The Heike Story (44 page)

"Very well," he ordered, "expose the heads at the East Gate. Proclaim to the public the names of all Genji and Heike who have been beheaded."

Turning their backs on the cheering soldiers, Nobuyori and Yoshitomo and their mounted soldiers continued on their way, turning sharply west on the avenue running south of the academy. It was two o'clock in the morning. The fire still raged, and a violent wind tossed up burning fragments, whirling them in all directions in a demonic dance.

Korekata and Nobuyori, whose agents told them that Shinzei and his sons were spending the night at the Cloister Palace, ordered it to be burned to the ground. But when it was known that Shinzei was not with his sons, Korekata immediately ordered his soldiers to surround the Councilor's residence and set fire to it, sparing no one who attempted to escape. At daybreak, the soldiers raked in vain among the ashes for traces of Shinzei's body.

When dawn broke on the 10th, the capital still lay in the clutches of fear. Houses and shops remained shuttered, and only straggling groups of soldiers with blackened, bloodstained faces roamed the streets. At the gate of Fifth Avenue, however, the Nose's shop was open as usual for business.

Bamboku had spent the entire night on his rooftop watching the conflagration. At the sight of the buildings going up in flames and smoke, he had groaned: "A shameful waste—those flames are pure gold!"

The merchant's soul sighed at the spectacle of so much wealth reduced to ashes.

"Whatever happens, the Vice-Councilor, it seems, is now in power. Amazing, indeed—indeed! With Shinzei gone, this naturally would happen."

Perched like a vulture on his roof, the Nose watched the fires subside, then turned over in his mind the business for the following day. No fear or misgivings entered his mind. His restless brain churned and revolved.

"How will Lord Kiyomori of Harima receive all this? With him away, Rokuhara is helpless."

Bamboku turned his head in the direction of Rokuhara on the farther bank. He saw no stirring of life there. He pictured to himself what its denizens must feel, and exulted: "After all, I am a merchant—oh, happy fate, that I was born to this!"

Then he clambered down to the ground, calling out in a voice that trembled with emotion: "Woman, wake Shika! . . . You say he's up? Well, then the menservants. Tell them to get out the handcarts and wait by the warehouses."

In his overwrought state the Nose forgot that his spouse was of no mean birth and bawled for her as for any common wife. He was soon busily carrying jug after jug of wine—more than a dozen—from his storehouse, loading them onto three carts.

"See that you deliver these to their excellencies Nobuyori and Yoshitomo. Tell them these are but tokens of my felicitations. Say that I will call in person on the Councilor Tsunemunй this afternoon," the Nose instructed Shika.

The servants hung back. It was still too dangerous to go through the capital with such loaded carts, they protested stubbornly.

The Nose quickly reassured them. "Nonsense! Were you servants to the warriors, you would last night have been dodging swords and arrows to save your skins! Do you think that those warriors and their households ever get enough to fill their bellies? How do you expect to become merchants in your own right without going through with this?"

After seeing the men safely out on the dim streets, the Nose turned back to his house and a steaming breakfast, then crept to bed and was soon sound asleep.

Nobuyori, the Vice-Councilor, and Korekata of the Police Commission lost no time installing themselves at Court and issuing proclamations in the name of the Emperor.

It was now the 12th of December and nothing had been heard of Shinzei, who had fled from the capital on horseback when his agents gave him warning, shortly before the outbreak on the night of the 10th. There had been no time for him to warn his wife, Lady Kii, or his sons at the Cloister Palace. Shinzei made his way through the dark, along the Uji Road toward one of his manors. Five retainers straggled after him blindly. Toward noon of the 13th, one of Shinzei's retainers who succeeded in escaping from the capital came upon one of his fellow housemen in the hills near Uji.

"Where is our master? Is he safe?" he asked.

The other hesitated and, thinking it wiser to tell him very little, simply assured him that Shinzei was safe, and in his turn eagerly plied him with questions about what had happened in the capital. When he had got as much news as he could, he urged the other retainer to return to Kyoto.

When the retainer finally overtook his master, he recounted all he had heard. Shinzei turned gray with fear and, while they were still speaking, the other retainers, who had gone out to reconnoiter, returned with the news that a company of seventy mounted warriors were approaching.

Shinzei's eyes gleamed like those of a trapped beast. He saw no hope of reaching his own domain now and groaned. Then he turned to his five retainers.

"I have a plan. There's a farmhouse behind this temple. Find some spades and dig a hole there—beyond that bamboo thicket. . . . Hurry!—a hole!"

The housemen feverishly turned up the frozen soil until they had a pit large enough for Shinzei to sit in cross-legged. Shinzei lowered himself into it and ordered the men to pack leaves and branches around him until he was buried up to the neck.

"Now throw in the dirt," he cried, placing a hollow length of bamboo between his lips, "until my shoulders are covered. Cover my head with that bamboo hat and lightly pile on more earth, so that the top of my head is level with the ground. Pull out the wadding from your clothes and gently stop up my ears and nose; then cover up the traces of your work with more leaves. See that nothing chokes this stem through which I shall breathe. Leave me here until tomorrow and come back as soon as it is safe."

Their task completed, Shinzei's retainers fled the spot.

On the following afternoon two of the five retainers stole back and were aghast to find a yawning hole with a corpse in it. Some peasants who came by told them that several soldiers, with a woodcutter as their guide, had come here on the previous evening, unearthed Shinzei, beheaded him then and there, and left after they had thrown the headless corpse back into the pit.

On the day that Shinzei met his death—the 13th of December—a courier from Rokuhara caught up with Kiyomori at Kiribe.

On the 14th, when the news of Shinzei's capture and beheading reached the capital, a proclamation was made, announcing that Shinzei's head would be paraded along the main avenues of the capital and later be displayed in a public place.

High and low alike trooped to see the grisly spectacle. As the head passed before Nobuyori, Korekata, and Yoshitomo in their carriages, a spectator among the crowds was heard to say that he saw the grim emblem nod twice in the direction of the three men. And this strange tale passed swiftly from mouth to mouth among the credulous masses.

Of Shinzei's household, nineteen, including his sons, were captured and beheaded on the banks of the river where so many had died not too long before on Shinzei's orders, and Shinzei's head was set up in a certain tree on the west side of the capital, where all might see the ironic fate of the man who revived the death penalty.

Before the week was over, the usurpers had divided among themselves some of the most envied offices of state, and in self-issued decrees proclaimed themselves the rulers. Nobuyori took to himself the long-coveted title of General of the Imperial Guards and the post of a minister. Korekata, Tsunemunй, and the others each named himself to the post he most coveted, and to Yoshitomo of the Genji was given the province of Harima. Yorimasa of the Genji, however, pleading that his injuries kept him at home, failed to appear at the banquet celebrating the triumph of the conspirators.

All thought of the imprisoned Emperor and Goshirakawa, meanwhile, was forgotten. But while the feasting went on, a court secretary came to Yoshitomo with a message:

"Sir, your son has just arrived from Kamakura. He is waiting in one of the anterooms."

Yoshitomo's face lighted up. "He has?"

Nobuyori had turned red under the powder that covered his face. He had been drinking all evening. Overhearing the secretary, he leaned toward Yoshitomo, who was seated near him. "Master of the Imperial Stables, who is this that has just arrived from Kamakura?"

"My eldest son, Yoshihira. He was sent east as a boy to get his training. He has a bad name for having killed his uncle in a quarrel. A rascal, to be sure, but he seems to have heard of the disturbances here and has come to offer assistance. I am proud of him for that. They say that the more troublesome a child is, the more his parents love him."

"How long is it since you last saw him?"

"I hardly remember how many years it is."

"How old is he?"

"Nineteen."

"He must have ridden day and night without stopping to get here from Kamakura. You surely want to see each other without losing a moment. Tell him to come here."

Yoshitomo inclined his head. "If it pleases you, sir."

"I'd like to see Yoshihira for myself."

The secretary led in the young man, and the entire company turned expectantly. But a look of disappointment came over their faces, for, his reputation notwithstanding, Yoshihira appeared to be a quite ordinary youth of rather small build. He wore armor suitable for a young warrior. The purple silk cords of his cap were knotted under his chin, enhancing the healthy glow of his young cheeks and lending a certain fineness to his robust looks. His cap was a new one hastily worn for the occasion.

Nobuyori looked down at the young man.

"Yoshihira of the Genji, you bring us good luck. You come on a day of rejoicing," he said. "You, too, must soon prove yourself in battle, and by your prowess win yourself a court post. All these you see around me have distinguished themselves in these last four days and are now being showered with well-deserved praise and honors. Here—wine for Yoshihira."

Yoshihira bowed low in greeting, then sat erect, staring openly at the courtiers ranged in the seats of honor as though he had never before seen such a curious sight. An attendant presented him with a cup of wine. Yoshihira finished it in one draught. His cup was refilled and he again drained it, but said nothing. The glow in his tanned face bespoke a kind of innocence rarely seen in youths in the capital. The clear, straightforward gaze was without guile.

"You drink well, Yoshihira. You enjoy it?"

"I do."

"And—love?"

"Of that I know nothing."

"What brings you to the Capital? To win yourself a name?"

"That is for the future. I came when I heard my father was in need, and what son would not do the same?"

The quick, direct answers seemed to amuse Nobuyori.

"Spoken like an easterner!" He laughed, showing his dyed teeth. Yoshihira frowned slightly with distaste at the sight of the blackened teeth in the painted face.

"You don't boast, yet you act like a man, Yoshihira. Come, you must follow your father's example and win the privilege of taking your place among us. I'll see to it that you do."

A look of scorn hovered under Yoshihira's smile. The courtiers, he thought, still treated the warriors as though they were watchdogs. Here he was being trifled with with a tidbit as though he were a whelp.

"What makes you smile, Yoshihira?" Nobuyori queried. "Are you not interested in coming up in the ranks?"

Yoshihira shook his head. "No. I was thinking of my uncle and what he did during the Hogen War."

"The Hogen War? Your uncle?"

"Tametomo of the Genji is my uncle. He refused a court post from the Minister of the Left when the fighting started, and rode into the thick of battle. ... I was merely thinking of that."

Nobuyori frowned. He sensed that he had offended this youth. The courtiers glared at Yoshihira; Yoshitomo suppressed an exclamation of approval. The arrival of a dispatch for Nobuyori fortunately broke the uncomfortable silence that fell on the company. A courier had returned with a report of Kiyomori's whereabouts.

With Shinzei dead, only Kiyomori needed to be dealt with, and there was little to fear from Rokuhara, where Kiyomori's brother and brother-in-law were in command. There were rumors that they too had fled with the women and children, and a single order from Nobuyori to his troops would have confirmed this, but Nobuyori and his fellow usurpers were content to wait until they were certain of Kiyomori's next move. They were sure that Kiyomori's fate was sealed; he would not dare strike a blow at them. There was nothing he could do now but surrender. A few, however, ventured to think that Kiyomori might be audacious enough to challenge them in a last desperate fight.