Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
"I was in Yamato. As for my children, I can only say that I am no different from other mothers who instinctively cling to their children."
"What brought you back to the capital?"
"Reports of my mother."
"Your uncle came here, you know."
"I did not know that my uncle was here before me. I came here intending to deliver myself up to you."
"As I thought. You are mad to come back as you've done."
Kiyomori fell silent and stared at the young mother and her children; then he suddenly asked: "Are you able to nurse him?"
Tokiwa gazed down at the infant in her arms, but made no reply beyond an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
"Not too well. No, I should think not," Kiyomori said to himself with an abstracted look. "Mothers are such foolish creatures. They pretend there is food where there is none; what little there is they give to their husbands and children while their babies wail for the breast. . . . And you who have fled over hills and plains —it's a miracle that the baby lives at all."
"Tokiwa, you have nothing to fear. The war was between Yoshitomo and me. You are innocent."
"Yes."
"A pity, too, that a man like Yoshitomo should have become discontented and been led astray by those young courtiers to his own undoing. He misjudged me, too."
Tokiwa broke down and wept uncontrollably.
"My lord—my lord—" she began.
Kiyomori's eyes strayed over the face lifted to him and came to rest on the thick lashes, heavy with tears, and his heart was suddenly shot through with pity.
"Tokiwa, you need not weep so. You had nothing to do with this war. Your mother shall be set free, since you have given yourself up to us. Wipe away those tears, Tokiwa, you too shall go free."
Tokiwa suddenly cried out: "No—no, I am not asking you to spare me. But have mercy upon these, my children!"
"What?"
"Spare these children, my lord; let me die in their stead!"
At this, Kiyomori's face suddenly grew hard with anger and he roared:
"Woman, take care what you say! You have that evil habit of all women—of wanting to play on my sympathies. You may not be a Genji, but there's no doubt about those children of yours, in whom the blood of the Genji runs. Them I will not and cannot spare!"
Kiyomori, who had risen to his feet in anger, seated himself once more, but his eyes shifted furtively over the prostrate figure before him.
"So you, too, like Yoshitomo of the Genji, misjudge me. The word 'mercy' is hateful to me. I am utterly merciless. Itogo! Tokitada!"
Itogo and Tokitada came forward.
"Take away this woman and her children. The trial is over."
Without waiting for his attendants, Kiyomori hurriedly left the room and vanished into one of the inner apartments.
Less than a fortnight later Kiyomori relented as he invariably did with his near kin or the weak. Overcome by his stepmother's pleadings, he ordered Yoritomo's death sentence suspended. A messenger was sent to Shigemori, to whom Kiyomori said:
"Shigemori, I've given this matter some thought."
"And what have you decided, Father?"
"After all that your grandmother has said, Shigemori, I've decided to spare Yoritomo."
"Then?"
"He's to be banished. To the most distant spot possible."
"My grandmother will be overjoyed to hear this, and people will praise you for being a dutiful son."
"Nothing of the kind. I make no claim to being filial, but I am a father myself and hesitate to put another man's son to death."
"Yes, Shinzei is one example of a man who ruthlessly killed off his enemies, saw his own sons put to the sword in turn, and then was killed himself."
"Enough of your sermons. I don't pretend to be noble. It's only human to feel as I do about a mere child like Yoritomo. It would be unwise too at this time to have him executed, to earn the hatred of people at large. You go and tell your grandmother what I have decided about Yoritomo."
When the 13th of February drew near, no official orders regarding Yoritomo were issued. Kiyomori preserved a noncommittal silence, and the date went by unnoticed. It was not until a month or so later that a decree was published ordering Yoritomo banished to Izu, in eastern Japan; he was to depart on the 20th of March.
As for Tokiwa and her children, the Capital was astounded several days later by the news that Kiyomori had pardoned them. There were some who even sought out Kiyomori and questioned the wisdom of his doing so, and to such he only replied that he was carrying out the orders of a higher authority. Then it soon began to be said that Kiyomori's assurances were little more than transparent excuses, for gossip reported that Kiyomori's carriage waited night after night outside the house where Tokiwa was still kept a prisoner.
EXILE
The blossoms were still wrapped in darkness when a company of soldiers and a few officials began assembling on the avenue of cherry trees along the walls of Ariko's residence. In the courtyard, too, the flowering boughs rose overhead like a blur of clouds. The entire household seemed to be up already, for lights glimmered between the curtain of blossoms as unseen figures hurried back and forth along the open galleries. "Did you sleep well last night?"
It was the morning of the 20th of March, the day on which Yoritomo was to set out for his prison-house in Izu.
Munekiyo had risen early and come to help Yoritomo prepare for the journey.
"Yes, I did sleep, but I was so excited and happy that I woke very early this morning; and when I lifted the shutters myself, I found the moon still shining."
"That must have been around midnight. You will have to take care that you don't fall asleep in the saddle again."
"Oh no, Munekiyo, it won't matter if I do so this time."
"Why is that?"
"My guards will see to it that I'm not left behind."
Munekiyo laughed heartily at Yoritomo's high spirits; his rapture was like that of the caged bird set free, and his gaiety so contagious that Munekiyo could not but feel that this day with its festive blossoms was an occasion for joy. A servant soon arrived to conduct Yoritomo to his morning bath. Yoritomo was back soon, his face shining and his cheeks glowing like rosy fruit. He wore the new suit of clothing which Ariko had given him.
"Before starting I should like once more to thank Lady Ariko and say farewell.
"Yes, Lady Ariko, too, expects you. I'm to take you to her as soon as you finish your breakfast."
Yoritomo quickly sat down to his meal.
"Munekiyo, this is my last meal here, isn't it?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry that it is so."
"And I, too, Munekiyo," Yoritomo said, turning to his jailer, "I shan't forget how kind you have been."
Munekiyo made a clucking sound. "I did nothing—only my duty. You must not expect to meet with kindness everywhere. If there is anyone that you particularly wish to have accompany you, I shall ask for you."
"No, there is no one that I can think of. There may be, but he would be afraid to show himself here."
"True enough. Now if you are ready, we shall go to see Lady Ariko."
Yoritomo was led from the small room where he had been confined for a hundred days and taken to Ariko's residence, a small house, exquisitely and richly appointed in the manner of a small chapel. Yoritomo had only the evening before taken supper with her here and been presented with new clothes and all the small necessities for his journey. In addition to the satisfaction she derived from performing what her religion taught was an act of mercy, Ariko had drawn deep comfort from seeing the boy who reminded her so much of her dead son, and on parting had asked Yoritomo if there was some last thing she might give him. Yoritomo had shyly replied: "I should so like to have a dice-game—something to play with if I ever feel lonely when I am in Izu."
Ariko unfortunately did not have one to give him just then, but she had one ready for him by the following morning, and eagerly waited for Yoritomo to appear.
"Madam, I have come to say good-by," said Yoritomo, bowing low to Ariko, whose eyes were brimming. "And when I am in faraway Izu, I shall never forget that it was you who saved my life. I pray morning and night for your happiness, madam."
"So you are leaving. I had nothing to do with saving your life; you owe it all to the blessed Buddha. . . . Remember my words to you last night, Yoritomo, that you are to renounce the way of the warrior, the calling of bloodshed."
"Yes."
"No matter how great the temptation, turn away your ear from the whisperings of evil men. . . . Let your life be consecrated to prayer in memory of your dead mother and father."
"Yes."
"Remember my words even when you are grown to manhood. Let no one draw you into a reckless plot for revenge, lest you be imprisoned again. And never forget that my prayers go with you."
"Yes . . . yes."
"You are a good child. . . . Here is the dice-game I promised you. Does this please you?"
Ariko produced a black lacquer box richly ornamented with a pattern in powdered gold.
"Oh, what a beautiful box! May I open it now?"
Ariko smiled. "I doubt that you have time for that now. Does he, Munekiyo?"
"I'm afraid not. Your boxes are now being loaded on the pack-horses and I'd better put this with the rest, so it won't get broken."
"That is best. ... It is more important that you go now and meet some people who came to me asking for leave to say farewell. They are waiting in the servants' quarters."
"Oh, for me?"
Yoritomo drew in his breath sharply. Sadness filled him and a nameless ache; he could not guess who these people might be.
". . . Oh!"
The three who waited for Yoritomo turned to him with streaming eyes. One was his maternal uncle, Sukenori, who had refused to take sides in the fighting; the second was Moriyasu of the Genji, whom illness had detained in a distant province until the war was over. The third was Yoritomo's old nurse, who had tended him from his infancy, and she knelt before him weeping.
"My young master, let me today for the last time bind up your hair," she said, and, rising, came and stood behind him. While she combed his hair, she leaned forward long enough to whisper: "This is a sad moment for you, but this is not the last time we shall meet, for your old nurse will not fail to come to you in Izu."
Then the other two also came up close to him while the guard's back was turned and spoke quickly to Yoritomo in low tones: "The gods have saved you by a miracle. Let no man ever persuade you to shave your head and take the vows."
And while his nurse arranged his hair, Yoritomo quietly gazed up at the ceiling, feigning not to hear, but signifying by a slight movement of his brows that he understood and assented.
"It's time to start," an official announced as he left his bench to mount his horse. Beckoning to the attendants, he ordered: "Ready—ready now for the start!"
The pack-horses were led out on the road, while a number of lower officials with bamboo staves motioned back a crowd that was already beginning to gather at the scene. The guards who were accompanying Yoritomo filed out by the gate, leading Yoritomo's horse, and called: "Time to start! Make haste, please!"
Very soon the youthful prisoner appeared at the gate accompanied by members of Ariko's household. This was not the usual exile people were accustomed to see—a gaunt, tear-sodden prisoner—but a gay figure, radiant with youth, who sprang lightly to his saddle.
"Farewell," Yoritomo cried, smiling and inclining his head toward the house.
Ariko and her son Yorimori were among those assembled to see Yoritomo off. "Yoritomo, your health for many a day to come!" "Yoritomo, farewell!" they cried to this boy who already exercised the mysterious power of drawing to himself the devotion of those who came to know him. Yoritomo's eyes, however, were now turned away from them and directed toward a figure beside the gate.
"Munekiyo, farewell." He saluted, inclining his head.