There was also the morning when Lord Kiyomori stepped from his curtained bed and threw open the double doors only to see, heaped in the inner court garden, dead men’s skulls beyond counting, rolling and churning, up and down, in and out, rattling against one another with a huge clatter. “Attendant! Attendant!” he called, but, as it happened, no one came. Meanwhile the skulls clumped into a great mound, bursting the bounds of the garden, some hundred and fifty feet high— a mountain of skulls, now suddenly crammed with living eyes, all of them training on Lord Kiyomori an unblinking glare.
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