Sanuki no Suke’s Diaary Volume 2 (6)

 

     Before dawn on the first day of the twelfth month, I proceeded to the Daigokuden (Great Hall of State). I had my carriage pulled to the western wing, walked along the matted path, and entered the designated waiting area.

     As dawn slowly broke, mist hung over the tiled roofs of the palace, reminding me of the scenes I had glimpsed while passing the Imperial Palace in years past. As I gazed intently, I saw men in chihaya (ceremonial overcoats) arriving from the north gate, carrying chests filled with dark red robes and glossed silk attire (cloth beaten to a sheen). While it was not a rare sight in itself, the significance of the location made it feel extraordinary. My attendants were bustling with excitement, chattering away as if they were witnessing something miraculous, but I alone felt no interest in anything I saw. To the south, as was customary, there stood a row of banners depicting the Yatagarasu (three-legged crow) and various mythical creatures, along with the Ogashira (ceremonial poles decorated with horse tails). It all felt like a dream.

     I had so often read descriptions of these very things in old tales, wondering what they might actually look like. You can imagine how I felt, now seeing them so vividly before my very eyes.

     As the sun rose higher, a great commotion erupted with the announcement, "The Emperor has arrived!" I had never witnessed such a spectacle: high-ranking courtiers and retired officials wearing jade crowns and brocade robes, and officers of the Imperial Guard clad in formal armor. It was as if a Chinese-style folding screen had come to life before the midday throne; I was overwhelmed with emotion.

     Then, the subordinate officer Fujiwara Akitaka (1072–1129) began grandly urging us, shouting, "The ceremony begins! Quickly, quickly!" He looked for all the world like the deity Bishamonten himself. In a frenzy, feeling dizzy and disoriented, I climbed the stairs. Although my task was called "raising the curtain," I was merely required to place my hands upon it as a formality, while a lady-in-waiting with her hair swept up came to pin it in place. I couldn't help but think, "It wouldn't have mattered at all if I weren't here—why must everything be so meticulously arranged?"

     My heart pounded as I gazed upon the new Emperor, seated within the Takamikura (Imperial Throne), looking so tiny and adorable in his formal robes. My vision blurred, and I was seized by such a profound sense of awkwardness and sorrow that I could not even bring myself to look clearly at his face. Once the ceremony concluded, I quietly withdrew to the waiting area.

     I returned home that night in a state of near-unconsciousness. Those who saw me noticed something strange in my expression and whispered to one another:

"Her face looks ghastly—what could have happened?"

Hearing this, I realized that the wound in my heart had not yet begun to heal, and I broke into uncontrollable sobs.