laughing at us and vowing they will get our man. This is my chance to catch Morito. I'm certain Morito is praying that if he is caught, it will be I that gets him!"
Flushed to the ears by wild visions of success, Kiyomori stole a sidelong look at skeptical Mokunosukй. "When Morito finds he is cornered, he will think of me. I even feel that he's expecting me! Mokunosukй, when my father comes, tell him where I've gone."
The Northwest Gate was only a short distance away, and to allay Mokunosukй's fears, Kiyomori started out on foot, leaving his halberd behind.
The Imperial Palace stood in the north center of the city in a rectangular enclosure, about one mile by three quarters, containing various residential apartments, ceremonial halls, and the many departments of state. Immediately outside the enclosure were numerous small palaces and mansions of the nobility, as well as the university, which adjoined the South Gate. There were twelve gates to the enclosure and two additional side-gates—the Northeast Gate and the Northwest Gate, the latter entrance leading to the palace where Kesa-Gozen had once served.
Kiyomori felt there was sufficient reason to investigate this quarter. It was quite possible that both the outlaw and those who sheltered him would consider this spot immune from search. At this thought Kiyomori broke into a run. As he entered the wide, clean avenue flanked with pine trees, he heard shouts and repeated orders to stop. With an air of annoyance, Kiyomori looked back.
"I? . . ."
The Guards here were also on watch, he realized. He walked back deliberately toward a group of them.
"Go back! Get out!" the Guards bawled, blocking Kiyomori's path, not even troubling to ask his name.
Kiyomori stubbornly insisted: "I will pass! I come on urgent business." He raised his eyebrows. "Needless to say, I serve his majesty the ex-Emperor Toba. Why should I wish to disturb her highness?" he blustered, turning an angry red. The Guards thought him a belligerent little fellow, and the situation was fast getting out of hand; it was Kiyomori against some sixteen or seventeen Guards, when an elderly warrior, possibly a senior officer, appeared on his rounds and stood for a moment observing the altercation. Then he approached Kiyomori from the rear, struck him a resounding blow on his corselet, and addressed him as though he were a child:
"So, it's you, Heita? What's this spluttering? What's this all about—this impertinence?"
"Ah. . . ." Memories of that bleak wind in February, that sad, sad day, the gnawing of his empty stomach, and that galling money suddenly flashed across Kiyomori's mind. "Is it you, uncle? Indeed! And this is your force? I thought I recognized some of your retainers among them."
More than at the ridiculous figure he felt he presented, Kiyomori boiled with rage at the thought that these men had deliberately insulted him by pretending not to recognize him. He could never think of this uncle—nor his aunt—without seeing coins in his mind's eye; he had gone countless times to their residence at Horikawa to borrow money; listened to them abuse his parents; endured their criticisms and unending complaints. He reflected sourly how he must always seem like a penniless imp to this uncle. It was his fate to be always treated with contempt and dismissed as a fellow with a warped disposition.
"Come, Heita, what do you mean by 'indeed'? We haven't seen you at Horikawa for some time—not that your visits were ever welcome. . . . Your neglect, I must say, gives me pleasure."
Kiyomori wilted. He had been arrogantly asserting himself in the name of the Palace Guards and now he was ready to crawl into a hole. Putting away his pride and rancor, Kiyomori meekly appealed: "Is it—quite impossible?"
His uncle, meanwhile, obtained from his men a brief account of what had happened and guessed what Kiyomori was after.
"Impossible! Absolutely! What do you
Flushed to the ears by wild visions of success, Kiyomori stole a sidelong look at skeptical Mokunosukй. "When Morito finds he is cornered, he will think of me. I even feel that he's expecting me! Mokunosukй, when my father comes, tell him where I've gone."
The Northwest Gate was only a short distance away, and to allay Mokunosukй's fears, Kiyomori started out on foot, leaving his halberd behind.
The Imperial Palace stood in the north center of the city in a rectangular enclosure, about one mile by three quarters, containing various residential apartments, ceremonial halls, and the many departments of state. Immediately outside the enclosure were numerous small palaces and mansions of the nobility, as well as the university, which adjoined the South Gate. There were twelve gates to the enclosure and two additional side-gates—the Northeast Gate and the Northwest Gate, the latter entrance leading to the palace where Kesa-Gozen had once served.
Kiyomori felt there was sufficient reason to investigate this quarter. It was quite possible that both the outlaw and those who sheltered him would consider this spot immune from search. At this thought Kiyomori broke into a run. As he entered the wide, clean avenue flanked with pine trees, he heard shouts and repeated orders to stop. With an air of annoyance, Kiyomori looked back.
"I? . . ."
The Guards here were also on watch, he realized. He walked back deliberately toward a group of them.
"Go back! Get out!" the Guards bawled, blocking Kiyomori's path, not even troubling to ask his name.
Kiyomori stubbornly insisted: "I will pass! I come on urgent business." He raised his eyebrows. "Needless to say, I serve his majesty the ex-Emperor Toba. Why should I wish to disturb her highness?" he blustered, turning an angry red. The Guards thought him a belligerent little fellow, and the situation was fast getting out of hand; it was Kiyomori against some sixteen or seventeen Guards, when an elderly warrior, possibly a senior officer, appeared on his rounds and stood for a moment observing the altercation. Then he approached Kiyomori from the rear, struck him a resounding blow on his corselet, and addressed him as though he were a child:
"So, it's you, Heita? What's this spluttering? What's this all about—this impertinence?"
"Ah. . . ." Memories of that bleak wind in February, that sad, sad day, the gnawing of his empty stomach, and that galling money suddenly flashed across Kiyomori's mind. "Is it you, uncle? Indeed! And this is your force? I thought I recognized some of your retainers among them."
More than at the ridiculous figure he felt he presented, Kiyomori boiled with rage at the thought that these men had deliberately insulted him by pretending not to recognize him. He could never think of this uncle—nor his aunt—without seeing coins in his mind's eye; he had gone countless times to their residence at Horikawa to borrow money; listened to them abuse his parents; endured their criticisms and unending complaints. He reflected sourly how he must always seem like a penniless imp to this uncle. It was his fate to be always treated with contempt and dismissed as a fellow with a warped disposition.
"Come, Heita, what do you mean by 'indeed'? We haven't seen you at Horikawa for some time—not that your visits were ever welcome. . . . Your neglect, I must say, gives me pleasure."
Kiyomori wilted. He had been arrogantly asserting himself in the name of the Palace Guards and now he was ready to crawl into a hole. Putting away his pride and rancor, Kiyomori meekly appealed: "Is it—quite impossible?"
His uncle, meanwhile, obtained from his men a brief account of what had happened and guessed what Kiyomori was after.
"Impossible! Absolutely! What do you
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