Memoirs of the Warrior Kumagai. Donald Richie

him into a palanquin, and rushing him out of the gate. Michinori's two sons were then dispatched, and the palace set on fire.

      In the meantime, the Emperor Nijō had been awakened by Yoshitomo and his men entering the palace they were supposed to have been guarding. He was taken to an outlying building and locked up just as the retired emperor arrived and was secured in the palace archives. All of this was completed by two in the morning.

      The Minamoto were now in command. They had both reigning and retired emperors, they controlled the guards' office, the heads of the councilor's two sons were already on view at the east gate, and now all the rebels had to do was deal with Michinori himself, with the absent Kiyomori, and with us.

      By the following morning, Vice-Councilor Nobuyori was installed in the offices of the Police Commission, issuing proclamations in the name of the reigning emperor. Soldiers had already surrounded Michinori's mansion and burned it down with everyone in it, including the bossy wet-nurse wife. Her husband managed to escape but was several days later discovered in Uji and decapitated.

      The tonsured trophy was brought back and displayed on the banks of the river. After that, any household members remaining—some nineteen, we later heard—were one by one beheaded under the sightless eyes of the man who had himself revived the death penalty.

      The morning after the insurrection the wind had dropped, but it was still cold and the capital remained shuttered. We too at Rokuhara did not venture out far. Our leader was away and Minamoto soldiers stalked the streets. We were safe—Rokuhara had been designed as a fortress, there were several wells and enough food—but we were confused.

      And so we remained. Though messengers had been at once dispatched to Kiyomori, our commander was still far distant and he had so made himself sole leader that without him none of us knew what to do.

      While we remained inactive in our fort, there was over at the Fujiwara residences a scramble among the usurpers for the various offices of state. Nobuyori finally obtained his wished-for title of General of the Imperial Guards and a ministerial post as well; Yoshitomo was given the province of Harima, and at the following banquet a triumph for the Minamoto was officially announced.

      Why at this point an attack was not launched against us at Rokuhara I do not know. It was later said that Yoshitomo had so counseled but that the indolent Nobuyori overruled him, saying that it was an unlucky day for such an enterprise and that, in any event, he—still the cautious Fujiwara courtier in all things— thought they had best wait to see what the forces of Kiyomori would do.

      We did nothing—stayed inside and so remained for ten whole days. It was a strange period—now sharply cold and us holed up in our fortress like wasps in winter. Except for the cooking fires one would have thought the place deserted. Then on the nineteenth day of the month, Kiyomori returned.

      How happy we were to see him. All of us cheered and his wife ran to greet him just as she was, barefoot, right out into the snow of the courtyard. He had with him many more men—soldiers from Ise—and though this meant that room had to be found for them in our already crowded encampment we were pleased to welcome them.

      At first we thought it was their vast number that had intimidated the Minamoto into letting them through to Rokuhara. Later we learned that this was rather the doing of Nobuyori himself. He reasoned that, since he held both emperors, Kiyomori could do nothing. And so this newly appointed General of the Imperial Guards allowed his enemy safely to return.

      Others did not reason that the leader of the Taira could do nothing. By the morning of the twentieth day of the month, Nobuyori was all alone in his palace, except for Lord Yoshitomo and his men. All the others, terrified of the anger of Commander Kiyomori, had deserted. The peace had ended.

      * * *

      This war between the Taira and the Minamoto officially began in the early morning of the twenty-seventh day. At three, a group of masked soldiers entered the palace archives and roused the retired emperor. They took him—again protesting, it is said—from the northwest gate, eventually depositing him at the Ninnaji, a temple well outside the city gates. Just how easily this was accomplished I myself learned, since I had been ordered to serve on a like mission: the liberation of the Emperor Nijō.

      Accompanying us were two Fujiwara officers—Tsunemune and Korekata, head of the police. That they had come over to our side was a surprise, yet there they were, right in our compound, their horses shaking the snow from their manes. They then rode out again, our men following, to lead us to the enemy, now unlawfully occupying the imperial palace.

      Entering the grounds was simple. We were unchallenged. Either Nobuyori was asleep or, more likely, the guards had already defected. Once inside, Korekata led us directly to a small building on the north side. There he battered at the doors until they were opened by the terrified retainers, and in we marched.

      When his imperial majesty the Emperor Nijō appeared, I did not recognize him. To be sure, I had never seen him before— still, I was not prepared for this pale and beautiful sixteen-year-old with eyebrows plucked, lips painted, lacquered teeth shining in the candlelight. Only when this wonderful figure moved did I see that it was a boy. With him was a real girl—his sister.

      They made no complaint but entered their palanquins and we traversed the entire length of the city unchallenged until we came to Gojō. Here a group of Minamoto soldiers guarding the avenue to Rokuhara halted us, and the wisdom of Korekata's disguising the emperor became apparent.

      The soldiery was told that two palace entertainers were being escorted to their homes by express orders of Nobuyori.

      Suspicious, they demanded to be shown. And so the young emperor and his sister were ordered out. Here, while the guards were looking at them, I also had the opportunity of gazing at his majesty.

      He made a boyish girl when one knew he was a boy. While his sister cowered, his confusion was masculine, resolute. I felt a strong emotion—I was only three years older than he—which I set down to reverence. It began again to snow and there he stood, flakes in his locks. I gazed at the sight and my eyes shone.

      Satisfied, the guards let us pass and we proceeded up the road and eventually reached Rokuhara at four in the morning. And about an hour later there came another knocking at the gate. After the lookouts signaled that there was no danger, we unbarred it to a most miserable and bedraggled lot. It was the emperor's household, whole dozens who, having no place else to go, had followed us out, wandering after their emperor in all their finery through the slush and sleet.

      We had no room for them. With us, the Ise army, the imperial suite, and now these; there might be food and drink enough, but where would everyone lie down? Quite a number had no beds, but I was permitted my pallet because I had had the duty that night. And with me under the coverlet I took a young page who would otherwise have had no place to sleep. He was about fourteen, knew nothing but life in the palace, but was anxious for his own safety and hence willing to please.

      His name was Tamamaru and though he came from common folk he had been chosen for imperial service because of his beauty, which was great—cold, wet, and crying though he was. I thought he looked just like my young emperor, though his teeth were white and his eyebrows his own. At any rate he was frightened enough to do whatever I made him, and we then fell into an exhausted sleep. Which was just as well, as I got no more sleep for some time.

      By dawn the torpid Nobuyori awoke to what had occurred and in the snow and the dark called for a review of his troops. Two thousand lined up, icicles doubtless on their visors. With the awakened general were Yoshitomo and his three sons— including the thirteen-year-old Yoritomo, whom I would come to know so well. Nobuyori gave his orders and Yoshitomo left with a mere battalion of soldiers to declare war.

      They reached our bridge shortly after dawn and stood there in the white light on the other side of the river, a smallish group of men. Then Lord Yoshitomo rode forward and delivered his challenge.

      It was a stirring one. A Minamoto, he shouted, was true always to the throne. And now that his majesty was in mortal danger due to the ambitions of the Taira, he—Minamoto no Yoshitomo—was ready to engage in righteous battle on behalf of his imperial