The Ten Foot Square Hut and Tales of the Heike Page 19

  Then as they cast about to find some one to take his place, there appeared a priest in black robes, riding a cream-coloured horse which he was whipping up furiously; and as the people round about called out to him: "See the handsome young lord whom Hōjō Dono is just beheading in the pine-wood," and ran thronging to see the sight, he waved his whip at them anxiously, and in his excitement and suspense pulled off his hat and beckoned to them with it.

  Then, as Hōjō stood waiting to see what was the reason, the priest rode up, sprang down from his horse and exclaimed: "The young lord is reprieved; here are instructions from Yoritomo." Hōjō took the document and read: "Concerning Rokudai Gozen, the son of Komatsu-no-sammi Chūjō Koremori, whom you have arrested: he is reprieved at the request of Mongaku, the priest of Takao; let there be no mistake. To Hōjō-no-Shiro Dono. Yoritomo." Hōjō read it through several times, ejaculating: "Marvellous! Marvellous!" and then put it away. Saito Go and Saito Roku, it is unnecessary to say, and even Hōjō's own retainers, shed tears of joy and relief.

  THE EXECUTION OF ROKUDAI

  So Rokudai Gozen grew up thus until he was fourteen or fifteen years old, when he was so beautiful that he shed as it were a radiance all about him. But that his mother should have said in admiration: "If we were in power he would now be an officer of the Imperial Guard," was too outspoken. At a favourable opportunity Yoritomo sent to Mongaku saying: "What kind of youth is Rokudai Gozen, son of the Sammi Chūjō Koremori whom you have in charge? Do you think of him as you did of me formerly, that he is one able to subdue the enemies of the Throne, or avenge his father's shame?" "Do not trouble yourself about him," replied Mongaku, "for he is a spiritless and stupid fellow."

  Still Kamakura Dono was not quite satisfied. "If there were a rebellion that priest would be for it," he remarked ominously; "and though it is not likely in my lifetime, I don't know about my posterity." When this reached his mother's ear she again urged him to become a monk without further delay. So, about the spring of the fifth year of Bun-ji, cutting off his beautiful hair short at the neck, and attired in a robe and hakama of drab colour, with his travelling box on his back, he started out on a pilgrimage; and Saito Go and Saito Roku accompanied their master in similar garb.

  First ascending Mount Kōya, he visited Takiguchi Nyūdō, the virtuous priest who had helped his father to attain Enlightenment and instructed him in the Way, and from him heard all particulars of his father's becoming a monk, and his subsequent death. Then, wishing to retrace his father's steps, he went on to Kumano, and looking across at the island of Yamanari which is in front of the shrine called Hama-no-miya, to which his father had rowed, he greatly desired to cross over to it, but on account of the contrary wind he was not able. As he stood gazing over at it he wondered in what place it was that his father had sunk, and felt as though he wished to ask the white-crested waves that came rolling in on the shore. Regarding the sand of the beach tenderly, as being perchance the bones of his parent, his sleeves were bedraggled with tears, and ever moist like those of the sea-damp garments of the fishermen. Passing all that night on the beach, he spent his time reading the Sutras and repeating the Nembutsu, drawing with his finger the likeness of a Buddha in the sand; and when dawn appeared, summoning a priest, he dedicated all the merit he had acquired to the enlightenment of his father's spirit, and returned to the Capital with his heart full of sadness.

  Now the Emperor at this time was Go-Toba-no-in, and he thought of nothing but pleasure, so that all the affairs of state were in the hands of the mother of the Empress, and people lamented greatly at it. Because the King of Wu loved Chien K'e, those who suffered hurt in the kingdom were not few; and because Hsi Yao captivated the King of Tsu many ladies of the Court died of starvation. And because those of lower rank will always imitate the pleasures of those above them, all those of understanding loudly lamented the danger to the Empire. But the second Imperial Prince Go-Takakura-in was much devoted to statesmanship, and very diligent in intellectual matters, and Mongaku, shrewd priest that he was, was very fond of meddling in the management of affairs, so that he was extremely anxious to set this Prince on the Throne; but while Yoritomo was alive, he did not take any steps.

  Then, on the thirteenth day of the first month of the tenth year of Kenkyu, Yoritomo died at the age of fifty-three, and Mongaku raised a revolt forthwith; but it was immediately discovered, and officers were sent to Nijo Inokuma to arrest Mongaku, who was then more than eighty years of age, and banish him to the province of Oki. As they were leading him away from the Capital he burst out: "What does that Ball-loving Youth mean by letting them take an old man like me, who does not know whether he will live from one day to the next, and send him under Imperial Chastisement to a place like Oki, far away from the Capital. You had better see that some one is sent there to bring me back pretty quickly!"

  And so, dancing with rage and reviling strongly, Mongaku was sent into exile. It was because this Emperor was so fond of playing ball that Mongaku called him by this contemptuous name. It was very strange that afterwards, in the period Shō-kyū, on account of his many rebellions, though there were many other provinces, this Emperor should have also been banished to the far-off isles of Oki. And it is said that the angry ghost of Mongaku wrought many evil things there; continually appearing in the Emperor's Presence, and saying all kinds of things to him.

  Now Rokudai Gozen, who was now styled Sammi-no-Zenji, had continued to live in retirement in the recesses of Takao. "The son of such a man, and the disciple of such a man," quoth Yoritomo, "though he may have shaved his head, is not likely to have shaved his heart." And he sent a petition to the Court that he might be taken and executed, and An-Hōgwan Sukekane arrested him and sent him down to the Eastern Provinces, where Okabe Yasutsuna of the province of Suruga was ordered to take him and behead him at Tagoe-gawa in the province of Sagami. That his life was spared from his thirteenth year to beyond his thirtieth was solely through the mercy of Kwannon of Hase. And with the death of Sammi-no-Zenji there perished the last of the Heike.

  THE FORMER EMPRESS BECOMES A NUN

  The Former Empress Kenrei-mon-in went to Yoshida at the foot of Higashi-yama, and entered the cell of a monk of Nara called Chūnagon-no-Hōin Keiei. It was old and dilapidated, with the garden overgrown with weeds, and hare's-foot fern clustering thickly on the roof. The curtains were gone and the bedchamber exposed, and there was nothing to keep out the wind and rain. Though there were many kinds of flowers, there was none to care for them, and though the moon streamed in every night, no one was there to gaze at it.

  She, who had formerly spent her time in the Jewel Halls and within the Brocade Curtain, now suffered the unspeakable hardships of dwelling in this mouldering cell, bereft of all her old companions, like a fish on the dry land or a bird torn from its nest, and she yearned fondly for the times she had spent tossing on the heaving billows. In the words of the poet Tachibana Chokkan: "She longs for the far-off waves of the ocean, and the clouds of the limitless Western Sea; the moss grows thick on the reed-thatched hut; tears fall as the moon shines in the garden on Higashiyama."

  So on the first day of the fifth month of the first year of Bun-ji, the Former Empress cut short her hair and was instructed in the Way by Ashōbō-no-Shonin Insei of Chōrakuji, and for the customary offering she presented him with the robe of the Emperor Antoku, which he had worn up to the time of his death, so that the perfume yet clung to it. She had brought it with her to the Capital from the far-off Western Provinces, intending to keep it as a memorial of him and never let it leave her person, but now, as she had nothing else to offer, and thinking moreover that it would be an aid to his Enlightenment, weeping bitterly she handed it to him. The monk was so affected that he could utter no word, but pressing the sleeve of his black robe to his face, he retired weeping from the Imperial Presence. And this robe was afterwards woven into a banner and suspended in front of the Buddha of the Chōrakuji.

  This Empress was appointed Imperial Consort at the age of fifteen,
and at sixteen was raised to the rank of Empress. She was ever by the Emperor's side, helping him in the government by day, and the only sharer of his love by night. At the age of twenty-two she bore a Prince who was named as the Heir to the Throne, and when he assumed the Imperial Dignity she became Retired Empress and took the name of Kenrei-mon-in. She was the daughter of the Lay-priest Chancellor Kiyomori, and as she had thus become the mother of the Emperor she was held in great reverence by all the people.

  She was twenty-nine years old this year, and the beauty of her fair face was not yet dimmed, neither was the elegance of her slender form impaired; but what now availed the loveliness of her hair? So she renounced this world and became a nun, but even when she had entered the True Way her grief was not assuaged. Ever she seemed to see before her the figures of the Emperor and the Nii Dono and the others as they sank in the waves, and never in this life could she forget those melancholy scenes, so she wondered why she had remained alive to bear such sorrows, and her tears were never dried.

  Even in the short nights of the fifth month, it was not easy to keep awake, but if she did not fall asleep she did not dream of those who had passed away. Faintly the shadow of her single light fell on the wall outside, and all night the dismal drumming of the rain sounded on the lattice of the windows. Surely the Imperial Consorts who were shut up in the Shang Yang Palace in China were not more wretched. And how did it remind her of the beloved past, this orange-tree in blossom by the eaves, that the former tenant had brought and planted there. As its heavy perfume was wafted into her chamber, and the note of the cuckoo was borne once and again to her ears, this ancient verse came into her mind, and she wrote it on the lid of her inkstone:

  Hark! The cuckoo's call,

  Seeking out the fragrant scent

  Of the orange flowers.

  "Where are those I loved of old?

  Whither have they flown?" he cries.

  The rest of the Court Ladies, who had thrown themselves into the sea, but had not drowned themselves with the same determination as the Nii Dono and the wife of Echizen-no-sammi Michimori, had been roughly dragged out by the Genji soldiers and brought back to the Capital, as has been before related. And these, both young and old, all became nuns and were living in concealment in far-away valleys and dells in the mountains, wretched and emaciated in appearance and quite unrecognizable as their former selves. The places where they lived have gone up in smoke, and the empty site is all that remains. They have all turned into overgrown moorland, and no former intimate ever comes nigh them. All is as unfamiliar as his home to one who is bewitched by fairies and returns to it after seven generations.

  THE FORMER EMPRESS GOES TO OHARA

  Now as her poor abode was ruined in the great earthquake of the ninth day of the seventh month, and its outer wall fell down, the Former Empress had nowhere to live. How had the days altered from when the green-clad Palace Guards stood continually before her gate, for now the tumble-down wall, more bedewed with moisture than the outside moorland, seemed as if it understood the change of times, and resented the incessant shrilling of the insects. So though the nights grew longer and longer, the Empress could not sleep, but brooded continually over her melancholy condition, and this, added to the natural sadness of autumn, became almost too much for her to bear. In this changed world there was none to feel sympathy for her, and all those of her affinity were gone, so that none were left to cherish her in her need.

  Only the wife of Reizei-no-Dainagon Takafusa and the wife of Shichijo-no-Shuri-no-Taiyū Nobutaka used to send and assist her secretly. "Ah," she exclaimed, "in former days who would have ever dreamed that I should have come to accept anything from such as these?" And as she wept afresh at the thought, the ladies who accompanied her could not refrain from moistening their sleeves. Since her present dwelling was too near the Capital, and attracted the eyes of curious passers-by, she thought she would like to go to some place far away in the depths of the mountains to spend her days remote from all sound of unrest, but for some time she was unable to hear of any.

  Then a certain lady came to Yoshida and said to her: "There is a place northward from here, in the mountains of Ohara, called Jakkō-in, and it is very quiet." "A mountain abode is very lonely, it is true," she answered, "but it is good to live in, for it is remote from the troubles of this world." So, as she desired it, the matter was settled, and the wives of Nobutaka and Takafusa sent a palanquin to fetch her.

  Thus at the end of the ninth month she proceeded to the temple of Jakkō-in. As they went along she gazed at the beauty of the autumn tints, while the sun sank gradually behind the mountains. The dreary boom of the evening bell of the wayside temple, and the thick-lying dew on the grass as they passed drew tears from her eyes, while the fierce gale whirled the leaves from the trees in all directions. Suddenly the sky grew dark and the autumn drizzle began to fall; the cry of a deer sounded faintly and the shrilling of the insects was incessant. Nothing was wanting to add to the sum of her afflictions, which seemed indeed such as few had been made to suffer. Even when she was driven about from shore to shore and from island to island her melancholy was not to be compared to this.

  The place she had chosen to dwell in was ancient and surrounded by mossy rocks; the reeds in the garden were now covered with hoar-frost instead of dew. and when she gazed on the faded hue of the withered chrysanthemums by the wall, she could hardly fail to be reminded of her own condition. Entering before the Buddha she prayed: "For the Sacred Spirit of the Emperor, that it may attain perfect Buddhahood, and for the departed spirits of all the Heike, that they may quickly enter the Way of Salvation." But still the image of the late Emperor was impressed on her mind, and wherever she might be, she thought she could never forget it.

  So they built for her a small cell ten feet square beside the Jakkō-in, and in it were two rooms, in one of which she put her shrine of Buddha, and in the other she slept; and there she spent her time continually repeating the Nembutsu and performing the Buddhist services, both by night and by day. And it happened that once, on the fifth day of the tenth month, she heard the sound as of some one treading on the oak leaves which had fallen and covered the garden. "Who can it be," she exclaimed, "that comes to disturb one who has thus renounced the world? Do you go and see; for I will conceal myself if it be anyone I do not wish to meet." So one of the ladies went to look, and it was only a young stag that had passed that way. "Who is it? Who is it?" asked the Empress, whereupon the lady Dainagon-no-suke-no-Tsubone composed these lines in reply:

  Since you thus inquire

  Who it is that strays this way,

  Rustling in the leaves.

  'Tis no human visitor,

  But a stag that haunts the vale.

  And the Empress was so much affected by this verse that she wrote it on the paper of the sliding door.

  And as she thus passed her tedious hours, even in this dreary spot she found many subjects for comparison. The trees that grew by the eaves of her cell she likened to the Seven Precious Trees of Paradise, and the water that collected in the hollows of the rocks she compared to the Lake of the Eight Virtues in the Pure Land. Impermanence is as the flowers of spring that so quickly fall when the wind blows, and Worldly Illusion like the moon of autumn so easily lost behind the clouds. She thought how she had diverted herself with the flowers in the Shōyōden, and how on the day after they had been scattered by the wind, and how in the Chōshuden they had made poems to the moon, and its light had been hidden by the clouds. Formerly she had lived delicately in the Jewel Halls, and couches of brocade had been spread for her in the Golden Palace, but now she dwelt in a hut of brushwood and thatch, and the sleeves of her robe were dishevelled and tear-stained.

  THE HŌ-Ō PROCEEDS TO OHARA

  Thus in the spring of the second year of Bun-ji the Hō-ō expressed a wish to go to Ohara and see the place where Kenrei-mon-in was living in retirement, but the second and third months were stormy and the cold still lingered, neither did the snow melt on
the mountains nor the icicles thaw in the valleys. Thus the spring passed and the summer came, and the festival of Kamo was already over when His Majesty proceeded to the recesses of Ohara. Though the visit was incognito, the Sadaisho Tokudaiji, the Dainagon Kwazan-in and the Gon-Chūnagon Tsuchi-mikado accompanied His Majesty, with six of the higher Courtiers and eight of lower rank, beside several of the Imperial Guards.

  As they went by way of Kurama, His Majesty was able to visit the temple of Fudarakuji, built at Fukayabu at Kiyohara, and the place where the Consort of the Emperor Go-Reizei-in had formerly lived in retirement at Ono, after which the Imperial Palanquin proceeded on its way. The white clouds on the distant mountains reminded them of the cherry-blossoms that had fallen, while the green leaves on the twigs seemed to regret the passing of spring. It was past the twentieth day of the fourth month, so the summer grasses had grown up thickly, and as they parted them on the little-trodden road, His Majesty, who had never been there before, was much affected by the lonely uninhabited look of the place.

  At the foot of the western mountains they came to a small temple. This was the Jakkō-in. It might be well described by the lines: "Its roof-tiles were broken and mist was its only incense; the doors had fallen from their hinges and the beams of the moon were its sanctuary lamps." But the pond and trees of its ancient garden were dignified; the young grass had grown thick, and the slender shoots of the willow were all hanging in confusion, while the floating water-plants on the pond might be mistaken for spread out brocade. On the island the purple hue of the flowering wistaria mingled with the green of the pine-tree, while the late-blooming cherry among the green leaves was more rare than the early blossoms. From the eightfold clouds of the kerria that was flowering in profusion on the bank came the call of the cuckoo, a note of welcome in honour of His Majesty's visit.