cried out, “Mother, mother!” and, shoving the armrest out of his way, tried to go to her side.
Michinaga caught him by the sleeve. “You mustn’t go near her.
The high priest will see to it that the malignant spirit is exorcised from that crazed medium of a lady-in-waiting. The empress dowager will shortly feel better. Your majesty must not come in Chapter Three c 65
contact with any evil influence. I beg you to leave immediately.” Practically wrapping the emperor in the sleeve of his own garment, Michinaga also withdrew from the room. Surrounded by screens in a room to the side of the main hall was the hellish scene of the exorcist, his face painted vermilion, intoning mystical formulas in a high voice and whipping the lady-in-waiting with his rosary, her hair dishevelled and utterly wretched to behold.
Even after returning to the imperial palace that night, the emperor did not go to the Umetsubo Pavilion. He was torn between feeling guilty for having broken his promise to the empress and a perennial desire to bury his cheek in her cold black hair and worship her smooth, sleek skin until his heart was set ablaze. At the same time, he was chilled by the all-too-plain maliciousness of the maledictory words pronounced by the medium at the Ichijò Palace.
The emperor was well enough able to imagine that the empress, who had not succeeded in her backing of Korechika for the regency, might not bear amiable feelings toward the empress dowager, but when he had been alone with his consort, she had never once spoken in a derogatory manner about his mother. Even when the regency had been given to Michikane immediately after Michitaka’s death, the empress had sent a letter to the emperor from the Tòkaden Palace showing a gentle, sisterly solicitude at a time when he was caught between pleas-ing her or his mother.
“Such a malicious curse couldn’t possibly have come from her heart. I wonder if it might not be a plot by those in my mother’s camp to drive us apart.”
After returning to his palace that night, various thoughts passed through the youthful emperor’s mind about the wretched medium he had seen that day. His love for his consort was so deep that at length he found himself speculating on the motives of that lady-in-waiting. But then, how could he account for the fact that the demeanor and speech of the medium were identical to those of the empress? Particularly, how could anyone but Teishi herself have known of the verses “The grasses of love /Piled 66 c A Tale of False Fortunes up high in seven carts /in seven great carts,” which he had recited in the bedchamber just the night before? Such thoughts gave him an uneasy feeling that perhaps some sinful, feminine karma was lodged in the empress’ heart and was manifesting itself through such uncanny workings.
Of course, the emperor did not mention this incident to anyone. To the personal attendants and ladies-in-waiting, though, who were serving that day in the Ichijò Palace, it was shocking to see the empress’ living ghost attacking the empress dowager, and they could not very well keep it to themselves. Among the valets who never left the emperor’s side was the lover of a lady-in-waiting in the Umetsubo Pavilion, and he recounted to her what happened at the Ichijò Palace that night when the emperor did not go to the empress. Amazed and alarmed, the next morning the lady-in-waiting relayed the story in a hushed voice to Chûshò, the empress’ nurse.
Chûshò had thought it strange when the emperor did not show up the night before, and she nodded understandingly. She did not have the courage to inform the empress of such a matter right away, however, but waited for an opportune moment to call Ukon no Naishi, who had come to deliver a letter from the emperor to a paneled door somewhat removed from the empress’ presence, and there inquired about what had happened the previous day. Naishi’s face betrayed a degree of con-sternation, and,
Michinaga caught him by the sleeve. “You mustn’t go near her.
The high priest will see to it that the malignant spirit is exorcised from that crazed medium of a lady-in-waiting. The empress dowager will shortly feel better. Your majesty must not come in Chapter Three c 65
contact with any evil influence. I beg you to leave immediately.” Practically wrapping the emperor in the sleeve of his own garment, Michinaga also withdrew from the room. Surrounded by screens in a room to the side of the main hall was the hellish scene of the exorcist, his face painted vermilion, intoning mystical formulas in a high voice and whipping the lady-in-waiting with his rosary, her hair dishevelled and utterly wretched to behold.
Even after returning to the imperial palace that night, the emperor did not go to the Umetsubo Pavilion. He was torn between feeling guilty for having broken his promise to the empress and a perennial desire to bury his cheek in her cold black hair and worship her smooth, sleek skin until his heart was set ablaze. At the same time, he was chilled by the all-too-plain maliciousness of the maledictory words pronounced by the medium at the Ichijò Palace.
The emperor was well enough able to imagine that the empress, who had not succeeded in her backing of Korechika for the regency, might not bear amiable feelings toward the empress dowager, but when he had been alone with his consort, she had never once spoken in a derogatory manner about his mother. Even when the regency had been given to Michikane immediately after Michitaka’s death, the empress had sent a letter to the emperor from the Tòkaden Palace showing a gentle, sisterly solicitude at a time when he was caught between pleas-ing her or his mother.
“Such a malicious curse couldn’t possibly have come from her heart. I wonder if it might not be a plot by those in my mother’s camp to drive us apart.”
After returning to his palace that night, various thoughts passed through the youthful emperor’s mind about the wretched medium he had seen that day. His love for his consort was so deep that at length he found himself speculating on the motives of that lady-in-waiting. But then, how could he account for the fact that the demeanor and speech of the medium were identical to those of the empress? Particularly, how could anyone but Teishi herself have known of the verses “The grasses of love /Piled 66 c A Tale of False Fortunes up high in seven carts /in seven great carts,” which he had recited in the bedchamber just the night before? Such thoughts gave him an uneasy feeling that perhaps some sinful, feminine karma was lodged in the empress’ heart and was manifesting itself through such uncanny workings.
Of course, the emperor did not mention this incident to anyone. To the personal attendants and ladies-in-waiting, though, who were serving that day in the Ichijò Palace, it was shocking to see the empress’ living ghost attacking the empress dowager, and they could not very well keep it to themselves. Among the valets who never left the emperor’s side was the lover of a lady-in-waiting in the Umetsubo Pavilion, and he recounted to her what happened at the Ichijò Palace that night when the emperor did not go to the empress. Amazed and alarmed, the next morning the lady-in-waiting relayed the story in a hushed voice to Chûshò, the empress’ nurse.
Chûshò had thought it strange when the emperor did not show up the night before, and she nodded understandingly. She did not have the courage to inform the empress of such a matter right away, however, but waited for an opportune moment to call Ukon no Naishi, who had come to deliver a letter from the emperor to a paneled door somewhat removed from the empress’ presence, and there inquired about what had happened the previous day. Naishi’s face betrayed a degree of con-sternation, and,
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