A Tale of False Fortunes (13 page)

Read A Tale of False Fortunes Online

Authors: Fumiko Enchi

That day, Michinaga remained in constant attendance at the Seiryòden Palace, never letting the emperor out of sight, ostensibly to protect his majesty. In reality, however, he was maintaining careful surveillance lest in his absence a proclamation of pardon for Korechika’s and Takaie’s offenses should result from the emperor’s affection for the empress, thereby undoing all Michinaga had planned for so long and so carefully. The empress dowager had also come to the upper quarters in the Kokiden Palace and was likewise keeping an eye on the emperor.

In a radical departure from his usual magnanimity, on that day Michinaga assumed a severe attitude toward all court officials, seemingly unwilling to overlook so much as a hair out of place.

When the report came from Nijò that Korechika’s and Takaie’s departure would be delayed, Michinaga straightened his scepter and commanded sternly: “An imperial edict is not to be negotiated according to personal sympathies. Properly speaking, those two ought to have been tied to their carts and sent off.

See to it that they leave the capital tonight! Anyone who takes an imperial edict lightly, whether the imperial police or soldiers of the Taira or Minamoto clans, will be held accountable and shown no leniency!”

In an attempt to assuage Michinaga’s agitation, a lady-in-waiting to the empress dowager approached him and relayed her mistress’ comment: “What your lordship says is true, of course, but inasmuch as the empress is also at the Nijò mansion, please do not take too heavy-handed a measure.” The sound of wailing from the former regent’s household was loud enough to be heard beyond the middle gates. It was noised about among those in the house that, things being as they were, a departure that evening would be utterly unreasonable. More than anything, for Korechika the empress’ presence was a great source of security. Several times Takaie took Korechika’s hand, saying, “It will be just as difficult to part no matter how long we wait. Come on, let’s show some resolution and leave.” Each time, however, their mother would join Korechika’s hand firmly
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with the empress’ and, in a state of agitation that belied her usual clearheaded wit, would wail, “No! As long as the empress is here, what can they do to the palace minister? If Korechika were no longer here, I myself would die!” The empress herself had begun to realize that because of her “big sisterly” love for the emperor, hope for the advancement of her family had been dashed, and that power had passed into the hands of another.

She could not therefore in good conscience bring herself to urge Korechika on his way to his place of exile, but just gave herself over to tears with the others.

Takaie said to her, “Why should you grieve at this late hour?

A year ago I predicted that such a day would come. Now that I think about it, I was just like the tiger moth that flies into the flame, hastening its own demise. It has been the same for you, brother, so don’t carry on with your effeminate weeping and wailing at this late hour, disgracing our father’s name!” That night, he loaded his cart and resolutely set out for Izumo.

Those guarding the mansion knew that difficulties would preclude Korechika’s leaving before the next morning, and they built great watch fires in front of the garden. As they dozed there that night, an unexpected thing happened.

Daylight came like the tense calm that follows a great earth-quake. Early that morning, messengers again came from the palace to press the matter, and some Minamoto warriors from the country stole up to the veranda and peeked inside the bamboo blinds. In a state of agitation, one of them dashed to the superintendent of the imperial police and blurted out, “It looks suspicious. . . . The palace minister . . . I mean, the governor-general . . . is nowhere to be seen inside. You see, we should have loaded him on a cart last night, even if we had to bind him hand and foot. Now what will happen to us when the lord regent hears about this?”

The superintendent was stunned. When he announced that he wished to meet with the governor-general, Norimasa emerged and said, without looking the superintendent in the face, as if with a guilty conscience, “My lord is ill and resting. I beg you wait until this evening.” Then he slipped inside, making an escape.

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When this was reported to the palace, the emperor was still at his evening quarters. Without a trace of agitation in his voice, Michinaga sternly ordered, “Storm the mansion now, search the rafters and break down the inside walls. If the governor-general is nowhere to be found, the imperial police and the soldiers will be held accountable also.”

The superintendent answered respectfully, “I shall see to it that all else is done as you command, but it is difficult for us to act with the empress present. They say that she is with child. His majesty might be displeased by any rash action, so I have tended to be rather indulgent about everything.” With no change in expression Michinaga commanded, “I’ll take full responsibility for that, and none of you will be blamed.

Make sure that the empress is concealed from sight, and then search the house. Don’t hold back.”

The night before, Korechika had slipped out to bid farewell at his father’s grave in Kohata. He was supposed to have returned by morning, but it took longer than expected, and the sun was already high as he made his way back. Thinking that there was nothing for it but to wait until evening, he hid in the house of a woman with whom he was acquainted. In the meantime, the search of the Nijò mansion was underway. Just as Yukikuni had feared, country soldiers went charging up the steps alongside the imperial police, showing no reservation as they cleared the bamboo blinds and curtains out of their way with their swords and halberds, yelling, “Imperial order! . . . Imperial order!” Soldiers were running about from the entrance to the main building searching for Korechika.

The ladies-in-waiting and girls attending the empress did not ordinarily show their faces to such uncouth soldiers. Fearful and weeping, the women clustered about the empress’ curtained dais like flower petals quivering in the wind. At the empress’

side was Kureha, whose erect posture bespoke her indomitable nature. She had no use for the argument that “such were the times” and loathed Michinaga’s having committed such a bar-barism at the empress’ residence. Should anyone force his way within the curtains, she was determined to protect her highness
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and conceal her royal countenance from the eyes of any rustic boors. She hardly blinked as she concentrated on every sign from beyond the curtains: the sound of things being toppled, the coarse voices of the men, the shrieking of the ladies-in-waiting.

In the meantime, the secretary of the imperial police, Yukikuni, had climbed into the rafters of the main hall. He had for the most part concluded that Korechika was not in the residence. Rather than help with the search, he stood near the women surrounding the curtained dais to prevent any soldiers from approaching the empress. Kureha was nowhere to be seen, and Yukikuni concluded she must also be inside the curtains.

He marveled at the strange turn of events that had brought a lowly functionary like him into the main building of the former regent’s household on the day of its greatest crisis, there to be separated by a mere curtain from his lover, who was with the empress.

The search had utterly ravaged the main building, but it had been in vain; Korechika was nowhere to be found in the house.

Norimasa’s statement that he was supposed to have gone to visit a grave and that he would certainly return by nightfall was relayed to the palace. Just as the shadows of dusk were rendering indistinct the airy spaces in trees on the islet of the pond and in the garden, a single ox cart with a wicker cover entered quietly through the middle gate, right through the tight security. A minor official of the imperial police, clad in a red robe and with a spear in his hand, ran up to the cart and demanded, “Who goes there?” An uncommonly refined voice answered from within, “I am the governor-general, returning from a visit to a grave. Allow me to enter.” The author of
A Tale of Flowering
Fortunes
describes as follows the appearance of Korechika alighting from the cart in the covered passage leading to the middle gate:

He seemed to be only about twenty-two or twenty-three: neat in appearance, slightly plump, well featured, and of a fair complexion—perhaps the very picture of the shining Prince Genji.

He was wearing three delicate, light gray robes over an undergarment of the same color, and his overrobe and trousers were
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the same. Both his accomplishments and his appearance were said to exceed what is usually found among court nobles. Everyone thought it sad that he remained in the cart instead of riding through the gate, as if he alone were showing deference to the empress. It was reported that the Governor-General had returned from Kohata, and an edict came in response from the Palace saying that, since it was already nightfall, he should be well guarded until the Hour of the Hare [about 6:00 a.m.] the next morning, when he should be sent on his way.

Korechika, who had just returned, was astounded at the violence that had left the main building in shambles. At the same time he sensed how irresistible Michinaga’s offensive move was and that it showed not the slightest remission in spite of the fact that the empress was residing there.

Throughout that entire night, Korechika and his family bade affectionate farewells to one another, but just as Takaie had said, even after two days the reluctance to part had not abated.

Their mother, Kishi, continued to give herself over to weeping, pressing her face into the empress’ and Korechika’s hands clutched in front of her.

The imperial police were at an utter loss. After reporting several times to the palace, a command finally came from Michinaga: “I don’t care if you have to wrest him from the empress’

embrace. If an imperial edict appears to be disregarded, it slights the authority of the emperor.”

They realized that further hesitation would jeopardize their own positions. The superintendent of the imperial police was perforce about to take it upon himself when Yukikuni stepped forward and said, “I shall assume the task of separating the palace minister from the empress. Please do not give the assignment to anyone else.” The superintendent replied, “Well, then, I shall leave it up to you. Whatever you do, don’t be timid and bungle it!”

Later, when reflecting back on all this, Yukikuni could not decide what possessed him at that time to volunteer for such an important mission. Perhaps it was his genuine feeling that it
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would be a sacrilege to expose Kureha’s adored mistress to the gaze of another uncouth man.

Yukikuni first approached Norimasa and explained that it would be disadvantageous to the empress as well if they delayed any longer, but the old man apparently had heard such persuasion too often. It was as if his mind had shriveled, no longer capable of prudent judgment.

Yukikuni realized that he could not delay any longer and, pushing his way through the dappled disarray of the robes of wailing ladies-in-waiting, approached the curtain and announced in a loud voice: “Secretary of Imperial Police Tachibana no Yukikuni has come for his lordship the governor-general.” There was no response from within; the sound of Kishi’s sobbing could be plainly heard. Yukikuni waited for a while, but since there was no answer, he added, “With all due respect, your lordship, this is an imperial edict.” As he spoke, he lifted one of the curtains. He could see the black hair of the mother, prostrate with grief, pressed down upon Korechika’s and the empress’ clasped hands. At the same time he was dazed by a subtle fragrance that came wafting out.

Directly before him, a woman was looking at him quietly, with a steady gaze. He ought to have understood that it was the empress, but he was so overwhelmed by the radiant beauty of that face that for a moment he felt both the dread and the ecstasy of a criminal placed before a bodhisattva. “Please, let go of his hand, I beg of you.” Yukikuni’s youthful face flushed as if pierced by a strong light. He enunciated his words in a dream-like stupor and, taking Korechika by the hand, tried to make him stand. Kishi, clinging to Korechika’s waist, rose totteringly with the two men, and then stroked Korechika’s trousers with both hands as if she were blind.

The empress made no attempt to conceal her tearless face with a fan, as noblewomen were wont to do at such times. She remained sitting and did not release Korechika’s hand even after he had stood up, and was pulled into a kneeling position.

Like a moonflower rising from the thinly layered, light red undergarments surrounded by a deep purple outer robe, her
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lustrous white face was slightly raised to look up at her brother.

It was for but a moment that Yukikuni saw the empress’ face, but he had so lost his composure that, for all he knew, it might have been an eternity. When he finally succeeded in pulling Korechika outside the curtains, he felt as if he were in a waking dream. He could still feel pressed into his palm the cool and uncrushable petal-like softness of the empress’ hand, from which he had wrested Korechika’s. At the same time, he could also see the pink, fleshy face of a woman, her eyes firmly set and fairly bursting with anger, standing and spreading her sleeve to cover the empress. When he realized that it was Kureha, the woman pledged to be his mate for life, he felt drained of power, as if he were sliding into the very depths of hell.

Although Kureha had been at the empress’ side constantly up to that time, she was worried about the pallid color of her highness’ face and had slipped outside the curtains briefly to prepare a medicinal broth. Upon returning, she was surprised beyond measure to find her lover, Yukikuni, attempting to free Korechika’s hand from the empress’ grasp by prying it loose from her fingers. Instinctively she went to protect the empress, crying, “How dare you!”

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