The Ten Foot Square Hut and Tales of the Heike Read online

  "So this morning stealing out unperceived, I have come hither as you see, putting away my ordinary dress to become a recluse; thus having changed my condition, I entreat that you will condescend to pardon my former trespass, that together repeating the Nembutsu we may sit on one lotus in Paradise together. But if I cannot attain my desire, I will wander away whither I know not, falling down under some tree or on some mossy bank, and ever zealously repeating the Nembutsu, I will strive to attain rebirth in Paradise."

  So pressing her sleeve to her face she entreated them. Giō answered her, scarce withholding her tears:—"Not even in a dream did I imagine that you would think thus, while I lived according to the custom of this fleeting world. When I thought of the unhappiness of my condition, often I felt resentment at your conduct in spite of myself, thus suffering loss in this life and the next. But as now you have changed your condition, your former faults have passed away like the dew of morning. Now do I feel extreme happiness knowing that you will without doubt attain your desire and be reborn in bliss. If people may say that my having become a nun was a difficult thing, shall I too so consider it? It was because I hated this world and wished to put an end to my life that I did this. But that you, having no resentment or sorrow, and being now but seventeen years old, should thus despise this world and so earnestly set your mind on the Pure Land, thinking only of the Noble Path, what a happy state of virtuous enlightenment is this indeed!"

  So the four of them retired from the world together, morning and evening offering flowers and incense before Buddha's shrine, and with one mind fervently pouring out their petitions; each one sooner or later obtaining her desire for rebirth in bliss. And in the register of the temple Chō-kō-dō built by the Hō-ō Go-Shirakawa the honourable, spirits of the four are found enshrined. Indeed it is a very marvellous thing.

  THE EXILE OF THE HŌ-Ō

  On the twentieth day the forces of the Heike surrounded the Palace of the Hō-ō, and all the ladies-in-waiting and male and female servants, thinking that they would burn the Palace and put all in it to death as Nobuyori had done when he attacked the Sanjo Palace in Heiji, forgetting all but their own safety, fled in wild panic without even waiting to garb themselves. Then the former Udaisho, Munemori-no-Kyo, gave orders to bring the Imperial Car and to make all haste, whereat the Hō-ō, much perturbed, exclaimed: "Am I to be banished to some far country or distant island like Narichika or Shunkwan? I am not aware of having done anything wrong except perhaps that since the Emperor is so young I have occasionally given advice on affairs of state; if however this is not desirable, I will do so no more in future."

  Then Jōken Hōin went to Kiyomori at Nishi-hachijo and urged that, the Hō-ō having gone to the Toba Palace the night before, it was too severe treatment that he should have not a single person in attendance, so he himself wished to go and attend on His Majesty. The Nyūdō replied that as he was a trustworthy priest he might go; whereupon Jōken was exceedingly delighted and immediately hastened to the Toba Palace. Alighting from his car at the entrance, as soon as he entered within the gate, he heard the voice of the Hō-ō chanting the Sutras, and it had indeed a very melancholy sound. When the Hōin hastily entered he saw the Hō-ō sitting and shedding tears upon the Sutra that he was reading, and in his grief at the sight, he too pressed the sleeve of his white costume to his eyes and thus came into his presence weeping. Only the nun was in attendance. "Ah, Hōin," said the Hō-ō, "since you had breakfast yesterday morning in the Hojuji-den neither last night nor this morning have you taken any food. Neither have you slept at all through the night: indeed I fear some danger to your life." The Hōin, controlling his feelings, replied: "Everything in this world has an end; the Heike have held the Empire in their hands for twenty years, but their evil deeds have gone on piling up and verily their end too will come. And surely Tensho-daijin and Sho-Hachimangu will not forget you, while there is also the deity of Hiyoshi on whom you rely, and who will surely vouchsafe his sure protection. The oft-read eight books of the Hokke Sutra will guard you, and then once more the rule will return into your Imperial Power and all the offenders will vanish away like foam on the water." The Hō-ō, on hearing these words was somewhat comforted.

  The Emperor was much grieved at the exile of his Prime Minister and the loss of so many of his high officials, but when he heard of the banishment of the Hō-ō to the Toba Palace, he would take no food, and becoming sick, he entered his august sleeping-apartment and would not come forth. The ladies-in-waiting and the Imperial Consorts were at their wits' end to know what to do. After the Hō-ō had gone to the Toba Palace special worship was held in the Imperial Palace; a dais of mortar* was made in the Seiryōden where the Emperor worshipped Ise-no-Daijingu every night. These prayers were offered for the Hō-ō. The Retired Emperor Nijo was a wise ruler, but since in his opinion an Emperor has neither father nor mother, he was always opposing the Hō-ō and did not carry on the Imperial Line successfully. Therefore his son the Retired Emperor Rokujō, after having ascended the Throne, unfortunately died on the fourteenth day of the seventh month of the third year of Angen at the age of thirteen.

  THE SEINAN DETACHED PALACE

  In a hundred volumes we find the saying. "Filial piety is the most important thing. A wise monarch governs the Empire by filial piety." Therefore we see that in China Yao revered his old and feeble mother and Shun respected his obstinate father. It is very blessed when the Imperial Will follows the example of such wise and pious rulers. About this time the Emperor secretly sent this message to the Hō-ō at the Toba Palace: "In such an age even though one live in the Palace what can one do? Perhaps it is best to retire into the mountains and become a recluse as was done by Uda Tenno in the era of Kwampei and by Kwazan Tenno in former times." To this the Hō-ō replied: "Do not think of such a thing. If you remain as you are, it is one source of reliance for me, but if you depart from the Palace, on what can I rely? At any rate wait and see what my fate will be." The Emperor, on receiving this letter, pressed it to his face and wept unrestrainedly.

  As the sages have said: "The Emperor is the ship; the subjects are the water. The water may make the ship float well, or again the water may overturn the ship. The subjects may protect the Emperor, or again the subjects may overthrow the Emperor."* In Hogen and Heiji the Lay-priest Chancellor protected the Emperor, but now in Angen and Jisho he sets him at naught just as the classic says.

  The Grand Chancellor Omiya, the Naidaijin Sanjo, the Dainagon Hamuro, and the Chūnagon Nakayama were all dead, and Seirai and Shinhan only were left; but these two, thinking it was no use remaining at Court in such an age, even if they became Dainagon, retired from the world and became monks while still young. Mimbu-Kyō Nyūdō Shinhan having the hoar-frosts of Ohara for company, and Saisho Nyūdō Seirai living among the mists of Kōya, both had no thought for anything but attaining enlightenment in the next existence. In ancient days in China too there were men who hid themselves in the clouds of Shang Shan and cleansed their hearts under the moon of Ying Ch'uan, so what wonder was it that these deeply learned and pure-minded men should forsake so troublesome a world?

  When the Saisho Nyūdō among the recesses of Mt Kōya heard that the Emperor also wished to retire from the world, he exclaimed: "Ah, well it was that I have so soon become a recluse; for though to hear of it while here in seclusion is evil enough, how great a grief would it have been to have heard it while in attendance on His Majesty. The revolts of Hogen and Heiji were indeed evil, but now the age has become more degenerate, and such extraordinary things as this have come to pass. What will happen to the Empire in future no one can tell. Would that I could ascend above the clouds or hide myself deep in the farthest mountains." Verily it could not be considered a world in which anyone with any sense would live.

  Now the winter was half over and the Hō-ō was in the Seinan Detached Palace. The wind of Yazan sounded shrilly, and the moon shone bright on the frozen garden. The snow fell and piled up on the courtyard, but no one's footsteps were seen
upon it. The ice thickened on the ponds, but no flocks of birds resorted thither. The boom of the bell of the great temple resounded in his ears like that of Kuei Ai Ssu in China; the white snow on the western hills reminded him of the scene of the peak of Hsiang Lu. In the cold frosty evening the clink of the fuller's mallet was borne faintly to his pillow; while at dawn he was awakened by the slow wheels creaking on the ice outside the gate. The travellers passing along the highway, the sight of the galloping war-horses, the pomp and movement of this fleeting world, how vain it seems to one who understands. The guards before the Palace gates who kept watch day and night, by what connexion in a former existence was it that they were now brought into this relation with him? What an awe-inspiring thought it was. Thus on every side the Hō-ō found things that gave him pain. So during his exile here he could not help occupying his thoughts with the memory of the various excursions and pilgrimages and festivals he had enjoyed, and the recollection of them would bring tears to his eyes. And so things went on and the fourth year of Jisho began.

  Now the second son of the Hō-ō, Prince Mochihito, whose mother was the daughter of Kaga Dainagon Suenari-no-Kyo, was living at the Takakura Palace in Sanjo and so came to be known as Prince Takakura. His Gempuku ceremony had been held secretly when he was fifteen years old, on the fifteenth day of the eleventh month of the first year of Ei-man, at the Omiya Palace at Konoe Kawara. He was known for the elegance of his caligraphy and his brilliant intellect, and might have been Crown Prince and ascended the Throne, but owing to the enmity of the late Empress Ken-shun-mon-in he had to live thus secluded. In springtime he would divert himself by writing poems as he strolled out under the cherry-trees, and in autumn by making exquisite melodies on his flute at the moon-viewing banquets.

  While he was thus spending his days, having then reached the age of thirty, in the fourth year of Jisho, Gensammi Nyūdō Yorimasa, who was then living at Konoe Kawara, came secretly to his Palace one evening and spoke his mind to him boldly, thus: "Does your Highness not think it a very miserable thing that you, who are of direct descent in the forty-eighth age from Tensho-daijin,* and the seventy-eighth generation from Jimmu Tenno, and might become Crown Prince and ascend the Throne, should thus live till the age of thirty in obscurity in this Palace? Quickly raise a revolt and overthrow the Heike!

  "Will it not be a most worthy and filial act to relieve the anxiety of the Retired Emperor, repining at his perpetual confinement in the Toba Palace, and to ascend the Throne yourself as Emperor? If your Highness should deign to consider this plan, and issue a Royal Order for its execution, all the many members of the Genji family who are living in the various provinces will gladly flock to your side.

  "The two warrior families of Gen and Hei, whose only duty is to quell the enemies of the Throne, have till now been equal in power, but at the present time they are wide asunder as Heaven and Earth; indeed it is not too much to say that their relations are those of servant and master. The provinces are oppressed by the Governors and the fiefs are abused by the commissioners; people are harried in all matters and there is no peace.

  "Consider carefully the state of things at present. Outwardly all submit, but inwardly there are none who do not dislike the Heike rule. If therefore Your Highness will agree to issue an Order, the Genji from every province will pour in night and day, and the destruction of the Heike will soon be completed. In that case, though I myself am an old man, I have many young sons and will bring them to fight against the Heike."

  The Prince was greatly perplexed to know what to do, so that for some time he did not consent. There was, however, a certain Shonagon Korenaga, who was famous for his skill in physiognomy, so that people called him "Physiognomy Shonagon," and he came and visited the Prince and told him that by his features he was predestined to ascend the Throne, and that therefore he ought not to abandon the attempt to attain his object. Gensammi Nyūdō* also kept on urging him, and suggesting that the plan was an inspiration of Tensho-daijin herself, so that at last he made up his mind to act.

  Now on the fifteenth evening of the fifth month, as Prince Takakura was gazing at the beauties of the moon in a cloudy sky, with no thought of anything that might happen, a messenger came post-haste from Yorimasa with a letter, which his foster brother Rok-ujo-no-Suke-no-Daiyu Munenobu at once brought to him. It ran thus: "The plot is already revealed, and you are to be banished to Tosa: the officials of the Kebiishi have orders to take you, so leave the Palace quickly and go to Miidera. I myself am shortly coming to the Capital."

  The Prince was dumbfounded at this news, and at a loss how to act, when one of his samurai who was always in attendance on him, Chōhyōye-no-Jō Hasebe Nobutsura by name, spoke out saying: "There is nothing difficult in that; it is easy to escape in woman's attire." This counsel seemed good, so the Prince let his hair loose, donned a female costume, and put on his head a wide straw hat such as the towns women wear, while Rokujo-no-Suke-no-Diaiyu Munenobu went with him to carry his umbrella, and a youth named Tsuru Maru accompanied them, carrying some articles in a bag on his head. Thus imitating the appearance of a young retainer escorting his mistress, they slipped out of the Palace toward the north.

  TAKAKURA-NO-MIYA GOES TO ONJOJI.

  Thus Prince Takakura, leaving Takakura on the north and Konoe on the east, crossed the river Kamo and proceeded to enter Nyoiyama. Formerly the Tenno of Kiyomihara, when attacked by Prince Otomo, went to Yoshinoyama in the guise of a woman, and this Prince was now in just such a plight, fleeing far away through the trackless and unknown hills the whole night through; his feet, torn and bleeding through the unaccustomed toil, stained the sand like the dark maple leaves, and it must have seemed that the dew of the moist verdure was overwhelmed by his tears. Thus they reached Miidera at morning light, and when the priests heard His Highness had come to seek refuge with them, to save, it might be, his fleeting life, they were exceeding respectfully overjoyed, and appointing the Hōrin-in as his lodging, gave him food and clothing with due ceremony.

  Then the Prince, seeing that Hieizan had turned against them, and Nara had not yet sent their men, since Miidera alone could do nothing, on the twenty-third day of the same month left that temple and started for the Southern Capital. The Prince had with him two flutes of Chinese bamboo called "Semi-ori" and "Koeda." Of these Semiori was made of a bamboo with joints like a living Cicada (Semi), which had been sent from China as a return gift when in the reign of Toba-in much gold-dust had been sent as a present to the Emperor of the Sung dynasty. Wondering how such a rare treasure could be well carved, it had been sent to Daisei-in-no-Sōjō Kakusō of Miidera and placed on the altar while prayer was offered for seven days, after which it was carved. On one occasion Takamatsu-no-Chūnagon Sanehira-no-Kyo came to the temple and played on it, but forgetting it was no ordinary flute, he dropped it to the ground from his knees, and the flute, feeling the reproach, broke at the joint like a Semi; so that ever after it was called Semiori. As the Prince excelled so greatly at flute-playing he had inherited it. But now, thinking that his end was nigh, he deposited it in the Kondo Hall before Miroku Bosatsu.

  THE FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE

  Now the Prince fell from his horse six times between Uji and Miidera, because he had no sleep the previous night, so they tore up about six yards of the planking of the bridge at Uji and he entered the temple of Byōdō-in and rested there awhile. The men of Rokuhara, learning that he was fleeing to Nara, at once started off in pursuit to take him and put him to death. Crossing over Kobatayama, about twenty-eight thousand men in all, they pressed on to the bridge-head of Uji. Perceiving that the enemy were at Byōdō-in, they raised their war-cry three times, when they were answered by that of the Prince's men. The vanguard, seeing the danger, raised a cry of alarm: "Take care! they have torn up the bridge!" But the rearguard paid no heed and pushed them on with cries of "Advance! Advance!" so that some two hundred horsemen of the leading company fell through into the river and perished in the stream.

  Then the warriors of bot
h sides, taking their stand at each end of the bridge, began a duel of archery, and on the side of the Prince, Oya-no-Shuncho, Gochiin-no-Tajima, Watanabe-no-Habuku, Sazuku, and Tsuzuku-no-Genda shot so powerfully that their shafts pierced the enemy through both shield and armour. Gensammi Nyūdō Yorimasa, knowing in his heart that this fight would be his last, went forth in a suit of armour of blue-and-white spots worn over his long-sleeved Court hitatare, purposely wearing no helmet on his head, while his son Izu-no-kami Nakatsuna wore a suit of black armour over a hitatare of red brocade, he also leaving his head bare for greater ease in drawing the bow.

  Then Gochiin-no-Tajima, throwing away the sheath of his long halberd, strode forth alone on to the bridge, whereupon the Heike straightway shot at him fast and furious. Tajima, not at all perturbed, ducking to avoid the higher ones and leaping up over those that flew low, cut through those that flew straight with his whirring halberd, so that even the enemy looked on in admiration. Thus it was that he was dubbed "Tajima the arrow cutter."

  Another of the soldier-priests, Tsutsui-no-Jōmyō Meishu, wearing armour laced with black leather over a hitatare of dyed cloth, and a helmet of five plates, a sword in a black lacquered sheath at his side and a quiver of twenty-four black feathered arrows on his back, his bow being also of black lacquer, gripping his favourite white-handled halberd in his hand, also sprang forward alone on to the bridge and shouted in a mighty voice: "Let those at a distance listen, those that are near can see; I am Tsutsui Jōmyō Meishu, the priest; who is there in Miidera who does not know me, a warrior worth a thousand men? Come on anyone who thinks himself some one, and we will see!"