Read Online The Heike Story by Eiji Yoshikawa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eiji Yoshikawa
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Shoko, chosen after a few years to be the Emperor Toba's concubine, was soon elevated to be his consort, the Empress. Reluctant to sever his relations with Shoko even after she had become his son's wife, the ex-Emperor Shirakawa continued to visit her in secret. The young Emperor Toba was ignorant of the intrigue until his Empress gave birth to the Crown Prince. It was then swiftly rumored at Court that the Emperor had been quite indifferent to the first cries of the newborn infant, convinced that the child was not his own but his father's.
The ex-Emperor's unnatural conduct and treachery poisoned Toba's youth, leaving a wound that refused to heal, and his bitter disavowals of his son Sutoku, who now reigned, created rancors and recriminations which threatened to set off a holocaust between the heads of the two governments. Yet how urbanely was it concealed today in the perfumed elegance of the Kamo races! Who could believe that these flower-embowered ranks, these powdered, effeminate figures, absorbed in the pursuit of pleasure, were fuel for the terrible conflagration lying in store for them?
"See how his majesty smiles!"
"The Emperor now stands. He watches with such interest!"
Such were the remarks exchanged between the courtiers whose eyes were on the racecourse, but whose inward vision hovered around the two rulers, constantly aware of the bitter hatred coiled in the hearts of those two.
Event followed event until noon. Dust rose high over the parched racecourse.
"You seem dazed, Wataru. What's the matter?" Kiyomori inquired of his friend, whom he found standing idly at one side of the warriors' pavilion.
The black four-year-old with the white fetlocks, in which Wataru had placed so much hope, was not on the list. Puzzled by this omission, Kiyomori had waited since the start of the races for a chance to speak to Wataru, who shrank from his questions and replied dejectedly:
"This morning, while it was still dark, I made the mistake of taking the black colt from the stables here and giving him a run. ... It was fate—just bad luck."
"What happened?"
"The carpenters who were here yesterday setting up the stands must have left some nails about, for the colt stepped on one and got it in his right hind hoof. I wish it had been I that was spiked!"
"Hmm—" was Kiyomori's only reply as the jockeys' superstition flashed across his mind. Wataru would only jeer at it again. But Kiyomori's next words were immeasurably comforting to Wataru.
"Don't lost heart, Wataru. There will be other races in which he can compete. There's Ninna-ji this autumn. He's good enough to win anywhere. Why hurry him?"
"Umm. . . . I'll enter him this autumn!" Wataru exclaimed.
Kiyomori began to chuckle. "Why such regret? Have you bet heavily on this colt?"
"No, sheer obstinacy. They've all been telling me that this colt would bring bad luck."
"Did you go through the 'whip ritual'?" Kiyomori inquired.
"The 'whip ritual'? I'll have none of that! Pure superstition! Why should these riders who have priests mumble incantations over their whips expect to win? I thought I would open their eyes."
While Wataru spoke, Kiyomori's eyes wandered. To the roll of drums, two horses and their riders streaked away from the starting-post in a curl of dust, but he was not looking at them. His eyes swept over the massed heads in the main pavilion. Between the throngs of men and women he caught a glimpse of his mother. Among all those elegantly dressed women, his mother stood out breathtakingly lovely in her gorgeous robes.
The eyes of the crowd were fixed hard on the course, but his mother's glance was turned toward him. Their eyes met. She beckoned to him with her eyes, but Kiyomori stared back at her coldly. She continued to smile, cajoling and pleading, as though amused by a sulking child, then turned to speak to Ruriko, who stood beside her. At the same moment a thunder of
The ex-Emperor's unnatural conduct and treachery poisoned Toba's youth, leaving a wound that refused to heal, and his bitter disavowals of his son Sutoku, who now reigned, created rancors and recriminations which threatened to set off a holocaust between the heads of the two governments. Yet how urbanely was it concealed today in the perfumed elegance of the Kamo races! Who could believe that these flower-embowered ranks, these powdered, effeminate figures, absorbed in the pursuit of pleasure, were fuel for the terrible conflagration lying in store for them?
"See how his majesty smiles!"
"The Emperor now stands. He watches with such interest!"
Such were the remarks exchanged between the courtiers whose eyes were on the racecourse, but whose inward vision hovered around the two rulers, constantly aware of the bitter hatred coiled in the hearts of those two.
Event followed event until noon. Dust rose high over the parched racecourse.
"You seem dazed, Wataru. What's the matter?" Kiyomori inquired of his friend, whom he found standing idly at one side of the warriors' pavilion.
The black four-year-old with the white fetlocks, in which Wataru had placed so much hope, was not on the list. Puzzled by this omission, Kiyomori had waited since the start of the races for a chance to speak to Wataru, who shrank from his questions and replied dejectedly:
"This morning, while it was still dark, I made the mistake of taking the black colt from the stables here and giving him a run. ... It was fate—just bad luck."
"What happened?"
"The carpenters who were here yesterday setting up the stands must have left some nails about, for the colt stepped on one and got it in his right hind hoof. I wish it had been I that was spiked!"
"Hmm—" was Kiyomori's only reply as the jockeys' superstition flashed across his mind. Wataru would only jeer at it again. But Kiyomori's next words were immeasurably comforting to Wataru.
"Don't lost heart, Wataru. There will be other races in which he can compete. There's Ninna-ji this autumn. He's good enough to win anywhere. Why hurry him?"
"Umm. . . . I'll enter him this autumn!" Wataru exclaimed.
Kiyomori began to chuckle. "Why such regret? Have you bet heavily on this colt?"
"No, sheer obstinacy. They've all been telling me that this colt would bring bad luck."
"Did you go through the 'whip ritual'?" Kiyomori inquired.
"The 'whip ritual'? I'll have none of that! Pure superstition! Why should these riders who have priests mumble incantations over their whips expect to win? I thought I would open their eyes."
While Wataru spoke, Kiyomori's eyes wandered. To the roll of drums, two horses and their riders streaked away from the starting-post in a curl of dust, but he was not looking at them. His eyes swept over the massed heads in the main pavilion. Between the throngs of men and women he caught a glimpse of his mother. Among all those elegantly dressed women, his mother stood out breathtakingly lovely in her gorgeous robes.
The eyes of the crowd were fixed hard on the course, but his mother's glance was turned toward him. Their eyes met. She beckoned to him with her eyes, but Kiyomori stared back at her coldly. She continued to smile, cajoling and pleading, as though amused by a sulking child, then turned to speak to Ruriko, who stood beside her. At the same moment a thunder of
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