unrelenting search for traitors; to him could have been traced the rumors of amnesty; and when the time came for drawing up a list of honors, Shinzei was deferred to in the naming of recipients.
To Yoshitomo had fallen, many said, the most coveted prize of all, the post of Master of the Imperial Stables—an unheard-of honor for a warrior; there were others, however, who believed that Kiyomori had acquired the more significant honor: the governorship of the province of Harima and the title Lord Harima, for the domain facing on the Inland Sea had once been his father's and many of the Heike had settled there. That a tacit understanding might exist between Shinzei and Kiyomori occurred to a few who were aware of the close friendship between them. Shinzei, they knew, courted the good will of the warriors as much as Kiyomori ardently sought a powerful friend at Court for the Heike.