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of the cloistered sovereigns,^[1] which were situated within the same area, that it was scarcely possible to move, but among all those who thronged to the court, there was not a single familiar face.

The Emperor Godaigo was still held captive at Rokuhara. Along about the second moon, when the skies were serene and lightly veiled in mist, and the gently blowing spring breezes brought from the eaves the nostalgic fragrance of plum blossoms, so melancholy was his cast of mind that even the clear notes of the thrush sounded harshly in his ears. Their situations were different, of course, but one could not help thinking of some neglected court lady in the women’s palace at the Chinese court. Perhaps it was with the intent of consoling him, now that the lengthening of the days made it all the harder for him to pass his time, that the Empress sent him his lute, together with this poem written on a scrap of paper:

omoiyare chiri no mi tsumoru  yotsu no o ni harai mo aezu kakaru namida wo

Turn your thoughts to me, And behold these, my tears, Too thick to brush away; They fell on the strings of the lute When I saw how thick the dust lay.

The Emperor, understanding that these must have been her actual feelings, was deeply saddened, and the tears coursed down his face like raindrops. He wrote in reply:

kakitateshi ne wo tachihatete kimi kouru namida no tama no  o to zo narikeru

When I plucked the notes After many months of silence, I yearned for you, And the notes became cords On which to thread my tears.

Just at this time there arrived in Kyoto an emissary from Kamakura named Nagai Takafuyu. His family had been important samurai in Kamakura since the days of General Yoshitomo, and al-

1. At the time two emperors who had abdicated and taken Buddhist orders were living in the capital—Gofushimi (1288–1336) and Hanazono (1297–1348).