# Tales from Old Japanese Dramas/The Battle of Ichi-no-tani

The Battle of Ichi-no-tani
From
The Ichi-no-tani Futaba Gunki
By
Namiki Sōsuké
The Battle of Ichi-no-tani
I
BOUT eight hundred years ago, a fierce war was waged between the two great clans, the Tairas and the Minamotos. The balance of fortune swayed some years towards the former family, and other years towards the latter. The stronger always ruled Japan with the reigning Emperor on their side. The Tairas, who had predominated for the previous twenty-five years, were at last driven out of Kyōto by the Minamotos. Kyōto was then the Imperial capital, and the expelled clan had been forced to take refuge in far-off Kyūshū. Afterwards they regained some of their pristine power, and came back to the province of Settsu. They formed a strong camp at Ichi-no-tani, a village on the shores of the Inland Sea, about fifty miles to the south-west of the metropolis. Nevertheless they were hardly in the position to make headway against the Minamotos.
​Yoritomo, the chieftain of the Minamoto clan, had a younger brother, named Yoshitsuné. This warrior was at the head of the Minamoto troops stationed at Kyōto. Yoritomo ordered him to proceed to Ichi-no-tani to give the Tairas the coup de grâce.
Yoshitsuné was not only a brave and sagacious general, but also a man of humane character. His father Yoshitomo had been put to death, and several of his brothers had been either killed or cruelly persecuted by the Tairas. Notwithstanding this, he entertained no little sympathy and compassion toward the hostile clan.
During that time, the celebrated poet-laureate, Lord Shunzei was living. One of his best pupils was a brave warrior named Taira-no-Tadanori, and many excellent poems were found among his compositions. He had fled from Kyōto with the rest of the Taira family and was now in the camp at Ichi-no-tani. He reflected, one day, that there was no possibility of his clan's winning a victory in the forthcoming battle. He was sure that they were doomed to destruction. If he could only be successful in gaining the honour of having one ​of his poems included in the Senzai-Shū or "Anthology for a Thousand Years," which his master was then collecting at the ex-Emperor's Go-Shirakawa's command, he should never regret falling in battle. With this determination he went stealthily back to Kyōto. When he arrived there, he called on Shunzei, and applied for the privilege of presenting a number of his best productions.
The poet expressed his hearty sympathy, and promised to think the matter over. After this Tadanori retraced his steps towards Ichi-no-tani. Shunzei did indeed fully recognize Tadanori's poetic talent. He thought that some of his poems deserved a place in the anthology. He could not help remembering, however, that as the Minamotos, the mortal enemies of the Tairas, were in the political ascendancy, and the latter had been declared "rebels," it might possibly offend the Minamotos if he were to grant Tadanori's request. Shunzei, therefore, thought it prudent to ask Yoshitsuné's opinion concerning the matter, and accordingly, he sent his daughter Kikuno-Mayé on the mission.
Yoshitsuné received from the young lady the ​tanzaku inscribed with one of Tadanori's masterpieces which read:
"Deep under weeds in ruin piled, Shiga's imperial towers decay; The lake's shores washed by wavelets mild With saddening murmur, night and day; But the wild cherry-trees of yore, That decked the royal pleasance fair, And witnessed grandeur seen no more, Still bloom in dazzling beauty rare."
The hero was struck with admiration at the poem. He said to Kikuno-Mayé:
"I have no objection to inserting such an excellent poem in the Senzai-Shū, my young lady. But there is a little matter I must think over before I can give any definite answer. Kindly leave this tanzaku with me. I will send my answer to both of you and Sir Tadanori, before long."
Taira-no-Atsumori was an extremely handsome and refined young nobleman, sixteen years of age. His mother Fuji-no-Kata had been an inmate of the ex-Emperor Go-Shirakawa's harem. While she was in his service, her health had become ​delicate. Notwithstanding this, Go-Shirakawa had married her to his councillor Taira-no-Tsunémori. Soon after, her son Atsumori was born to her. Therefore, though Atsumori had been brought up as Tsunénori's son, he was, in reality, an Imperial Prince. Yoshitsuné was well aware of these circumstances, and thought of sparing the young nobleman's life in the impending battle, in some secret way or other.
The day came for Yoshitstmé to set out on his march against the Tairas' camp. A large number of officers and men, clad in shining armour, gathered together at his headquarters. Yoshitsuné summoned to his presence two brave officers, Kumagai Noazané and Okabé Rokuyata. He then tied Tadanori's tanzaku to a branch of cherry-blossoms, which was arranged in a vase on the tokonoma or alcove, and addressed Rokuyata in these words:
"Before our army reaches Ichi-no-tani, you will go ahead and meet Taira-no-Tadanori, and tell him that his poem will be included in the Senzai-Shū, in compliance with his request. He is, however, one of the so-called 'rebels,' so we cannot attach his name to it. It shall be registered as ​'anonymous.' Present him with this branch of cherry-blossoms, tied with his tanzaku, and tell him that it signifies my acceptance of his poem. Don't fail to obey me, Rokuyata."
Yoshitsuné then produced a notice board.
"As you observe," he said to Naozané, "this notice reads: 'It is strictly prohibited to injure the cherry-blossoms. Any person breaking off one branch, shall be punished by having one of his fingers cut off.' I love and admire cherry-blossoms more than I can say. I have been told, that there are many beautiful cherry-trees at Ichi-no-tani, and I order you to set up this notice board under the cherry-trees before Atsumori's camp, and to take special care of them. I am sure, Naozané, that you fully understand my meaning. I am of the firm opinion that only a man of your thoughtfulness and mercy is equal to this task."
"I understand, my lord," was Naozané's reply.
"I shall carry out your orders to the best of my ability."
Yoshitsuné's command to Naozané was a poetic conundrum, signifying that Atsumori, who might well be likened unto beautiful cherry-blossoms, should not be scattered to death by the storm of ​battle. It was impossible for Yoshitsuné openly to give the order to Naozané, because Atsumori was one of the enemy. But Naozané readily took his hint, and made up his mind to spare the young nobleman's life. He had served the ex-Emperor sixteen years before. His wife, Sagami, had served Fuji-no-Kata as maid-of-honour, while the latter was still in Go-Shirakawa's harem, and both had received favours from Fuji-no-Kata. Therefore Noazané determined to save Atsumori, at any cost, to requite his former master's kindness.
II
In the village of Ubara, in the province of Settsu, lived an old woman named Hayashi. She was formerly the wife of a certain Taira samurai. After her husband had run away, and his whereabouts become unknown, she entered the service of the poet Shunzei, and became nurse to his daughter Kikuno-Mayé. When her charge grew to be a young woman, Hayashi left her position and retired to her village. There she was now leading a lonely life.
One evening, a belated traveller knocked at her door and asked her to give him shelter for the night. She granted his request, and both were pleasantly surprised to find that they were old friends. He proved to be none other than Tairano-Tadanori on his way back to Ichi-no-tani from calling on his master Lord Shunzei. Hayashi welcomed him heartily, and they chatted about what had happened to them since they had last met.
"Well," she said with sighs, "I have heard of ​your relations with Lady Kikuno-Mayé. If it had not been for the war between the Tairas and the Minamotos, your marriage would have already taken place. My hearty sympathy is with you!"
Shortly afterwards, Tadanori retired into an inner room to rest for the night. When the hours were advanced, a violent storm broke out, in the midst of which was heard a hard knocking at the gate.
Hayashi awoke. "Who is there?" she cried.
"It is I—Kikuno-Mayé, my nurse. Excuse my disturbing your sleep."
When she heard the answer, the old woman leaped down to the courtyard, and opened the door.
"I am glad to see you," she said in tones of wonder. "How is it that you have come here alone through the storm at midnight?"
The girl wept. "Well," she said, "I have walked so far in pursuit of Lord Tadanori. Alas! I have been unable to overtake him. I don't know this neighbourhood well, so I have been wandering here and there in the darkness. It became late, and I had lost my way. However, with great difficulty I at last found my way to ​your house. Now I cannot hope to overtake Lord Tadanori. What shall I do?"
"Be of good cheer, my lady. Lord Tadanori came here some while ago, and is still within."
"Is that true? I am very glad! Please let me see him quickly."
"Lord Tadanori is resting in the inner room. You can go and see him yourself."
Kikuno-Mayé went joyfully into the room.
Shortly afterwards a noise was heard within, and Kikuno-Mayé rushed out in tears. Hayashi was wonder-struck, and asked the reason. The girl explained that Tadanori had unkindly proposed that she should give him up, and return to her father's house. This filled her with sorrow and anger. The old woman vainly tried to soothe her. She wept unceasingly, and complained that her lover was cold-hearted. At that moment Tadanori came in.
"I fear that I seem unkind," he said, "but I assure you that it is entirely for your sake, and for your father's, dear Kikuno-Mayé. The Tairas are sure to be defeated in the coming battle, and I shall die in the fray. I am, therefore, convinced that you had better give me up, and return to your ​home as soon as possible. I owe your father a very great deal, so if I take you with me, I am sure he will be suspected of taking sides with the Tairas, and then who can tell what punishment may befall him. I can't bear the thought of my benefactor suffering on my account. Weigh these reasons well, and return home for your father's, your own, and my sake. Frankly, I do not like to part from you, but there is no help for it. Please control your emotion, and listen to reason. I urge you to follow my advice."
"Oh, no!" she sobbed, clutching his sleeve, "how can I part from you when you are going to fight to the death? I will accompany you wherever you go. I swear I will never give you up. Permit me to share your lot in life or in death, my dear Lord Tadanori."
Tadanori was at a loss to know how to deal with Kikuno-Mayé, and Hayashi was equally puzzled how to comfort her.
At this moment the sound of war-cries was wafted in by the wind. A little later the sound was followed by the random beating of bells and drums. A party of soldiers appeared on the scene and their captain rushed up to the gate.
​"Open!" he cried aloud. "I, Kajiwara Kagétaka, have had secret information that Taira-no-Tadanori is hiding in this house, and have come to take him prisoner. My troops have completely surrounded the dwelling, and there is no means of escape. I order him, therefore, to come out and become my prisoner peacefully."
Tadanori was not at all frightened. He bade Kikuno-Mayé and Hayashi keep within, and unsheathed his great sword.
"Pooh, Kagétaka!" he sneered, "your meanness and cowardice are past belief! Why did you not proceed to the battlefield instead of surrounding me with so many troops when I am alone? I am not such a weakling as to allow myself to be easily caught by you! Approach, and I will show you in what direction my abilities lie!"
So crying, the hero threw himself among the foes and fought desperately, now cutting and kicking, and then trampling on them. The latter were seized with fear, and retreated one after another. Kagétaka was also, in spite of his threatening attitude, seized with fear, and took to his heels.
Tadanori paused to take breath, and soon ​afterwards the sound of bells and drums and war-cries was again heard.
"Confound it!" he said to himself, sighing deeply. "Kagétaka must be coming again with a large army. If I were on the battle-field, I should not fear even thousands of foes, but how can I defend myself against such a large force when I am in so small a house? Alas! on the one hand I am not certain whether I shall ever realize my dearest wish concerning my poem; on the other, it seems that I am to die an inglorious death at the hands of a craven fellow! It is a pity beyond expression!"
Presently a warrior of commanding appearance came in sight. He was not in armour, as had been expected, but in full dress. This consisted of a suhō, a daimon, and a nagabakama. He was none other than Okabé Rokuyata, an officer of Geheral Yoshitsuné, who was referred to in the opening chapter. He saluted Tadanori politely, and with much grace.
"I am delighted to see you, Lord Tadanori," he began. "As the coming battle is to be fought in order to decide the destiny of the Tairas and the Minamotos, we ought to fight openly on the ​battle-field. General Yoshitsuné is, therefore, extremely sorry to hear of Kajiwam Kagétaka's mean deed in privately attacking you when you were in your defenceless condition. But now, as to my message. General Yoshitsuné admired your poem, selected by Lord Shunzei, very much. In accordance with your desire, he has ordered it to be included in the Senzai-Shū. But unfortunately you are branded as a 'rebel.' It is therefore considered improper that you should give your name, so your poem is inserted as 'anonymous.'"—With these words he offered Tadanori the tanzaku tied to a branch of cherry-blossoms.—"Here is a proof of the fact. General Yoshitsuné begs to present this to you, sir."
When Tadanori heard the news, his joy knew no bounds. He received the tanzaku with great reverence.
"I accept this gift," he, said, "from General Yoshitsuné, and am deeply grateful."
"To speak frankly," continued Tadanori, "I feared that my poem would probably be rejected from motives of hostility. It has been accepted, however, through the sympathy and magnanimity of General Yoshitsuné. This is the greatest ​honour that could possibly be given me. My great wish is attained, so I have nothing else to desire in this life. Taking into consideration that my days are numbered, I prefer being taken captive by you, an illustrious hero, to dying a disgraceful death at the hands of unknown soldiers"—he put his hands behind his back—"You are at liberty to bind me, sir."
"No, no," answered Rokuyata laughing, "I haven't come to arrest you. Shall we not fight each other on the battle-field? Do you think I am as mean a coward as Kagétaka?"
"Excuse my thoughtless words. Your generosity and that of General Yoshitsuné overwhelm me indeed. You are both noble samurai."
At this moment, the crowing of cocks proclaimed the dawn. Rokuyata rose to his feet.
"It will soon be morning," he said. "If you walk alone towards Ichi-no-tani, you may encounter further trouble. I shall conduct you to the camp. Please be in readiness."
Rokuyata gave orders to his soldiers, who brought before Tadanori a beautifully caparisoned steed, which had been brought for the purpose. Tadanori thanked him warmly, and without a ​moment's hesitation seized the horse's mane, and sprang upon its back.
Kikuno-Mayé, who had been listening to all this, thought that this was the last moment she would ever see her lover. She ran out. "Wait one moment, Lord Tadanori," she cried.
Hayashi stood in front of her, and tried to conceal her. Rokuyata instantly perceived the truth. He cut off the right sleeve of Tadanori's robe, and handed it to the old woman. "I beg," said he, "to offer you this in acknowledgment of your having kindly lodged Lord Tadanori. If you find it of no use to yourself, please give it to anybody else who may desire it, madame."
This was intended as a hint that the sleeve was for Kikuno-Mayé, as a memento of her lover. The passionate girl almost burst into tears of gratitude. Tadanori carrying the branch of cherry-blossoms on his back, set out on his journey guarded by Rokuyata and his troops; but his heart remained with his sweetheart.
Tadanori, carrying the branch of cherry-blossoms on his back, set out on his journey
​between the two clans, in which the Tairas were completely defeated. During the first part of the battle Tadanori fought with great courage, and an entire company of the Minamotos' army began to give way before his mighty strokes. Suddenly a brave officer rushed to rally the wavering troops. It proved to be Rokuyata, who declared his name and challenged Tadanori to single combat.
"I am extremely glad to meet you here on the battle-field, Sir Okabé," replied Tadanori. "A thousand thanks for your kindness the other day. I take great pleasure in accepting your challenge."
They fought violently for a good while, but as they were evenly matched in fencing, they arrived at no result. They then threw down their weapons, alighted from their horses, and closed with each other. At last Tadanori, who possessed greater muscular strength, threw Rokuyata down, and held him at his mercy; but he hesitated to kill his benefactor. At this moment one of Rokuyata's retainers ran to his rescue, and with one blow cut off Tadanori's right arm. Tadanori begged Rokuyata to kill him immediately; whereupon Rokuyata burst into tears of sympathy, and ​reluctantly struck off his head. He then proceeded to carefully examine the hero's person in the hope of finding something in the way of a written will. Instead of this, however, he found in his pocket a tanzaku with the following poem:
"By darkness overta'en and spent, Sore, sore, forspent and travelworn The cherry-trees their shelter lent, A refuge sweet to me forlorn. As hosts and friends their blossoms fair To-night will solace all my care."
He was struck with the great beauty of the poem, and filled with admiration for Tadanori, because he had kept his poetic mood even in the midst of war. He afterwards kindly sent the tanzaku to Lord Shunzei.
This poem is still famous. It is familiar to every Japanese as the hero's masterpiece.
III
Atsumori, his foster-father Tsunémori, and his mother Fuji-no-Kata, who had shared the lot of the rest of the Taira clan, were now living at a temporary residence at Fukuhara, not far from Ichi-no-tani.
Tsunémori had an adopted daughter. Her name was Tamaori, and she was a beautiful damsel, fifteen years of age. He and his wife had brought her up from childhood. They loved her dearly, and intended her for Atsumori's wife.
The girl's real father, Tokitada, was a Taira. He was a mean man, and had early deserted the Taira clan whose fortunes were on the wane, and had gone over to the Minamoto clan, which was rising in importance. Now that the Tairas were on the verge of ruin, Tokitada had decided to take Tamaori back from Tsunémori's hands in order to marry her to Hirayama Suyéshigé, a samurai belonging to the Minamoto clan, in accordance with the latter's earnest proposal. He therefore ​sent a samurai and two footmen to Tsunémori's residence, to secure the restoration of his daughter.
When the message arrived, Tsunémori and Fuji-no-Kata were both astonished and angry.
At last they resigned themselves to the unreasonable demand, and told the messenger to take Tamaori with him at once. The man caught the girl by the hand, and proceeded to place her in a palanquin which had been brought for the purpose. Suddenly she snatched his sword from him, and quick as lightning cut his shoulder. He fell to the ground with a groan. She sprang at him, and stabbed him in the throat, and he died immediately. When the footmen saw this sight they took to their heels.
Tsunémori and Fuji-no-Kata were struck with astonishment and admiration at Tamaori's brave deed. Insomuch as the girl had proved her devotedness and firm resolve, they thought it was their duty to marry her to Atsumori, as soon as possible.
To Tamaori's boundless joy, they immediately made the young couple exchange cups of marriage.
After the ceremony was over, Tsunémori respectfully prostrated himself before Atsumori.
​"Lord Atsumori," he said, with tears in his voice, "you may have heard that you are not my son, but the son of His Majesty the ex-Emperor. His Majesty, I am sure, has been very anxious about your safety since the outbreak of the present war! I think you had better go back at once to Kyōto, with your mother and Tamaori, and call on your Imperial father as soon as arrangements can be made. Your filial duty demands this of you, I am sure. Pray make immediate preparations for your journey, Lord Atsumori."
A look of amazement came over Atsumori's face.
"Oh, no, my dear father!" he replied. "I may be the ex-Emperor's son, but you have brought me up since my birth. Your kindness to me is higher than the mountain, and deeper than the sea! How can I forsake my father, and take refuge in a place of safety, when the Tairas are on the eve of destruction? Nothing is further from my mind. Please allow me to accompany you to battle in some capacity or another, and share your lot, my father."
"It would seem at first that you are right in saying so. But you must remember that one's ​duty to one's father is far greater than one's duty to one's foster-father. This is even greater when your father is an Emperor,"—Tsunémori assumed a look of firm determination—"If you do not listen to my advice, I am bound to commit seppuku as a token of apology to His Majesty the ex-Emperor."
Hereupon Atsumori reluctantly gave his consent, and retired into an inner room with Fuji-no-Kata and Tamaori, saying that he would hasten to prepare himself for his journey. Tsunémori was thus freed from his anxiety regarding his family. He therefore made up his mind to leave for the camp at Ichi-no-tani. At that moment a messenger came from the headquarters, urging him to go there without any delay. He wished with great thoughtfulness to save his family from unnecessary tears, so he departed with the messenger without so much as bidding them farewell.
Fuji-no-Kata was quite unaware of this, and shortly afterwards returned to the parlour for a few minutes' farewell talk with her husband. But she was surprised and disappointed to find that he was not there.
"Alas!" cried she. "Lord Tsunémori must ​have gone to the battle without telling us! Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?"
Tamaori, hearing her cries, rushed in. They both looked at each other in amazement and sorrow. Suddenly a loud neigh and a clattering of hoofs were heard.
The next moment Atsumori appeared on horseback, clad in red armour, and carrying a bow and arrows. On seeing him, Tamaori took a halberd down from the wall.
"Farewell, mother!" she said, springing down into the courtyard and standing beside Atsumori's horse.
"I cannot understand this," said Fuji-no-Kata to Atsumori. "What is the meaning of your attire, my son? Your father commanded you to return to the Capital."
"Yes, that is so," replied Atsumori, bowing his head. "But all the Tairas are determined to fight to the last. How, then, can I be so disloyal as to return to the Capital alone? I am determined to go to Ichi-no-tani, and die a warrior's death."
"Oh, that is indeed well spoken!" said Fuji-no-Kata, her spirits rising. "Your brave words fill me with delight! You are indeed my son!"
​"You must not go to the battle, Tamaori," said Atsumori, "your place is at my mother's side."
"Your words are unkind, Atsumori Sama! We have only just exchanged our marriage cups, which we looked forward to for so long. Now you are going to battle, and wish to leave me behind. Wherever you go, I will accompany you. If my presence is a trouble to you, please kill me, and then go."
So saying, she caught his saddle, clung to his stirrup, and wept bitterly. Fuji-no-Kata was filled with compassion for her.
"Atsumori," she said, "you would be quite justified in taking Tamaori with you. As you know, all the Tairas have taken their wives and children with them. You had better set out with her immediately."
Tamaori was overjoyed to hear this, and caught Atsumori's reins.
Atsumori found that it was now impossible to refuse her entreaty, and bade her follow him.
"Farewell, mother," he cried and departed gallantly for Ichi-no-tani with his bride.
​Soon afterwards a number of hostile soldiers burst into the house.
"Our Lord Hirayama has sent us," they cried, "with orders to carry away Lady Tamaori. Deliver her to us at once. If you offer the slightest resistance, you shall all die!"
Three of Fuji-no-Kata's maids, who heard these words, burst into hearty laughs. "What insolence!" they retorted. "How can we deliver you Lady Tamaori? She has just been married to Lord Atsumori. Besides, her Ladyship is absent. Don't waste any more of your time here, or you may be hurt. You had better go quickly."
When they had spoken this warning, they assumed the offensive. One of them brandished a halberd, another produced a long sword, and the third drew out a dagger. The soldiers were filled with fear at the skill with which the women wielded their weapons. Some of them were severely wounded, some mortally, and the rest took to flight.
IV
The Tairas' camp extended from Ichi-no-tani on the west to Ikuta on the east. The rear of the camp was protected by a steep cliff, and in front of it stretched the seashore. From the bluff down to the beach, the position was fortified with a strong stockade. Over it, numerous red banners were streaming in the wind. Atsumori was guarding one important post, as substitute for his foster-father Tsunémori.
It was late one cold windy night. The moon shone dimly. Kojirō, the son of Kumagai Naozané, suddenly appeared in front of the gate of Atsumori's post. The young warrior had forced his way hither, spurred on by the ardent ambition to distinguish himself at the very first battle he had ever joined in. He had come along narrow passes, stumbling over stones, and entanglements of roots. As he desired to cut his way into the camp before any comrade of his followed him, he searched and searched about for some weak point through which to break. This was of no avail. ​At that moment the sound of a flute and a koto or zither was heard from the inner part of the camp. As the wind had abated, and the waves subsided, the plaintive yet captivating strains were clearly audible. Kojirō unconsciously paused and listened intently for a while. "Those people have good taste," he thought to himself. "My parents told me that all the Tairas were tender-hearted, refined nobles. I find now that their words were not in any way exaggerated. The Tairas' refinement must be great for they keep quiet to-night on the eve of battle, and enjoy themselves with music,"—he burst into tears—"what an evil lot is mine, that I was born a rough warrior, and have to fight against such elegant men!"
Suddenly from behind, Kojirō heard the clattering of hoofs, and Hirayama Suyéshigé appeared on horseback. When he saw Kojirō, he alighted. "Hello, Kojirō," he said. "I have come here with the intention of winning for myself the reputation of being the first fighter. But out of admiration for your brave purpose, I abandon the honour in your favour. You must, therefore, cut your way inside the gate without a moment's ​delay. If you hesitate, I will do so myself. You must be quick, young hero!"
The spirited youth, thus incited, replied: "Many thanks, Hirayama. I shall avail myself of your kindness."
He then stepped up to the gate, and knocking at it, cried in loud tones: "Within there! I am Kojirō, the son of Kumagai Naozané! I have come as the first fighter. I invite you, the Taira warriors, to meet me in single combat."
At the sound of his challenge, a sudden stir was heard within. The enemy opened the gate.
"Most certainly, sir," they cried. Kojirō immediately drew his great sword, and rushed in.
A little later, Kumagai Naozané, who seemed concerned about his son's adventure, ran up. He was greatly surprised to see Suyéshigé standing passive in front of the entrance.
"Is that you, Hirayama?" asked he. "Have you seen my son, Kojirō?"
"Yes, he was here a few moments ago," answered Suyéshigé. "I thought it dangerous for him to venture among the enemy, so I advised him to give up the idea. But he utterly defied ​my words. The young man desperately fought his way into the camp."
When he heard these words, Naozané forthwith rushed in frantically like a "lion deprived of his cub." Suyéshigé was rejoiced at the success of his crafty plan.
"Pooh!" he whispered to himself, "Naozané and his son are now at the mercy of the enemy. They are 'caught like mice in a trap.' They are both proud of their bravery and loyalty, but are now doomed to destruction. By the time they have fought and been killed, I will march here with my large regiment. I shall surely then be victorious."
At this moment a sound of many voices was heard from within. The treacherous samurai was startled to hear this. He therefore assumed a defensive attitude. The next moment Naozané stepped out of the gate, supporting his son by the arm. "Hirayama," he said, "my son is wounded. I must carry him back to our camp for treatment. You may stay here and fight to your heart's content." With these words he ran away as quick as lightning, bearing his son in his arms.
Suyéshigé was disappointed at his frustrated ​hope. He realized his dangerous situation. He therefore sprang on his steed, intending to go back to his camp.
A moment later, several soldiers with drawn swords sallied out of the gate, and surrounded him. A spirited combat at once ensued. Then Atsumori, gallantly clad in beautiful armour, rode forth, and cut at Suyéshigé. The latter found it impossible to fight any longer against such odds, so he spurred his horse, and beat a retreat. Atsumori alone galloped in hot pursuit of the fleeing warrior.
For some time Tamaori ran about along the beach in search of the young cavalier.
"Atsumori Sama! Atsumori Sama!" she cried. "It is dangerous for you to ride alone through the darkness of night. For pity's sake come back!"
By this time, day had begun to dawn. Suyéshigé, who had succeeded in making good his escape, was highly delighted to meet unexpectedly at this spot, the beautiful maiden for whom he had longed so passionately.
He alighted, ran up to her, and burst forth into the eloquence of ardent love. He said that as he had received a promise from her father, he would ​take her with him as his wife. He tried to make her mount his horse. But Tamaori turned a deaf ear to all his professions of love. The impudent lover, however, still more fervently urged his suit, and attempted to take her by force. The girl was filled with despair and anger, and drawing her sword, she cut at him. He caught her wrist.
"Come, girl!" he threatened. "Answer me promptly. Will you be my wife or not. If you refuse, I shall take your life."
"May you be for ever cursed," said she. "You may kill me if you choose. Oh! Why doesn't some stronger warrior come and kill this beast?"
"This is more than I can stand," said Suyéshigé, whose patience was now exhausted. "I would rather kill this hussy than let her remain 'a flower in another's possession.'"
With these words he drew a dagger, and stabbed her in the breast. She immediately uttered an agonized groan, and fell back senseless. A moment later war-shouts were heard a little way off. Seized with sudden fear, he leaped on his horse and fled away.
"You are a General of the Taira army, are you not?" he asked, holding up an open fan
​degrees to the seashore, and had just embarked on the ships prepared for the purpose, and set sail for Shikoku. Atsumori had pursued Suyéshigé, but to his disappointment, had lost sight of him. He therefore rode back to his camp to join in the embarkation. It was too late, however, and not a single ship remained. He thereupon dashed on his horse into the waves, and attempted to reach the retreating ships.
At that moment someone hailed him from the beach. It was Kumagai Naozané, mounted on horseback. "You are a General of the Taira army, are you not?" he asked, holding up an open fan. "Only a coward shows his back to the enemy. Come back, and try your skill in a fight against me."
It was impossible for Atsumori to hesitate when addressed by one of the enemy. Without a moment's delay, he turned his horse back, and went ashore. Naozané rode to meet him. Both warriors drew their swords, and struck at each other for some minutes, their blades glittering in the rising sun. But as their combat was undecisive, Atsumori threw down his sword for a close fight. Naozané was filled with admiration ​for his adversary's bravery, and also threw down his sword. No sooner had they grappled with each other, than they fell heavily to the ground. In an instant Naozané was holding Atsumori down.
When Naozané had Atsumori well under him, he said in kindly tones:
"Now that your fate is sealed, you must declare your name, in order that I may perform an exploit in killing you. If there is anything you wish done after your death, tell it to me frankly. I shall be pleased to send word to your family. As far as I am concerned, I am Kumagai Naozané, one of General Yoshitsuné's retainers."
"Your kindness fills me with gratitude," answered Atsumori in clear tones, indicative of satisfaction and peace of mind. "I am very fortunate to die by the sword of such a tender-hearted warrior as you! I am Atsumori, the son of Councillor Tsunémori. I fear that the news of my death will grieve my parents. I should deem it a kindness if you would send my corpse to them, Kumagai."
​"If I spare your life," he said, "it will make no difference to the victory of the Minamoto army. Fortunately nobody is looking at us. You had better make your escape as quickly as you can." So saying, Naozané prepared to take leave of Atsumori. Suddenly Hirayama Suyéshigé appeared on a hill behind them.
"Stay, Kumagai," he cried. "You are a double-hearted villain. You cannot really intend to save the life of a Taira General whom you have beaten down! Don't stir there!"
Naozané paused on hearing this cruel rebuke, and for a moment did not know what to do.
"Don't trouble yourself, sir," said the young nobleman in mild tones. "The Tairas are doomed to ruin. I am sure to meet a disgraceful death some day or other, even if I am saved here. I much prefer to die by your sword. Kill me quickly, and then you will be cleared from the suspicion of your associate."
With these words he bent his head forward, and calmly awaited decapitation. Naozané saw that he had no alternative, so wiping his tears he rose to his feet.
​"Now, permit me," he said. There was a flash of steel, and the next moment Atsumori's head fell from his shoulders.
Naozané held up the bloody head in his arms. He then cried in tones broken with sobs, "I, Kumagai Naozané, have taken the head of Atsumori, a famous general of the Taira clan."
Then a faint voice was heard to say, "Who has killed Atsumori Sama? I can hardly believe such unhappy news. Let me see his face before I die."
It was Tamaori, who was lying on the beach, writhing in her death agonies. Naozané approached the dying girl. "Who is it that longs for Lord Atsumori?"
"I am Atsumori's wife Tamaori. Let me see his head, sir."
Taking compassion on her, the warrior handed her the head.
"Is this my Atsumori?" she said sobbing. "I long for a sight of his face, but I cannot see any longer." She closed her eyes, and pressed the head against her face, and embraced it. But her strength quickly failed her, until at last she expired.
​When Naozané saw the pitiful sight of such a beautiful couple, cruelly cut off in the bloom of youth, he stood for a few moments, stupefied with sorrow.
V
The question to be considered now is whether Kumagai Naozané actually killed Atsumori or not. If he had done so, he had disregarded General Yoshitsuné's instructions which had been hinted at on the notice board regarding cherry-blossoms. He could hardly have done this, for he was distinguished both for loyalty to the Imperial family, and for his sympathetic nature. If he did not kill the real Atsumori, who could it have been that he had killed on the beach of Ichi-no-tani?
In front of Naozané's camp at Ichi-no-tani, there stood a young cherry-tree which was now in full bloom. Under the tree stood Yoshitsuné's notice board, "It is strictly prohibited to injure the cherry-blossoms. Any one cutting off one branch shall be punished by having one finger cut off."
One day a middle-aged woman called at Naozané's camp. She was his wife Sagami. She had come from her home in the far-off province of Musashi, in order to see her husband and her ​son, Kojirō. Naozané was out, and Kojirō was not to be seen.
While she was talking about her husband and her son with a samurai, who was in charge of the camp in Naozané's absence, there suddenly arose a noise outside the entrance. Then Atsumori's mother, Fuji-no-Kata, rushed into the camp, hotly pursued by the Minamoto soldiers. Sagami ran out in suprise, to meet her. They both looked into each other's face.
"You are Madame Fuji-no-Kata, are you not?" asked Sagami.
"And you, I believe, are Sagami."
Both were exceedingly delighted to meet each other, thus unexpectedly. As was previously mentioned, Sagami had served Fuji-no-Kata as maid-of-honour, sixteen years before, and Naozané had served the ex-Emperor at the same time. But at that time, Naozané's surname had been Sataké, so Fuji-no-Kata did not know that the famous Naozané and her former maid's husband were one and the same man. Therefore, as she talked with Sagami, she was amazed to learn the truth. It was Sataké who had killed her son Atsumori. He was her mortal enemy. She was ​determined to be revenged on him for her son's death. She was almost overcome with sorrow and anger. She asked Sagami to remember their old relations of mistress and maid, and to assist her in her act of revenge. Sagami for a moment was at a loss to know what to say in reply. At last she decided that she would await her husband's return, and after she had learned under what circumstances he had killed Atsumori, she would decide her attitude. While she was thus trying to console Fuji-no-Kata, Kajiwara Kagétaka, the mean samurai who had tried to capture Tadanori, came in, accompanied by an old stone mason named Midaroku. He said that, with Naozané's assistance, he intended to examine the suspicious man who pretended to erect tombstones in memory of the Tairas who had fallen in battle. Sagami ushered him into the inner room, asking him to await her husband's return.
Soon after, Naozané returned and was surprised to see his wife.
"What! You here?" he asked with a look of displeasure.
"I felt anxious about Kojirō," she replied. "I wanted to obtain information about him, so I ​walked farther and farther, until I found myself in the Capital. When I arrived there, I heard that the battle was at its height. My motherly affection at last induced me to turn my steps here."
"Pshaw!" interrupted Naozané angrily. "When a warrior goes to battle, he cannot expect to return alive. What would you have done if Kojirō had fallen on the field?"
"I should be filled with joy, if he, in his first battle, had fallen fighting with a distinguished warrior."
"Kojirō was spurred by the ambition of gaining the fame of being the first fighter. He therefore singly cut his way into the Taira camp. He was wounded, but——"
"He was wounded? Was his wound trifling or severe? Was he mortally wounded?"
"Would you be grieved if you heard that he was mortally wounded?"
"No, if I thought that he had fought so hard as to be wounded, I could not fail to be joyful. I should not sorrow at all."
"I carried the wounded youth in my arms, and took him back to my camp. When I was again ​going to the enemy's camp, I killed Lord Atsumori, a young Taira General."
Sagami was taken aback at hearing these words. Fuji-no-Kata had overheard this, and rushed forth with a drawn dagger.
"Prepare for death, enemy of my son," she cried, stabbing at Naozané.
The surprised hero caught the lady by the arm.
"Who are you?" he roared with a look of fury, "that call me 'enemy.'"
"Oh, my husband," said his wife. "Be more courteous. This lady is Madame Fuji-no-Kata."
Naozané, amazed, leaped back and made a low obeisance to Fuji-no-Kata. The lady burst into tears.
"Although you killed him in battle," she said, "it was cruel of you to take the life of a mere stripling like my son, Naozané"—she raised her dagger again—"Sagami, assist me in my stroke of revenge!"
"Wait just a moment, madame," said Sagami, with an anxious look. "I am sure, my husband, that you had some profound reason for killing Lord Atsumori, of whose birth you are well-informed. Pray tell us your reason, as quickly as you can."
​Naozané drew himself up with dignity. "Madame," he said, "I will remind you that the present war is being conducted in accordance with an Imperial edict for the subjugation of the Tairas. It is not a private affair. We are not allowed to make any distinction of persons. You must not blame me if I have dared to kill Lord Atsumori. I did my best to spare his life, but——"
He thereupon gave them a detailed account of the circumstances under which he had been obliged to kill the young nobleman. After hearing it, Fuji-no-Kata quite understood the situation, and her anger was much pacified.
"Madame Fuji-no-Kata shotild not stay here any longer," said Naozané. "You must conduct her to some place of safety."
He rose to his feet with the kubi-oké—case for containing a head—in his hand.
"With your leave, madame, I will take Lord Atsumori's head to the headquarters, for General Yoshitsuné's inspection."
"One moment, husband," said Sagami, catching Naozané by the sleeve. "Pray allow Madame to glance at Lord Atsumori's face. It will be the last opportunity she will have of a glimpse of it ​in this life." Fuji-no-Kata added her entreaties for a glance at the head.
"I deeply regret that I cannot obey your orders," Naozané said sternly. "An official identification of the head must be made before I can show it privately to anyone." He pushed both women aside, and stepped outside. At that moment a voice was heard.
"Naozané," it said, "you will be spared the trouble of taking Lord Atsumori's head to the headquarters. Yoshitsuné will inspect it here." Yoshitsuné himself then appeared on the scene. Naozané respectfully prostrated himself before him.
"I thought it strange and suspicious," said Yoshitsuné, "that you have not only delayed to present the head for my inspection, but you also abruptly asked to be allowed to retire from the army before the end of the battle. I therefore stealthily came here, and saw all that has just happened. I will now make haste to inspect the head."
Naozané ran out, and pulled out the notice board under the cherry-tree. He then placed Atsumori's head on it, and set it before Yoshitsuné, saying in tremulous tones:
Mr. Kōshirō as Kumagai
​"Will your lordship deign to inspect this head, which I have taken, so far as I can judge, in accordance with your instructions. Tell me, I beg, if I have hit the mark, or if I have erred, my lord."
Yoshitsuné made a careful examination of the head.
"Oh, well done, Naozané," he said, bursting into tears. "This is indeed Atsumori's head. You have rightly judged how much I love the cherry-blossoms. You have my heartiest sympathy and admiration. Now, the bereaved relatives may take a farewell look at the head."
"Come, wife," said Naozané, handing the head to Sagami.
"Let Madame Fuji-no-Kata see Lord Atsumori's head."
Sagami received the head. She gave one glance at it, and immediately became speechless with consternation. Fuji-no-Kata was also struck dumb with horror. Sagami's dismay was not to be wondered at. The head was not that of Atsumori, but of her own son Kojirō. Atsumori, who had been believed to have been killed, was alive, while Kojirō who had been supposed to be living was dead. But they were puzzled to know how ​and when Naozané had substituted Kojirō for Atsumori.
Then Naozané with fast falling tears, gave the required explanation. After he had solved Yoshitsuné's riddle on the notice board, he had determined to save Atsumori at the sacrifice of his beloved son, who had heartily joined in his father's scheme, and had willingly offered himself up for the sake of loyalty. Naozané had let Kojirō cut his way singly into the Taira camp, merely as a means to accomplish his purpose. He himself had followed his son among the enemy with the pretence of saving him. He had carried Atsumori, dressed in Kojirō's armour, to his camp, on the pretext that he was wounded. By that time he had substituted Kojirō for Atsumori. Therefore it was Kojirō disguised as Atsumori who had fought with Hirayama Suyéshigé, and had made him take to flight. It was also the disguised Kojirō whom Naozané had killed on the beach of Ichi-no-tani, addressing him as Lord Atsumori, in the most polite language, and behaving most courteously towards him. He had done this purposely, so that neither his enemy, nor his comrades might perceive the truth. Briefly, Naozané had ​skilfully fulfilled Yoshitstmé's instructions to secretly save Atsumori.
Naozané's pathetic story overwhelmed all his listeners. When he had finished Kagétaka, who had brought in the stone-mason some time before, suddenly appeared on the scene.
"I have overheard," he cried, "that both Lord Yoshitstmé and Naozané have traitorously saved Atsumori, a general of the enemy. His Excellency Lord Yoritomo shall at once be informed of this." He began to turn his steps outward. Suddenly a dart came flashing through the air, and lodged in his throat. He fell dead on the spot. The next moment the old stone-mason appeared.
"It is I who have caused the death of this rascally nuisance," he said. "I did it in order to set you all at ease. Farewell, I will see you again." With these words he prepared to depart. Yoshitsuné bade him stop.
"Old man," he said, "before you go, I have something to present you with. Here it is, you must take great care of it."
He pointed to a large armour-chest placed in the alcove.
​"Many thanks, my lord," replied the mason, "but may I not examine the contents before I accept it?"
He removed the lid, and looked into the chest. He at once started back in amazement, and then quickly replaced the cover with an anxious look. The coffer contained the delicate young warrior Atsumori, whose concealment therein, the sagacious Yoshitsuné had perceived.
Mr. Yaozō as Kumagai
​Fuji-no-Kata back to Kyōto. The old samurai wept for gratitude.
Naozané, having killed his beloved son, was weary of the military profession. He resolved to forsake the world, and spend the remainder of his days in praying for the soul of the deceased. That very day he had obtained Yoshitsuné's permission to retire from the army. He thereupon became a Buddhist priest, and prepared to start on a pilgrimage to the holy places throughout Japan. His sorrow-stricken wife was also weary of life, and became a nun, with the determination of accompanying her husband. Both were on the point of setting out on their journey, when they looked at each other, and calculated Kojirō's age.
"Alas!" they exclaimed, "these sixteen years have passed away like a dream."
They again burst into tears.