Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
"Father, there's no way to live in this capital except by ignoring the slander. Just laugh at the fools."
"Heita! Back already?"
"I saw you leave the Palace and followed you, since I'm not on duty tonight."
"Heita, never show your resentment."
"No, but I'm waiting for my revenge, and I haven't forgotten your words about starting a new life. We are much happier here at home now."
"I'm afraid you've been lonely since your mother left."
"Remember, Father, we promised not to talk of that. . . . Now about that colt—"
"Hmm—a fine horse. Better exercise him morning and evening."
"I have that in mind. To tell you the truth, Wataru of the Genji who is with me in the Guards, tells me he wants to train the colt. He's been begging me to ask you to obtain his majesty's consent, for he wants to ride that colt in the Kamo races."
Tadamori thought for a moment and then said: "Wataru— but don't you want to ride him yourself? You, rather than Wataru?"
"Those four white fetlocks—if it were not for them—-" Kiyomori hesitated, drawing his thick brows into a nervous frown that startled his father. Tadamori was surprised by the discovery that this careless son of his had ideas of his own.
"I'm sure Wataru can be trusted. I can't say how his majesty will feel about this, but I shall ask—that is, if you still have no intention of riding the colt yourself," Tadamori said, a little disappointed. Calling some retainers, he gave them directions for the feeding and grooming of the four-year-old, and shortly after went to his rooms, now empty of his wife and her reproaches. Resting in the lamplight, he called his young sons to him and played with them, as had now become his habit.
Several days later Tadamori told Wataru himself of the ex-Emperor's consent, and later instructed Kiyomori to take the colt to Wataru's home. Leading the horse by its reins, Kiyomori started on his way to Iris Lane on Ninth Avenue. Passers-by turned to remark: "A magnificent horse—for the Court or the Palace?" But Kiyomori spoke to no one, glad to be rid of an ill-omened horse.
Wataru was expecting Kiyomori and was cleaning out the stable when his friend arrived. He was beside himself with joy.
"It's almost dark. I'm sorry my wife hasn't returned yet, but you must stay and drink with me. This is an occasion to celebrate. We shall drink to it in imperial wine!"
Kiyomori stayed until the lamps were lit and the wine made him tingle to his fingertips. Looking round, he found himself comparing his surroundings with his own home, and noted that the house had little in the way of furnishings, but was exquisitely clean. The polished beams gave out a dark gleam; comfort pervaded the air; a sheen lay over everything—undoubtedly the industry of the young wife whom Wataru had married at the end of the past year. Kiyomori was envious. He listened to Wataru and his praises of his wife. When he finally left, Wataru accompanied him to the gate, one like that of any other warrior's house with its thatched roof and wattled-clay wall, and there came face to face with Wataru's wife. On seeing the departing guest, she quickly drew off her outer cloak and bowed. Kiyomori was conscious of the scent in her hair and sleeves. With difficulty he stammered out his greetings as Wataru presented his wife.
"You're back just in time. Heita, this is my wife, Kesa-Gozen, who once served at Court," Wataru said eagerly, stopping to tell her of the black colt in the stable.
Although this was his friend's wife, Kiyomori felt shy and awkward. Aware of his flushed cheeks, he unsteadily resumed his way along the now dark Iris Lane. Kesa-Gozen's face haunted him. Was it possible that so lovely a woman really existed? Her image hovered before him as he walked on. A new star had bloomed for him in the spring skies above him. . . . Then an arm suddenly reached round and gripped him silently. A highwayman! People talked about being attacked at this crossroad at night! Kiyomori's hand slid to his sword.
"Don't be alarmed, Heita. Come with me to the house we visited that other night." There was a low laugh at Kiyomori's ear. It was Morito. Kiyomori could hardly believe his ears. What was Morito doing in this deserted quarter of Kyoto, his face muffled up like a brigand's?
"Surely, you'll come along to that house on Sixth Avenue?" Morito persisted. Kiyomori's thoughts leaped at the proposal, but a sudden distrust of this fellow made him hesitate.
"Come, I saw you this evening on your way to Wataru's, and I followed you," Morito added, as he began to lead the way. His suspicions allayed, Kiyomori followed him, drawn by something compelling in Morito, and soon felt that good luck had waylaid him.
In the house of call near the Palace they drank recklessly, and caroused as they had done that other night. When he was alone at last with one of the women, Kiyomori, a little bolder than at his last visit, ventured to ask:
"Where is my friend? Where does he sleep?"
The woman tittered. "He never spends his nights here."
"Has he gone home then?"
The woman appeared sleepy and too tired to reply. "He's always like that. How should I know what he does?" she said, flinging her arms round Kiyomori's neck.
Kiyomori struggled free. "I'm leaving, too! That Morito is playing some trick on me!"
Kiyomori quickly left the house, but the gentle ghost of Iris Lane no longer walked with him.
The following day Morito did not report for duty at the Guards, nor did he appear for several days, and Kiyomori brooded over this. Now, whenever he arrived at the Palace, it was Kesa-Gozen's husband, Wataru, who always greeted him eagerly whenever they met in the Palace corridors, and with a look that bespoke his happiness.
At the servants' gate of the Nakamikado mansion on Sixth Avenue, a cluster of women peddlers, balancing baskets or boxes of silk cords, flowers, and cakes on their heads, peered into the premises laughing and chattering noisily.
"We want nothing, nothing today, you wenches!"
"Come, buy some cakes for the May Festival!"
"We're too busy with work for the feast tonight. We're dizzy with work! Come tonight, tonight. . . ."
"You fools! You vulgar slaves!" the peddlers jeered.
A steward suddenly appeared at a door, bawling and scolding at the backs of the under-servants. "Here, here! Enough of that chaffing with those women! Who has charge of the bathhouse today? The lady's impatient. The steam in the bath isn't hot enough!"
At the sound of the bellowing, two menservants separated themselves from the group and fled toward the east wing. The fire for the bath had turned to ashes. They scurried about in great agitation, gathering twigs and faggots to start the fire.
One of Yasuko's maids appeared on the veranda; wrinkling her nose and blinking at the smoke, she called out: "Here, what are you doing there! You careless slaves, what if my lady takes cold?"
The bathhouse with its low ceiling and latticed floor was quite dark. The naked bodies of the two women gleamed through the steam, dripping with perspiration.
"Ruriko, what lovely little breasts—like small cherries!"
"You embarrass me, aunt, don't stare at me so."
"I couldn't help thinking of the days when my skin was fair like yours," Yasuko mused.
"But you're so lovely even now."
"Yes?—" said Yasuko, looking long at her own breasts.
Ruriko's words were not all flattery, but Yasuko, cupping her breasts in her hands, felt that they had lost their firmness. The tips were stained dark like the seeds of an apricot. She had borne four sons and realized that the springs of her youthfulness were running dry. She stared at the small white scars on one breast where Kiyomori in a fit of temper had bitten her when he was two or three years old.
Anger suddenly welled up in her at the thought of Kiyomori, who had struck her so cruelly—and with a retainer there! Had he not once nursed at these breasts? Was this how sons treated their mother? Were this so, then how unrewarding to be a mother! He seemed to think that he had grown to manhood without her care! Resentment filled Yasuko as she sat there motionless, her fingers curled round her breasts.
Ruriko soon left the bathhouse. She was the niece of the mistress of the mansion. It was customary for young girls to be given in marriage by the time they were thirteen or fourteen, but Ruriko, who looked more than her sixteen years, was not even affianced. Rumors were that her father, Fujiwara Tamenari, a governor in one of the provinces, was too occupied with his duties to arrange a match. It was also said, however, that he had often disobeyed the orders of the central government, and at the request of the Minister of the Left, a relative who considered his dissident cousin dangerous, had been assigned to a distant post.
Ruriko herself seemed unconcerned about her unmarried state and found that the days passed pleasantly enough. Ever since Yasuko arrived and took possession of the apartments of the east wing, Ruriko spent most of her time there, leaving her own rooms in the west wing unoccupied. She often spent the night in the east wing or took her baths with Yasuko, who passed her time gossiping with the young girl, initiating her in the use of cosmetics, airing her views on love affairs, or instructing her in the secrets of appraising men. Ruriko soon came to admire the older woman and became warmly attached to her.
The master of this mansion was one Iyenari, a good-natured nobleman in his fifties, who, on retiring from a government post, indulged a passion for cockfighting. Being childless, he had considered adopting his wife's niece, Ruriko, but a most disconcerting situation had arisen in February—Yasuko's unexpected arrival. He sounded her out on her plans for departure, but Yasuko expressed no intention of returning to Imadegawa. He appealed to her maternal feelings by reminding her of her four children, but Yasuko appeared quite indifferent to them. To shake her self-confidence he hinted that though she was still enchanting at thirty-eight, she could hardly expect to remarry. But Yasuko was deaf to such insinuations and behaved as though she had returned to the parental roof permanently. She took possession of the best rooms in the house, ordered baths in the morning, spent long hours over her toilette in the evening, and proceeded to realize for herself her notions of a high-born lady's life.
She never hesitated to use the carriages whenever she wished, ordered the servants about at her whim, while they gossiped slyly in the servants' quarters about the strange men who visited her apartments at night. If Iyenari was so tactless as to express his displeasure at her conduct, Yasuko flew into a rage, forcing him to take back his words, and assumed the haughty airs of a royal mistress, never letting Iyenari forget that she had once been the late Emperor's favorite and arrogantly telling him to hold his tongue.
Iyenari had had his fill of such reminders. He ceased to remind Yasuko of the past, when she was Ruriko's age and he had arranged the liaison between her and the amorous Emperor, for she remembered too well that the monarch in return had seen to Iyenari's promotion at Court, had rewarded him generously with additional acres to his manor, and lavished many other gifts on him. Yasuko had long looked upon Iyenari's wealth as in part her own, and even after her marriage to Tadamori often came to the Nakamikado to demand whatever she wished.
A misfortune of his own making had returned to plague Iyenari. Lately his palate for pleasure had become dulled. Yasuko, on the other hand, was full of gaiety as an unending stream of visitors came to call on her in the east wing, stayed to play dice-games, burned incense, and practiced on various musical instruments. Even Iyenari's old friend at cockfights deserted him for Yasuko and was now one of her intimates.
Iyenari's mansion, like the fashionable dwellings of other aristocrats, was a spacious building with an east and a west wing. A long, covered gallery, running the entire length of the main house, connected the two wings, from which roofed passages projected at right angles to form the sides of an inner court. Elegant enclosed pavilions at the end of the passages commanded a full view of the court, its miniature landscape of island, lake, and flowing stream.
Yasuko's influence over Ruriko troubled Iyenari, for the young girl was now a complete captive to the older woman's charms and spent all her time in the east wing—some distance from the family apartments on the opposite side of the court. Iyenari ceaselessly cautioned Ruriko not to spend so much time there, warning her that nothing good would come of these visits. But his authority in his own house had collapsed. He ordered the servants to keep a watch on Ruriko, but in vain, for they now went about in fear of Yasuko.
So this was why even the stout-hearted warrior Tadamori had withered in his youth, Iyenari reflected wryly. This was why Tadamori had been called eccentric; and this was the doubtful legacy that the late Emperor had bequeathed him. Iyenari saw his hair turning gray in the brief space of two months, and marveled at Tadamori, who had endured this burden for twenty years.