Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
The cripple said enviously: "Did you want Ryozen? He moved away the day before yesterday to a fine house off yonder— nothing at all like this clay hut. Someone from the gay quarters came for his daughter, I heard. I've only this hunchback; no one'd want her even if I gave her away. You're a doctor, aren't you? You could do something for her, couldn't you?"
That night Asatori applied himself as usual to his books, but he hardly understood what he read, for the Serpent's face and that of an elderly woman kept appearing between him and his open book. He was hurt, too, at Ryozen's not having come to say good-by. Casual acquaintances were a commonplace in the slums, where people arrived in the morning and were gone by night; it happened all the time, he told himself; he had no real reason to feel as he did. He continued to think about Asuka. She was not his child. What could he have done for her anyway? What made him take such an interest in her? Moths and small insects lay scattered on his desk and all over his books, lured to their death by the flame. There were a few fragile, lovely shapes among them—like Asuka; others—horrid creatures—reminded him of the Serpent. What could he do after all but physic the sick? Make Asuka happy? Presumptuous! Why should he believe he could help others? Had he grown so conceited as to think that he was capable of such a superhuman task? He was not able even to heal the sick!
Asatori stepped out to the rear of the house and splashed himself with bucketfuls of water from the well, partly to shake off his drowsiness.
As he dried himself and drew on his cotton robe, he saw people on their roofs, shouting to each other: "Where's the fire?"
"Toward Horikawa."
"In the gay quarters or thereabouts."
Asatori looked up at the red glow in the sky. On hearing that the fire was somewhere near the gay quarters, he was suddenly tempted to follow the sound of clattering feet. But he went back into his house instead, closed the shutters, and fumbled his way to bed. Now and then he heard the thump and roll of an unripe persimmon as it dropped on the thin roof over his head.
THE JEWEL OF THE INLAND SEA
A small fleet of river-boats was preparing to leave for the estuary at Yodo, and a noisy crowd thronged the shore. With summer here and his court duties less pressing, Kiyomori was at last on his way to Itsuku-shima and the ancestral shrine. Vessels of every size and description were there: cabin-boats, boats for carrying horses and arms, craft loaded with foodstuffs, all ruffling the waters and crowding the river.
"Hasn't Tokitada come yet?" Kiyomori inquired impatiently.
"He should be here soon," Norimori replied, to pacify his impatient brother.
Norimori and two of his captains as well as Michiyoshi, the former pirate, were accompanying Kiyomori on the trip through the Inland Sea, which he knew well. Carpenters, masons, builders, and other workmen also were in the party of close to thirty men.
Kiyomori turned to Red-Nose, who stood behind. "Bamboku," he said, "Tokitada hasn't come after all. Hadn't we better start?"
"Well, we might wait a little longer. He's late, but he's sure to come."
"What do you think is keeping him?"
"Not anything at the Court, but something about one of his retainers. There was a fire in the gay quarters last night."
"Why should that delay him?"
"I heard that one of his retainers had a falling out with a retainer to some lord, and that that started the fire."
"Another of those clashes between soldiers?"
"There seem to be more and more of them lately. The Guards at the Palace and the Court go about insulting each other and picking quarrels."
"Rivalry at the top filtering down to them? A nuisance—"
"The soldiers don't seem to have cooled down yet since the slaughter of the last two wars. I don't like to say it—but the warriors are growing rather highhanded these days."
"We'll have to overlook that just now. They've been oppressed for so long and are just beginning to hold up their heads. . . . But I wonder what happened last night."
"The retainer had just a little too much to drink and slandered his majesty's second consort. . . . The other fellow overheard him and started an argument. That's how it all began."
"Was that the cause of the fire?"
"Something of the kind."
"We can overlook the swaggering, but fires and turning politics into a private quarrel mustn't be tolerated."
"It looks very much as though these soldiers are turning the enmity between their majesties into a quarrel of their own."
"It's what the soldiers might do that worries me. I wanted Tokitada to keep an eye on them while I was away."
"Oh, there he is—just in time!"
Kiyomori's face cleared as he scanned the shore and perceived Tokitada dismounting among a tangle of vehicles. He seemed to be in great haste; pushing his way through the crowds, he soon boarded Kiyomori's boat.
Behind lowered blinds, Kiyomori and Tokitada were engaged for some time in talk. Kiyomori looked on Tokitada as his right arm and depended on him even more than he did on his own brothers.
". . . Very well, then, I leave you in charge," Kiyomori ended, and Tokitada quickly made his way to the shore to join the throng of men and women from Rokuhara who had come to see Kiyomori off.
In this season of drought the Yodo River was low. Even where it was deepest the boats scraped bottom, forcing the boatmen and soldiers to pull or pole the craft over the shallows. The heat on the windless river was almost intolerable.
Kiyomori's plan was to sail down a tributary of the Kanzaki River to the bay and there board seagoing vessels for the port of Owada (Kobй), but the shallowness of the river obliged the party to take horse the next day and continue the journey across the burning dunes along the sea. From Mikagй they continued westward; behind them was a backdrop of mountains and before them level land that curved to the contours of the coast. Rarely did they come across any signs of human habitation; southwesterly winds unceasingly sprayed the pines on the beach, and from time to time they saw Chinese junks drifting helplessly before the wind and tide. But the weather was fine and the party in good spirits.
This region through which they were passing and which they named Fukuhara—the Plain of Good Fortune—awoke many memories for Kiyomori.
". . . This is where we landed in 1135, when I was with my father. Putting down that revolt in the west, we landed here. ... Those fishing settlements and the twisted pines haven't changed in the least. Only the times have changed—and I."
All the Heike lands—Isй, Bingo, Higo, Aki, Harima—bordered on the sea. All his youthful memories of his father, the achievements of the Heike, were inseparable from the sea, and Fukuhara was the link between that eventful past and Kiyomori's dreams of the future.
For nearly three weeks Kiyomori stayed over at the post-stage in Fukuhara. In that time he often took Bamboku with him to explore the surrounding hills and mountains, or spent whole days crossing the plains under a scorching sun. At other times he had his chief engineer make soundings around Cape Owada and the river mouth. When rain kept them indoors, Kiyomori ordered charts of the surrounding country to be made, then spent the night pouring over them alone, lost in reverie.
Tireless himself, Kiyomori exhausted his men by consulting with them late into the night, and even after everyone was asleep would suddenly sit up in his bed, light a lamp, and continue to study the maps until dawn.
"I wonder if it's quite wise to stay here much longer. How will people in the capital take it when they hear of this, I wonder," Bamboku asked one day.
Kiyomori shook his head. "I can't say. Supposedly, we're on a pilgrimage to Itsuku-shima."
"In that case, sir, let me remain behind to finish the work. I'll follow your plans for surveying the land around here, look into the water-supply and the possibilities of road-building."
Kiyomori fell in with Bamboku's suggestions and, leaving a few of his technicians with him, resumed the journey to Itsuku-shima by water. Day after day he filled his lungs with the air blowing off the endless blue ocean. And as numberless islands floated past them on the Inland Sea, Kiyomori's vision ranged far and free and he exulted: "Ah, how cramped is the capital! What a great to-do people make over that dreary little hollow! My future home will be built in sight of this sea. You shall see what great things I shall accomplish beyond the sea!"
The outlines of Itsuku-shima finally appeared one day, floating on the crest of the waves.
The priests on the island and the shrine virgins soon appeared on the beach to welcome Kiyomori. On landing, he soon found that the shrines and temple were almost in ruins; the winds from the sea had done their worst; the white sands and the wind-twisted pines along the shore alone were beautiful.
Kiyomori and his party lodged in an inn near the beach, and on the following day he began his week's retreat.
During the remainder of his stay, numerous visitors from the mainland rowed to the island to pay their respects to Kiyomori, whose fame had spread to all parts of the country. Aging warriors who had served under Kiyomori's grandfather appeared; others who remembered his father Tadamori also came; while soldiers who had served with Kiyomori in the past flocked to see him once more.
"It's as though I had come home," Kiyomori said to those gathered at a banquet in his honor. "This is so much home to me that I don't want to return to the capital."
Kiyomori's stay lasted two weeks and during that time he unfolded his plans to the chief priest of Itsuku-shima. They were grandiose plans—so incredible that the chief priest could only listen in astonishment. Here was a warrior, in rank but a councilor at the Court, still in his forties—an impossible visionary speaking! For this is what Kiyomori said:
"We cannot leave this beautiful island in such ruins. I want —and I can't tell you how soon this will be done—to see this shoreline and the hills so enhanced in all their natural beauty that this island will outshine Kyoto itself. There will be an archway like no other that has ever been seen, spanning the water as you approach Itsuku-shima from the sea, and those who come to worship here will enter by this great gate. The main shrine and its adjoining buildings will be connected by wide galleries, suspended above the sea, and the ebbing and flowing tide will give the whole variety; at night a hundred stone lanterns will be lit and their brilliance dye the waves, making this island even more enthralling. The main hall of worship will be spacious enough to seat thousands; towers and five-storied pagodas will pierce the pine woods on the flanks of the hills. The shrine and towers, set against the rocks in the hillside, will only increase the beauty of these surroundings. ..."
Fired by the picture he had painted, Kiyomori continued: "This will not be for my pleasure alone, but all who come from the capital shall see it, and many ships from far countries—from China—will sail past and be told: 'See! this is Japan, where even the smallest and remotest island boasts the noblest in architecture and artistry!' They may say we have aped their buildings, but the pines and the white sands of the shore and their beauty, changing through the seasons, are unique. And when they come ashore, there will be spread before them the essence of our arts through the ages—the Asuka, Nara, and Heian eras. . . . And when their. ships put in at Owada, I will welcome them in my own house. Owada? That will take time, but I plan to make it a great seaport, sheltered from winds and tides. And when my villa at Fukuhara is ready, I shall come here to worship every month in ships as stately as those from China. . . ."
To Kiyomori's listeners these were tall tales, the babbling of a madman—an impossible dreamer. Yet there was a breadth to this man that reminded them of the sea, and they were proud to claim him as one of their own.
And when Kiyomori was ready to leave, he was loaded with gifts—priceless treasures from China—incense, sweet-smelling aloes-wood, figured cloths, silk tissues, heavy brocades, paintings, vessels of celadon, dyestuffs and drugs. Not all were from China, for some came from those countries facing the Mediterranean on the east, by caravans from Arabia and the Persian Gulf.
The sight and scent of such exotic merchandise made Kiyomori impatient. "Wait, wait until the port at Owada is completed," he was heard to say. Yet that day came too slowly for him, like the tedious creeping of the shadow across a sundial.
At Owada, Kiyomori once more interrupted his journey back to Kyoto to meet Bamboku, and in September, after an absence of a month and a half, arrived in the capital.
Something was wrong, Kiyomori realized as he entered Rokuhara.