Short Story – The Legend of Lady Kogo By Gretchen Rickel Wolf, circa 1994

This is a tale of old, of long, long ago in the seventh century. It is the tale of the legendary beauty, Lady Kogo, and her music, and the man who was Emperor of Japan at the time. This emperor was a good and kindly man, greatly revered by all his subjects. Nevertheless, he was a sad and lonely man. In all his vast and beautiful palace, he had but one friend, the good and faithful Nakakuni, who had been his tutor when he was a boy.

There dwelt within the palace a wicked and pernicious influence, so that even his empress and their children loved him not. The powerful Taira no Kiyomori, the empress’s father, hated and despised him because he was so jealous, wanting himself to be emperor. And so it was that the emperor lived in lonely isolation, spending most of his time alone in his chambers. Often, he would sit by the window, looking out on his gardens, the great expanse of flowers and trees, and thinking to himself that all of this mattered not without others to share it with warmth and love. Often, he wished he were a simple man, a peasant, and wondered what life would be like then, with one’s work to do every day, and a family to come home to at night.

He took to sitting at the window long into the dusk, after he had watched the sun go down on another sad and empty day. And one evening, at this time, he thought he heard music in the distance, a very faint, but nevertheless beautiful music. He listened for a while, and then it ended. And the next night it was the same. The next evening at dusk, it was the same sweet music coming to him from a distance, bringing him comfort and a feeling of contentment.

Finally, after many days of hearing this music every evening, he decided he must know where it came from and who made it. So, he sent the good and faithful Nakakuni to seek out the music. Nakakuni followed the melody, which led to the river. He walked along until he saw, in the distance, a lady sitting at the river’s edge with her Koto (Japanese harp). Then he knew from whence the music came. A woman was playing a sweet, sad melody as Nakakuni walked toward her.

This was the Lady Kogo. She was a great beauty. Her hair was like black satin, and her skin like the smooth petal of a magnolia blossom. Her beauty was equaled only by her grace of manner and her kindness.

She had sad thoughts in her mind and was thinking of going into the river. There, for a while, her robes would bear her up, and she would drift on the waters and look into the sky and into the blossoms of the trees for the last time. Her robes would become heavy with water and drag her underneath, where her life as she knew it would end. She would be tormented no more by her sad thoughts and her terrible loneliness, which had become unbearable since her brave and noble husband had lost his life in battle. Though mortally wounded and in great pain, he had led his men to victory, vanquishing a formidable and dangerous enemy.

Nakakuni, the emperor’s emissary, approached her slowly and gently until he could see she was indeed very sad. He could hear that the music she was playing was “Inori” (“A Prayer”). He spoke to her softly about the beauty of her music and how it drifted on the winds to the emperor in the palace, and how he, sitting by his open window every evening, was brought great peace and comfort. The emperor wished her to come to the palace and play for him. Lady Kogo knew that if the emperor so wished, she must accede to his command.

From then on, Lady Kogo left her home in Kyoto and traveled to the palace every day before the sun set and played her music for the emperor until nightfall. The emperor had finally found peace and happiness in the music of the Lady Kogo. And she was relieved of her terrible loneliness and unhappiness, which she had endured ever since the death of her husband.

One day, after many, many moons of playing for the emperor, as she finished her last melody, she slowly raised her head and looked in the face of the emperor. She had not done so before because of the awe and reverence in which she held him. Her head was always bowed, but this time she felt compelled to raise her eyes and look into his, and their eyes spoke to each other of love. This love had been expressed by her through her music, as it became sweeter and more intense. And by the emperor, as he received it with great joy.

As time passed, their love was perceived by the evil and wicked Taira no Kiyomori. He became more consumed with hatred and jealousy of the emperor than ever before. Not only because he himself craved the imperial throne, but because he envied the deep affection that had grown between the emperor and Lady Kogo. And so, in revenge, he plotted to take her away from the emperor. He would capture her and lock her in the darkest of dungeons where she could never be found for the rest of her life. Word of this terrible plot came to Nakakuni as he had spies among the followers of Taira no Kiyomori, and he warned the Lady Kogo. She fled from Kyoto to go into hiding before the wicked lord could seize her. No man knew where.

The emperor was distraught and overcome with grief at the loss of Lady Kogo and her music. He was so horrified and angered at the wicked Taira no Kiyomori for his dreadful plot that he banished him to the Isle of the Great King Cobra, far out on the cold and windswept sea, inhabited only by snakes and scorpions. Yet though the emperor had banished him, none could say with certainty whether he still lived or had perished there. It was said that there the serpents and scorpions bore such venom as would bring about a long and most grievous death.

Seventeen long years did the good Nakakuni search the lands, yet he found never a sign nor trace of Lady Kogo. The emperor grew more distraught. His health was failing and worsened daily by the loss of his loved one. The good Nakakuni, now very old and frail, vowed to never give up his search. He would find the lady Kogo and restore her to his emperor. He continued to travel over the land and around the countryside, always hoping, always believing that one day he would find Lady Kogo.

And indeed, one day he heard the strings of a Koto—no one played the Koto like the Lady Kogo herself. Once again, as he had done many years before, he followed the sound of the music. And once again, he found her at the edge of a river, playing a favorite song of the emperor called “Bibō” (“Remembrance”). She was older now, of course, but still very beautiful. But once again, very sad. And once again, having given up hope of being reunited with the emperor, was going to go into the river, where her robes would become heavy with water and take her below the waters. She would no longer be troubled by her terrible loneliness and unhappiness.

The good Nakakuni approached her slowly and saw, though older and sad, that she was more beautiful than ever. Like a rose somewhat faded, her beauty was greater than before, being more delicate and subtle than in the full bloom of youth. As she saw him, her face showed such joy that the good Nakakuni’s mind wandered for a moment to the time he had encountered her as a young woman at the edge of the river. But then, recovering, he assured her that Taira no Kiyomori was gone forever, and she could return to the palace in great safety, for word had at last come that he had perished in his exile upon that desolate isle.

And so, she returned to the palace where the evil man was no longer. Taira no Kiyomori had long since gone. His daughter, the empress, whose mind he had poisoned against the emperor, had died. The emperor was soon restored to his health, and his happiness was greater than ever. The emperor’s children were restored to him, and all those who inhabited the palace became his faithful followers. The good Nakakuni, so very old and frail now, and wearied to the point of death from his long and grueling travels, was nursed back to health by Lady Kogo, given a high and honored place in the palace, and many precious gifts. The rest of his days were filled with joy and happiness, surrounded as he was by the love and devotion of all who knew of his great, good deed.

The enchanting music of the Lady Kogo was thenceforth a blessing in the palace.

 
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