Podcasts about Naka

This episode we look at many of the natural events and talk about those observing and writing things down, and why they may have wanted to do so. For more, check out our podcast blogpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-139   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 139: Observing the "Natural" World. Members of the Onmyou-ryou, dressed in the official robes of their office, sat around in their observation tower, measuring the location of the stars.  They kept their light to a minimum, just enough so that they could write down their observations, but not so much that it would destroy their vision.  As they looked up, suddenly they saw a strange movement: a streak through the sky.  They waited, and observed, and then there was another, and another after that.  It was as if the stars themselves were falling from the heavens.  They watched as it seemed that the constellations themselves were melting and falling apart.  Quickly they scribbled down notes.  Tomorrow, with the light of day, they would consult various sources to see just what it could mean.  For now, their role was simply to observe and record.   Welcome back, everyone.  It is the height of holiday season in the US as I record this, and in our narrative we are in the middle of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, who came to power in 672 and who has been shoring up the Ritsuryo state instigated by his late brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  We have talked in recent episodes about how Ohoama put a lot of the state under the control of members of the royal family, or at least those with claims to royal blood, and how he had also begun work on the Chronicles—the very works that we have been using to try and understand the history of this and earlier periods.   It seems clear that Ohoama and his cohorts were doing their best to solidify their control and, in the process, create what they felt was a modern state, leveraging the continental model, but not without their own local flavor.  After all, they were also investing in the kami based rituals of state and specifically in Ise shrine, which they claimed as an ancestral shrine for their lineage. This episode, let's dig into another thing that was getting reported around this time.  And that is… science!  Or at least observations of the world and indications of how people were interacting with it. Before going into the subject, I want to acknowledge that "science", or "Kagaku" in modern Japanese, may not look like what we think of as "science" today.  The word "Kagaku" itself appears to come about in the late Edo period, and became associated with the western idea of "Science" in the Meiji period.  Today we think of it as observations, yes, but also testing via the scientific method. I think it might be more appropriate to categorize a lot of earlier science under a term like "learning" or "study", and it seems to have encompassed a wide range of topics of study, some of which we would include as "science" and some which we might refer to more as "arts".  There is also a very fine line with religion and philosophy as well. From a modern perspective, I think one could fairly argue that "science"—particularly the so-called "hard" sciences—refers to something that can be empirically tested via the scientific method.  So you can see something, form a hypothesis, create a test, and then that test should produce the same results no matter who conducts it, assuming you account for the variables. And please don't @ me about this… I know I am simplifying things.  This isn't a podcast about science unless we are talking about the social sciences of history and archaeology. In contrast to our modern concept of science, much of what we see in the Asuka era is built around using our reasoning to arrive at the truth of something.  In cases where we are dealing with clearly physical phenomena that have observable causes and effects, this can lead to remarkably reliable results.  One example of this is calendrical science—it isn't that hard to observe the passing of days and seasons.  Even the rotation of the earth and the movements of stars and even something with as large a period as comets could be observed and tracked, especially if you had centuries of data to comb through.  In fact, they often would predict things that it turns out they couldn't, themselves, see.  They could predict that an eclipse would occur, for example, even when that eclipse was only visible somewhere else.  And they didn't have to calculate gravitational pull, mass, or distances between different heavenly bodies for that to occur. Similarly, in the agricultural sphere: you had so many people who observed the seasons and would figure out new ways of doing things.  It doesn't take an understanding of chlorophyl to know that plants generally do better when exposed to sunlight. I believe the leap happens when you get to things that go beyond purely observable means.  Sickness, for example—how do you explain viruses or germs without equipment like microscopes to see what our eyes alone cannot?  And if such "invisible" things could cause so much damage, then why could there not be other "invisible" elements, such as kami and boddhisatvas?  And as humans we are driven to make connections.  It is one of the things that has driven our technological innovation and rise, but it is also something that can easily go awry.  Like when you are sitting in a dark house, alone, and you hear a noise.  Rationally, you might know that houses settle and creak, but that doesn't necessarily stop your brain from connecting it with thoughts that someone must be in the house making that noise. Or even how we make judgments based on nothing more than how someone talks or what they look like, because our brains have made connections with those things, for good or ill. A large part of the rationalization that was accomplished in Asian thought had to do with concepts of Yin and Yang, the negative and the positive, the dark and the light.  This was thought of as a kind of energy—qi or ki—that was embedded in things.  We discussed this somewhat back in episode 127, because yin yang theory, along with the five element theory, known as Wuxing or Gogyou in Japanese, became embedded in the idea of the calendar.  Why was summer hot, except that it was connected with an excess of fire energy?  And the cold, dark days of winter would be associated with an excess of water, naturally. I should note that while this is one of the more comprehensive philosophical systems in use, it was not the only means by which various phenomena and effects were rationalized.  After all, it had to be imposed on a framework of how the world otherwise worked, and descriptions of the world came from a variety of places.  There was, for example, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, or Sanhaijing, which detailed the world as envisioned in the period before the Qin dynasty, although there were occasional updates.  The Sanhaijing  described regular plants and animals in the same breath as gods and monsters.  There were also various buddhist sutras, which brought their own cosmological view of the universe that had to be squared with other visions, including those passed down locally describing the archipelago as the "Reed Plain" and giving particular importance to eight of the islands—though which eight depends on which variant of the creation myth you are referencing. To categorize the study of the natural—and what we would consider the supernatural—world around them, the Ritsuryou set up specific bureaus.  One of these was the Onmyou-ryou, the Bureau of Yin-yang, also known as the Onyo no Tsukasa.  This Bureau oversaw divination, astronomy, time, and calendars.  At its head was the Onmyou-no-kami.  Below them were the various scholars studying the core subjects, as well as technical practitioners to carry out the rites and divination. On the continent, priority was generally given to astronomical and calendrical studies, and many of the more magical practices or rituals would fade away, likely because there were local Taoist institutions who could take up much of that work.  In Japan, however, it seems that the calendrical studies tended to ossify, instead, while onmyoji came to fill a role not just for the state but also among the population for divination and other such practices.  Even into the Edo period one could find private onmyoji, and the Bureau itself lasted until the very beginning of the Meiji period. Another important institution of the Ritsuryo government for learning was the Daigakuryou, the Bureau of Great Learning.  Students of Japanese may recognize the term "Daigaku" referring, today, to universities. The original concept for the Daigaku-ryou, or Daigaku no Tsukasa, was focused on the study of those things that were considered perhaps a bit more practical and necessary to anyone who might want a political career.  Since this was founded on concepts of Confucian government, it is little wonder that it was originally designed to focus on Confucian studies, among other things.  This fits into the idea of a supposed meritocracy, where one's education was part of the examination.  You may recall from Episode 115 we talked about the National University in Chang'an, which is likely something that the Daigaku Ryou could only ever dream of becoming. Early arts taught at the Daigaku Ryou included the Confucian classics, mathematics, writing, and Chinese pronunciation.  These were all things that you would need to know to become a part of the bureaucracy The idea of a school may have been born along with the early institution of the government, with mention as early as 671, in the last year of Naka no Oe's reign, but we don't have it clearly established in the code until later.  Full operations may have been somewhat delayed due to the tumultuous events of Ohoama's accession to power in 672, but we do see it explicitly mentioned in the year 675.  On the first day of the year we are told that Students from the Daigaku Ryou, along with students from the Onmyou-Ryou and from the Gaiyaku Ryou, the Bureau of External Medicine; along with the Woman of S'ravasti, the Woman of Tara, Prince Syeonkwang of Baekje, and Silla labourers offered presents of drugs and various rarities. We talked about the first two, the Daigaku-ryou and the Onmyou-ryou, but the Gaiyaku Ryou doesn't seem to have a lot of information out there beyond this mention.  Later there would a "Ten'yaku Ryou", or Bureau of Medicine, established in the code.  Since we don't have any extant codes from this period beyond what was written down in the Nihon Shoki, we don't know for certain what the Gaiyaku-ryou was , and it is possible that the Gaiyaku-Ryou was a precursor to the Ten'yaku Ryou.  "GAI" means "outside" or "external", leading me to wonder if this referred to external medicine in contrast to internal medicine, or if it meant medicine or drugs from outside teh archipeloago. I would point out that these students are found with the Woman of S'ravasti, or Shae; the Woman of Tara; a Baekje prince and Silla labourers.  In other words, they were all people from outside of the archipelago.  This is not entirely surprising as it was from outside that much of the learning was coming into the country. "Yaku" or "Kusuri", which can be translated as either "Drugs" or "medicine", could refer to a number of things.  How effective they were is somewhat questionable. Almost certainly some of them had confirmed medicinal efficacy, but others may have been thought to have been effective due to things like their connection to the five elements, or wuxing, theory. For example, something red might be assumed to have a warming effect because of the presumed presence of the fire element.  And the power of the placebo effect no doubt made them seem at least partially effective.  Consider, for example, how many people will swear by certain remedies for the common cold when all it really does is distract you, or perhaps make you a bit more comfortable, until the symptoms pass on their own. A more certain science was probably that of Astronomy, which we've mentioned a few times.  The passage of the stars through the sky was something that could be easily observed.  There is a theory that some of the first lines in the Yijing, or book of changes, may actually be a description of the changing of seasons as different aspects of a given constellation rise over the horizon, and the placement of certain stars would help in the adjustment of the lunar calendar, since the moon's orbit does not match up exactly with the solar year, and year the solar year was quite important to things like agriculture and even sailing to the mainland. This all makes 675 a seemingly banner year for science, as four days after the presentation of medicine to the throne, the government erected a platform by which to observe the stars.  This wouldn't need to be much—it could have been an earthen mound, or just a tower, from which one could get above the ground, presumably see over any buildings, to the horizon.  Granted, Asuka might not be the best place for such observations, with the nearby mountains meaning that the true horizon is often obstructed.  Nonetheless, it may have been enough to make calculations. Astronomy platforms, or Tenmondai, would continue to be used up until at least the Meiji period.  Without a telescope, observations were somewhat limited—though they also didn't have the same level of light pollution that we have today.  Remember, many woke just before dawn and went to sleep not too long after the sun went down, which only makes sense when you are living in a place where creating light, while doable, also ran the risk of burning your entire house to the ground. It is worth noting that the sky for the ancient Japanese was likely quite different than what most of us see when we look up, unless you are fortunate enough to live in a place with very little light pollution.  For many of those living today in the cities and suburban landscape, go outside at night and you might see the moon and some of the brightest stars, but for most of the ancient Japanese, they would look up and see the heavenly river, the Amakawa, or Milky Way.  They would have looked up at a sky glittering with myriad dots of light, as well as planets and more.  It was both familiar and strange—something one saw regularly and yet something that was also extremely inaccessible. Astronomical observations would have been important for several reasons, as I've mentioned.  They would have been used to keep the calendar in check, but they would also have likely been used to help calibrate the water clock, which helped to tell time.  Of course, going back to the five elements and yin yang theory, it is also believed that the energy, the qi or ki, changed with the seasons and the movements of the stars and planets—planets were not known as such, of course, but their seemingly erratic movements compared to bright lights in the sky meant they were noticed and assigned values within the elemental system. One of the things that came with the changing seasons, the heavenly movements, and the flow of ki was a concept of "kata-imi", literally directional taboos.  There were times when certain directions might be considered favorable or unfavorable for various actions.  This could be something as simple as traveling in a given direction.  In the centuries to come this would spawn an entire practice of kata-tagae, or changing direction.  Is the north blocked, but you need to travel there, anyway?  Well just go northwest to say hello to a friend or visit your local sake brewery, and then travel due east.  Ta-da!  You avoided going directly north!  There were also mantra-like incantations that one might say if they had to travel in an inauspicious direction to counteract the concept of bad influences. This also influenced various other things, and even today you will often see dates where a year and month might be followed by simply the character for "auspicious day" rather than an actual day of the month. So observing the heavens was important, and it was also important that they tostudy the works of those on the continent, whose records could help predict various astronomical phenomena.  Except that there was one tiny problem:  I don't know if you've noticed, but Japan and China are in two different locations.  Not all astronomical phenomena can be observed from all points of the globe.  The Northern Lights, for example, are rarely seen in more southerly latitudes, and while eclipses are not too rare, a total eclipse only impacts certain areas of the earth, along relatively narrow paths. I mention this because it isn't always clear if the records we get in the Nihon Shoki are about phenomena they directly observed or if they are taking reports from elsewhere and incorporating them into the narrative.  One such event is the comet of 676. The entry in the Nihon Shoki tells us that in the 7th lunar month of the 5th year of Temmu Tennou, aka 676 CE, a star appeared in the east that was 7 or 8 shaku in length.  It disappeared two months later. We've mentioned some of this before, but the sky was divided up into "shaku", or "feet", though how exactly it was measured I'm not entirely sure.  It appears to be that one foot was roughly 1.5 degrees of the sky, give or take about a quarter of a degree, with 180 degrees from horizon to horizon.  So it would have been about 10 to 12 degrees in the sky.  Another way to picture it is if you hold out your arm towards the object, and spread your index and little finger, it would probably fit between those two points.  This comet hung around for some time, and a great part about a comet like this is that it was viewable from multiple locations.  After all, as the earth turned, different areas were exposed to the comet as it passed through our part of the solar system.  Thus we have records of it from not just the Nihon Shoki:  We also find it in the Anglo-Saxon chronicles, where it was thought to have foretold the end of Bishop Wilfred's control of Northumbria.  We also see it in Tang, Silla, and Syrian sources. These sources aren't always in complete agreement.  For one thing, they noted when they first saw it, which might have been impacted by local conditions.  And then conversion between lunar and solar calendars can also sometimes get in the way.  Roughtly speaking, we have the Nihon Shoki providing dates of somewhere from about August or September of 676, on the Western calendar, to October or November. Tang sources put it from 4 September to 1 November.  Silla Chronicles claim that it first appeared in the 7th lunar month, so between August and September.  A Syrian Chronicle notes a comet from about 28 August to 26 October in the following year, 677, but this is thought to have been a mistake.  European sources generally seem to claim it was seen in August and lasted for three months.  All of these sightings put it at roughly the same time. Working with that and with known comets, we think we actually know which comet this is:  The Comet de Cheseaux also known as the Comet Klinkenberg-Cheseaux.  And I should mention this is all thanks to a research paper by M. Meyer and G. W. Kronk.  In that paper they propose that this is the comet with the designation of C/1743 X1, or the common names I just mentioned.  If so, based on its trajectory, this comet would have been visible in 336, 676, 1032, 1402, 1744, and is next predicted to show up in 2097.  And no, those aren't all exactly the same amount of time.  It is roughly every 350 years or so, but with the movements of the solar system, the planets, and various gravitational forces that likely slow or speed up its movement, it doesn't show up on exactly regular intervals.  Still, it is pretty incredible to think that we have a record of a comet that was seen the world over at this time, by people looking up from some very different places. Comets were something interesting for early astronomers.  They may have originally been seen as particularly ominous—after all, in the early eras, they were hardly predictable, and it would take years to get enough data to see that they were actually a somewhat regular occurrence.  In fact, it is likely that early astronomers were able to figure out eclipse schedules before comets.  Still, they seem to have come to the realization that comets were in fact another type of natural and reoccurring phenomenon.  That isn't to say that they didn't have any oracular meaning, but it did mean they were less of an obvious disturbance of the heavenly order. We have another comet mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 681, but that one seems to have had less attention focused on it, and we don't have the same details.  Then in the 8th lunar month of 682 we have an entry about a Great Star passing from East to West—which was probably a shooting star, rather than a comet.  Comets, for all that they appear to be streaking across the sky thanks to their long tails, are often relatively stable from an earthbound perspective, taking months to appear and then disappear again. Then, on the 23rd day of the 7th month of 684 we get another comet in the northwest.  This one was more than 10 shaku in length—about 15 degrees, total, give or take.  Given the date, we can be fairly confident about this one, as well: it was the famous Halley's comet.  Halley's comet is fascinating for several reasons.  For one, it has a relatively short period of about 72 to 80 years, though mostly closer to 75 to 77 years in between sightings.  The last time it visited the earth was in 1986, and it is expected back in 2061.  Halley's comet has been recorded since the 3rd century BCE, and, likely because of its short period, it was the first periodic comet to be recognized as such.  There are other periodic comets with short periods, but many of them are not visible with the naked eye.  Halley's comet is perhaps the most studied comet, given its regular and relatively short periodicity.  It is also connected to the famous writer, humorist, and essayist, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain.  He was born only a few days after the comet reached perihelion in 1835 and died a day after it reached the same point again in 1910, and while he may not have visited Japan in his lifetime, it was a period of great change both in his home country of America and in Japan.  America, of course, would undergo a Civil War over the issue of slavery in the early 1860s, and shortly after that Japan would have its own civil war in the form of the Meiji Revolution.  And while he never visited—and translation could only do so much to capture the art of his prose—Mark Twain's works were apparently quite influential in Japan in the early 20th century. Of course, comets were just one of the celestial phenomena to be observed.  The astronomers were interested in just about anything happening in the sky.  We have accounts of both solar and lunar eclipses, and not necessarily full eclipses either.  We even have notice of the movement of some planets, such as in 681, when they noted that the planet mars "entered" the moon. Obviously the astronomers weren't recording every raincloud that came through—at least not in the main chronicles—but they did capture a fair number of events.  They did record particularly memorable storms.  For instances, in the 8th lunar month of 675 there was a storm that is said to have caused sand to fly and which then damaged houses.  This sounds like a wind storm without rain—after all, if there was rain, you would expect that the sand would have been wet and tamped down.  It is possible to have hurricane level winds without the rain.  While typhoons typically bring rain, especially as they usually build up their strength at sea, it is possible to have the winds alone, as I've experienced, myself, in Tokyo.  This most likely happens in an isolated area—there is water and rain somewhere, but the typhoon can be large, so parts of it may only get the wind and little or no rain.  I wonder if something like that happened in this instance.  It is also possible that this record refers to actual sand being brought across from the continent.  In some instances, sand can be lifted up from as far away as Mongolia and carried all the way to Japan, though it is pretty rare. And it wasn't just wind and sand.  We get accounts of hail coming down as large as peaches, torrential rainstorms, and even ash, likely from a volcanic eruption that was otherwise unrecorded.  There are also accounts of snow, though typically recorded in times where you wouldn't expect to see it, such as the third lunar month, which would mean snow in late April or early May. Mostly these storms are mentioned in terms of how they affected the immediate fortunes of the living, but sometimes storms did even more damage.  In 682, for example, a hoar-frost was reported in both Shinano and Kibi in the 7th lunar month.  On its own, this probably wouldn't have been worth mentioning, but the chroniclers add that because of storms the "five grains had not formed".  So storms had diminished the crops and the hoar-frost was apparently the killing blow.  The harvest that year would be lean, and it would not be a happy time for many that winter. And then, just as important as what was happening was what was not.  There are several mentions of droughts, particularly towards the end of Spring, early Summer.  This is traditionally a drier period, and if it is too dry it could harm the harvest.  And so the government was expected to find a way to bring the rain—a tall order, the general resolution to which seems to be prayers and rituals designed to bring rain.  In a place like Japan, I suspect that it was usually just a matter of time before the prayers were "successful", thus reinforcing their presumed efficacy. Some of the things that they recorded were a bit more mysterious.  For example, in the second lunar month of 680 we are told that a sound like drums was heard from the East.  There are many things this could theoretically be, from rumbles of thunder to some other phenomenon, though the following year we have a note about thunder in the West, so theoretically they knew the difference between thunder and drums.  Later that same year, 680, we are told that there was a "brightness" in the East from the hour of the dog to the hour of the rat—about 8pm to midnight.  Was this some kind of aurora?  But wouldn't that have been in the north, rather than the east?    Could it have been some kind of lightning?  But that is a long time for a lightning storm to hang around.  And there are other strange things, some of which seem impossible and we have to doubt.  For example, in 684 they said that, at dusk, the seven stars of the Big Dipper drifted together to the northeast and sank.  Unless they are just recording the natural setting of the stars of the big dipper.  Certainly, over time the constellation appears to rotate around the north star, and it dips down to or below the horizon in the autumn months.  So were they just talking about the natural, yearly setting of the stars, or something else? There may be some clues in that the 11th lunar month, when that was recorded, we see several other heavenly phenomena recorded.  Two days after the Big Dipper set, at sunset, a star fell in the eastern quarter of the sky that we are told was as large as a jar.  Later, the constellations were wholly disordered and stars fell like rain.  That same month, a star shot up in the zenith and proceeded along with the Pleiades until the end of the month.  While this sounds like shooting stars and a possible meteor shower, a later commenter suggested that this was all a heavenly omen for the state of the court, showing the "disordered" state of the nobility at this time.  Of course, this was also a year and change before the sovereign's eventual passing, so there is also the possibility that the Chroniclers were looking at events later and ascribing meaning and importance after the fact. In another account of something seemingly wonderous: in 682 we are told that something shaped like a Buddhist flag, colored like flame, was seen by all of the provinces and then sank into the Japan sea north of Koshi.  A white mist is also said to have risen up from the Eastern mountains. There are various things that could be going on here.  It strikes me that the white mist could be a cloud, but could also be something volcanic.  And the flame colored prayer flag makes me think about how a high cloud can catch the light of the rising or setting sun.  That could look like a flag, and can seem extremely odd depending on the other conditions in the sky. Or maybe it was aliens. Okay, it is unlikely that it was aliens, but I think that these do give an idea of the kinds of records that were being made about the observed phenomena.  Obviously the Nihon Shoki is recording those things that were considered particularly significant for whatever reason.  This could just be because it was something odd and unexplained, or perhaps it was more well known but rare.  It may have even had religious connotations based on some aspect, like evoking the image of Buddhist flags.  And it is possible that it was thought to have had significant impact on events—perhaps even an impact that isn't clear to us today, many centuries removed from the events. Some things were clear, however.  Lightning strikes are often mentioned specifically when they strike something of note.  In 678, we are told that a pillar of the Western Hall of the New Palace was struck by lightning, though apparently the building itself survived.  Then, in 686, Lighting appeared in the southern sky with a large roar of thunder.  A fire broke out and caught the tax cloth storehouse of the Ministry of Popular affairs, which immediately exploded in flames.  After all, a thatched roofed, wooden building filled with kindling in the form of cloth—and likely a  fair amount of paper and writing supplies to keep track of it all—sounds like a bonfire waiting to happen.  There were reports that the fire had actually started in Prince Osakabe's palace and then spread to the Ministry of Popular Affairs from there. It is also worth noting that recording of such events was still somewhat new to the archipelago as a whole. They were learning from the continent, but also defining their own traditions. Observations of natural phenomena weren't just relegated to celestial occurrences or weather.  After all, there was something else that one could observe in the sky:  birds.  Now this wasn't your average bird-watching—though I'm not saying that there weren't casual birders in ancient Japan, and if we ever find someone's birding diary from that era I think that would be so cool.  But there were some things that were significant enough to be mentioned. For example, in 678 we get a report of "atori", or bramblings.  Bramblings are small songbirds which are found across Eurasia.  Notably they are migratory, and are known to migrate in huge flocks especially in the winter time, and sure enough on the 27th day of the 12th month we are told that the bramblings flew from the southwest to the northeast, covering the entire sky.  This makes me think about some of the other mass migrations that used to occur that have largely been reduced significantly due to habitat loss, disruption to traditional migratory routes, and other population pressures on various bird species.  Still, having so many birds that it blocked out the sky certainly seems a significant event to report on.  We later see a similar account in 680, with the flock moving from southeast to northwest.  Given the location of Asuka it sounds like they were flocking in the mountains and heading out over the Nara Basin, perhaps seeking food in another mountainous area. In 682, the birders were at it again.  This time, around midday on the 11th day of the 9th lunar month, several hundreds of cranes appeared around the Palace and soared up into the sky.  They were there for about two hours before they dispersed.  Once again, cranes are migratory and known to flock.  Cranes are also known as a symbol of long life and joy—and I can understand it.  Have you ever seen a flock of cranes?  They are not small birds, and they can be really an incredible sight.  Flocks of cranes themselves were probably not that rare, and it was no doubt more about so many gathering around the palace which made it particularly special. It wasn't just birds in the sky that were considered important symbols, though.  Birds often are noted as auspicious omens.  Usually strange birds, plants, or other such things are found in various provinces and presented to the throne.    So in 675, Yamato presented auspicious "barn-door fowl", likely meaning a fancy chicken.  Meanwhile, the Eastern provinces presented a white falcon and the province of Afumi presented a white kite.  Chickens are associated with the sun and thus with the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and albino versions of animals were always considered auspicious, often being mentioned in Buddhist sources.  Later, in 680, we see a small songbird, a "Shitodo", also described as white, and probably albino, sent to the court from nearby Settsu. Then, in 681 there is mention of a red sparrow.  Red coloration is not quite the same as albinism, though it is something that does occur at times, when the brownish coloration comes out more red than brown, and I suspect this is what we are talking about.  This is most likely just a recessed gene or genetic mutation, similar to causes for albinism, but just in a different place in the DNA.  As for why it was important:  I'd first and foremost note that anything out of the ordinary (and even some ordinary things) could be considered a sign.   Red was also seen as an auspicious color, so that may have had something to do with it as well.  And then there is the concept of Suzaku, the red bird of the south.  Suzaku is usually depicted as an exotic bird species of some kind, like how we might depict a phoenix.  But it was also just a "red bird", so there is that, and perhaps that was enough.  Not that this red sparrow was "Suzaku", but evoked the idea of the southern guardian animal.  A year prior, in 680, a red bird—we aren't told what kind—had perched on a southern gate, which even more clearly screams of the Suzaku aesthetic. It is probably worth noting here that in 686, towards the end of the reign, not that anyone knew it at the time, Ohoama decided to institute a new nengo, or regnal period.  It was called Shuuchou—red or vermillion bird—and it likely referred to Suzaku.  This nengo was cut short, however, with Ohoama's death that same year.  Nengo were often chosen with auspicious names as a kind of hope for the nation, so clearly "red bird" was considered a good thing. A month after the red sparrow, Ise sent a white owl, and then a month after that, the province of Suwou sent a red turtle, which they let loose in the pond at the Shima palace.  Again, these were probably just examples of animals seen as auspicious, though they would have likely been recorded by the Onmyou-ryou, who would have likely combed through various sources and precedents to determine what kind of meaning might be attached to them. Color wasn't the only thing that was important.  In 682, the Viceroy of Tsukushi reported that they had found a sparrow with three legs.  There are numerous reasons why this could be, but there is particular significance in Japan and Asia more generally.  A three legged bird is often associated with the sun Andusually depicted as a black outline of a three legged bird inside of a red sun.  In Japan this was often conflated with the Yata-garasu, the Great Crow, which is said to have led the first mythical sovereign, Iware Biko, to victory in his conquest of Yamato.  Thus we often see a three legged crow depicted in the sun, which was an object of particular veneration for the Wa people from centuries before.  And I suspect that the little three-legged sparrow from Tsukushi  I suspect that this had particular significance because of that image. Animals were not the only auspicious things presented to the throne.  In 678, Oshinomi no Miyatsuko no Yoshimaro presented the sovereign with five auspicious stalks of rice.  Each stalk, itself, had other branches.  Rice, of course, was extremely important in Japan, both from a ritual and economic sense, so presenting rice seems appropriate.  Five stalks recalls things like the five elemental theory—and in general five was consider a good number.  Three and five are both good, prime numbers, while four, pronounced "Shi", sounds like death and is considered inauspicious.  Three, or "San" is sometimes associated with life, and five is associated with the five elements, but also just the fact that it is half of ten, and we have five fingers on one hand and in so many other ways, five is regarded as a good number in much of Asia. That the stalks had multiple branches likely referred to them bearing more than the usual amount of rice on them, which seems particularly hopeful.  Certainly the court thought so.  In light of the auspicious gift, all sentences of penal servitude and lower were remitted.  In 680, Officials of the Department of Law gave tribute of auspicious stalks of grain, themselves.  I'm not sure, in this case, that it was all that they hoped, however, as that began three days straight of rain and flooding. A year earlier, in 679, we are told that the district of Ito, in Kii, immediately south of Yamato, sent as tribute the "herb of long life".  We are told that it "resembled" a mushroom—probably meaning it was a mushroom, or maybe something formed into a mushroom shape.  But the stem was about a foot long and the crown was two spans, about 6 feet in diameter.  This is pretty incredible, and I have to wonder if there is a bit of exaggeration going on here. Another tribute was a horn found on Mt. Katsuraki.  It branched into two at the base, was united at the end, and had some flesh and hair still attached, about an inch in length.  They claimed it must be horn or a Lin, or Kirin, sometimes referred to as an Asian unicorn—a mythical creature considered to be quite auspicious and benevolent.  This was on the 26th day in the 2nd lunar month of the year 680, probably around March or April.  I highly suspect that what they found was an oddly shaped bit of antler from  a buck whose antlers had begun to come in and which might have been taken out by wolves or bears or something else altogether.  The fact that the ends were said to be fused together could just be referring to some kind of malformation of the antlers.  The fur and flesh could mean that the antlers were still growing—antlers would probably just be coming in around early spring time.  Still, there is no telling how long it was there, so it could have been from the previous year as well.  Attributing it to a kirin seems a bit of a stretch, but it was clearly something unusual. Animals and plants were recorded in tribute, but also when something odd happened.  Fruiting out of season was one such occurrence, which we've seen elsewhere in the chronicles as well.  There was even a record when the famous Tsuki tree outside of Asukadera had a branch fall down.  Presumably it was a large and noticeable branch, and by now this appears to have been a tree with a bit of age to it that had seen a lot, so it makes sense it got a mention. Finally, we go from the heavens to the earth.    Perhaps the most numerous observations in the Chronicles were the earthquakes.  We've noted in the past that Japan is extremely active, volcanically speaking, so it makes sense that there are multiple accounts of earthquakes each year, especially if they were compiling reports from around the country.  Most of these are little more than just a note that there was an earthquake, but a few stand out. The first is the 12th lunar month of 678.  We are told that there was a large earthquake in Tsukushi—modern Kyushu. The ground split open to the width of about 20 feet for more than 30,000 feet.  Many of the commoners' houses in the area were torn down.  In one place there was a house atop a hill, and though the hill crumbled down the house somehow remained intact.  The inhabitants had apparently been home and must have been oblivious, as they didn't realize anything had happened until they woke up the next morning. Again, probably a bit of hyperbole in here, but if we think back to things like the 2016 Kumamoto earthquake, where large areas of land shifted noticeably along the fault lines, it is likely that this was a similar or even more catastrophic event.  And here I'll give a quick plug for Kumamoto, which is still working to rebuild from the earthquake, and if you ever get a chance, I recommend a visit to the Kumamoto Earthquake Memorial Museum or Kioku, where you can see for yourself just how powerful mother nature can be. Another powerful earthquake was mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 684.  If the earthquake in Tsukushi had hit mostly agricultural areas, based on the description, this seems to have hit more populated regions.  We are told that it started in the dark of night, the hour of the boar, so about 10pm, give or take an hour.  The shaking was so bad that throughout the country men and women cried out and were disoriented—they could not tell east from west, a condition no doubt further hindered by the dark night sky.  There were mountain slides and rivers changed course, breaking their banks and flooding nearby areas.  Official buildings of the provinces and districts, the barns and houses of the common people, and the temples, pagodas, and shrines were all destroyed in huge numbers.  Many people and domestic animals were killed or injured.  The hot springs of Iyo were dried up and ceased to flow.  In the province of Tosa, more than 500,000 shiro of cultivated land sank below sea level.  Old men said that they had never seen such an earthquake.  On that night there was a rumbling noise like that of drums heard in the east—possibly similar to what we had mentioned earlier.  Some say that the island of Idzu, aka Vries Island, the volcanic island at the entrance of Edo Bay, increased on the north side by more than 3,000 feet and that a new island had been formed.  The noise of the drums was attributed to the gods creating that island. So here we have a catastrophic quake that impacted from Iyo, on the western end of Shikoku, all the way to the head of Edo Bay, modern Tokyo.  This appears to be what seismologists have labelled a "Nankai Trough Megathrust Earthquake".  Similar quakes have occurred and are predicted to occur in the future., along a region of Japan from the east coast of Kyushu, through the Seto Inland Sea, including Shikoku, through the Kii peninsula and all the way to Mt. Fuji.  The Nankai Trough, or Southern Sea Trough, is the area where the continental shelf drops down, and where the Philippine tectonic plate slips underneath the Eurasian—or more specifically the Amuric—plate.  As these plates move it can cause multiple events all along the trough at the same time.  Since being regularly recorded, these quakes have been noted every 100 to 150 years, with the last one being the Showa Nankai quakes of 1944 and 1946. For all of the destruction that it brought, however, apparently it didn't stop the court.  Two days after this devastating quake we are told that Presents were made to the Princes and Ministers.  Either they weren't so affected in the capital, or perhaps the date given for one of the two records is not quite reliable.  Personally, I find it hard to believe that there would be presents given out two days later unless they were some form of financial aid.  But what do I know?  It is possible that the court itself was not as affected as other areas, and they may not have fully even grasped the epic scale of the destruction that would later be described in the Chronicles, given the length of time it took to communicate messages across the country. Which brings us back to the "science" of the time, or at least the observation, hoping to learn from precedence or piece out what messages the world might have for the sovereign and those who could read the signs.  While many of the court's and Chronicler's conclusions may give us pause, today, we should nonetheless be thankful that they at least decided to keep notes and jot down their observations.  That record keeping means that we don't have to only rely on modern records to see patterns that could take centuries to reveal themselves.  Sure, at this time, those records were  still a bit spotty, but it was the start of something that would be remarkably important, and even though these Chronicles may have been focused on propaganda, the fact that they include so many other references are an incalculable boon to us, today, if we can just see to make the connections.  And with that, I think I've rambled enough for this episode.  We still have a couple more to fully cover this period. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

The episode recaps the 2025 World Cup and argues that the knockout + rapid-tiebreak format is too random for awarding three Candidates spots, even though Sindarov, Wei Yi, and Esipenko were deserving stories in different ways. The sensei preview how this unpredictability shapes the upcoming Candidates, discuss favorites (Fabi, Prag, Naka), and explain why Dojo still prefers a more merit-based qualification system. Join the Dojo - https://chessdojo.club Watch Live - https://twitch.tv/chessdojo Play Chess - https://go.chess.com/chessdojo Merch - https://www.chessdojo.club/shop Want to support the channel? Patreon - https://patreon.com/chessdojo Donate - https://streamelements.com/chessdojo/tip Find all of our chess book & supplies recommendations (& more!) on our Amazon storefront: https://www.amazon.com/shop/chessdojo Shopping through our link is a great way to support the Dojo. We earn a small affiliate % but at no cost to you. Website: https://chessdojo.club Twitch: https://twitch.tv/chessdojo Discord: https://discord.gg/GhKsJtjpFw Twitter: https://twitter.com/chessdojo Patreon: https://patreon.com/chessdojo Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chessdojo Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chessdojo Podcast: https://chessdojotalks.podbean.com TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@/chessdojoclips 00:00 Dojo in Charlotte and live classes 03:30 World Cup recap and qualifiers 07:30 Rapid tiebreaks and fatigue 12:30 Why the World Cup feels random 19:00 Final four paths and upsets 28:00 Sindarov and Wei Yi trajectories 41:00 Candidates preview and favorites

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This episode we cover the first silver mine in Japan, as well as the way that this sovereign is approaching offerings to the kami and handling family matters. For more check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-138   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 138: Offerings and Covenants   A gentle summer breeze blew through the cherry-tree-covered hills of Yoshino valley.  The royal residence, a kind of summer home for the royal family, normally somewhat quiet, was suddenly abuzz with activity.  The regular groundskeepers and those who tended the site throughout the year mingled with servants sent from the capital to make it ready for a royal visit.  Rooms were aired out and swept. Metal fixtures were polished.  The kitchen was stocked and ready to go. It had been some years since the prince—now sovereign—had resided in the valley as an attempt to proclaim he had retired from the world.  Now he was sitting at the top of the state government, but as such, he was more often than not living in the grand palace in Asuka, which he had renovated at the start of his reign. This, the Yoshino palace, was left as more of a vacation home—though "home" hardly did it justice given its majesty compared to the meager dwellings that otherwise surrounded it. And now there was a massive royal procession on their way.  Sure, it was the sovereign and his queen, and only a handful of princes, but they would each need their own quarters and likely have their own household staff that would no doubt need to be fed and housed.  In such a way a "simple" outing for the royal family was so often anything but for those who had to make it happen. And yet, such labor was much preferred to toiling in the fields, especially as the heat of the day started to rise, and the height of summer loomed large in the all-too-immediate future.   Alright, so we are in the midst of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, the brother of Naka no Ohoe, who came to power through the use of military force—purportedly used in self-defense—and the sovereign who would have a profound effect on solidifying the Ritsuryo state, as well as the Chronicles and the history of the archipelago as we know it.  We've talked about Ohoama's ascension to the throne, and even his first year.  We mentioned how, during his reign, he rewarded those who helped him, tweaked the rank system, and we talked a bit about what we know of the clothing and the material culture of the period. This episode, we continue looking at what occurred during Ohoama's reign.  Specifically we'll be covering some of the ways in which Ohoama and his court were shaping the government and the structures of power to serve him and his family.  This includes everything from ritual, such as making offerings to various kami, to the way that he seems to have centralized power to himself and his family, which would have lasting impacts through the Asuka and Nara periods. First, though, a tiny little digression about silver.  We start in the 3rd lunar month of the second year since Ohoama ascended the throne, or the year 674 by the western calendar.  We are told that Woshiumi no Miyatsuko no Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the island that formed the main border between the archipelago and the mainland, reported that silver had been produced there for the first time, and sent in some as tribute.  This is the first recorded instance of silver being produced in Japan. At this time, silver mining was mostly limited to finding a vein of silver on the surface and digging it out as far as one could possibly go into the rock and stone.  Still, silver would eventually become an important resource for the archipelago.  Tsushima would continue to produce silver through modern times.  Granted, production was limited until new refining techniques were introduced from Joseon Korea in the 16th century.  This was just as Ming dynasty deposits were declining, and as such, silver would become a major export from the archipelago to the mainland.  Indeed, by the 17th century, it is said that Japan accounted for one quarter to one third of the entire world's silver production. For now, however, the discovery of native silver was certainly a good start, but the Yamato court wasn't switching to a silver coin currency just yet—rice and cloth were still the major currencies for tax and trade purposes.  Still this find seems not insignificant, and clearly the chroniclers thought so as well -- as did the court.  They granted Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the rank of Lower Shoukin.  The silver produced by the mine was offered to the various kami of heaven and earth, and presents were made to the high ministers and others of the rank of Shoukin and above. Now back to the Chronicles, and to the meat of what I'll be talking about this episode. On the 3rd day of the 8th lunar month of 674, we are told that the Royal Prince Wosakabe was sent to Isonokami shrine to polish up the divine treasures, at which point the sovereign made a rather spectacular decree:  he declared that all of the precious things originally deposited in the sacred treasuries by the various houses should be returned to their descendants. This appears to be a reference to the long-standing practice by Yamato of demanding that those they had gained some level of hegemony over turn over their sacred objects for Yamato's keeping.    We talked about this back in episodes 19 and 29, for example, when we talked about how Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tenno, and Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tenno, had both requested treasures from Izumo and elsewhere, to be stored in the treasure house of Isonokami. We aren't told what all of these treasures were, but we can deduce that these were sacred treasures of the different houses and localities, much as the mirror, jewel, and sword were sacred treasures of Yamato.  These were items that early on distinguished the elite class in the archipelago, and had come to be gathered in the divine store houses.  You may recall how, early on, we saw mentions in the Chroncles that ships sent out to meet with others from different lands would place such treasures on a makeshift tree on the deck as a way of depicting who they were—who they represented. It would seem that these sacred objects came to represent the divine ancestors of the elites, and so eventually were associated with the idea of power and authority.  As Yamato spread its influence, possibly as much through the spiritual authority of Mt. Miwa as through its economic and military capability, it seems to have demanded that the various lands that came under its sway place their sacred treasures in Yamato's storehouse—a powerful image of Yamato's authority.  In a sense, this was a kind of hostage situation: recognize our authority, or your most sacred treasures, representing your ancestors, will be at risk .  One wonders if this isn't part of the reason that we find buried caches of bronze ritual items, including weapons, bells, and other such things, perhaps as a means of keeping them safe from those who would steal them away. However, in the new era of the Ritsuryo system, those objects, while still considered divine and sacred, did not hold the same value as they once had.  Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but this really seems to me to be particularly illustrative of the idea that the cultural imaginary of state power and authority had shifted.  Yamato's power and authority was no longer based on its role as a spiritual powerhouse as much as it was centered on the continental framework of a heavenly mandate and a system of laws and punishments.   And so, the sovereign could return the sacred items back to their descendants, because to do so did not cost him anything, and at the same time would no doubt earn him goodwill.  He could appear magnanimous and, in so doing, solidify his position as the supreme hegemon of this new state.  In many ways this acknowledged the importance of the divine treasures to the people and to the kami while also no doubt reinforcing Confucian stereotypes of the benevolent ruler. More importantly, this shows how Ohoama was restructuring the rituals of the state.  After all, he had the Jingikan, an entire governmental department dedicated to administering the various shrines and sacred rituals; so even if the sacred treasures were returned, they were still technically under the control of the state apparatus.  We've already talked about the Daijosai, the Feast of First Fruits for a new reign, a central ritual to which Ohoama had added further pomp and circumstance.  But as no less a scholar than Herman Ooms has written about, Ohoama also initiated the practice of ordering regular centralized offerings to not just one particular kami, but to several or even a number of kami, or shrines, at any given time.  We see this in the following year, on the 23rd day of the first lunar month of 675, in an almost off-hand remark. Later, in the 10th month of 676 offerings were made to all of the "Ahimbe" kami of Heaven and Earth—that is all of kami that were part of the festival of first fruits held on the first day of the rabbit on the 11th lunar month.  Offerings were also made to all of the Heavenly and Earthly kami on the second day of the year in 681. Of course, these offerings would not just be enriching the shrines of these various kami, but it would also reflect on the various uji connected to each of those shrines, as well. Another example of the court's involvement in these ritual innovations appears to be the worship of the deities at Tatsuta and Hirose.  The first example of that is also in 675, in the 4th month of that year.  Prince Mino and Saheki no Muraji no Hirotari were sent to the Wind-gods at Tateno, in Tatsuta.  Aston notes that there is a litany to the Wind-gods mentioned in the Engishiki, a 10th century collection of information on various rituals of the time, so this practice seems to have taken hold, at least enough to persist over 3 centuries later.  Also in the 4th month of 675, Hashibito no Muraji no Ohobuta and Sone no Muraji no Karainu were sent to worship the Oho-imi deity at Kahawa, in Hirose. The Oho-imi appears to be a "big abstinence" deity, whom Aston identifies with Waka'ukahime, responsible for food.  Worship is again paid twice in the year 676, once in 677, then twice again in 679, continuing twice a year, almost exclusively in the 4th and 7th lunar months, through the end of the reign.  Why were these particular deities chosen for special worship by the court?  Ooms notes that these shrines were built downstream along the Yamato river, which, along with its tributaries, was responsible for the irrigation of the crops in the Nara basin.  This mirrors, in some ways, the responsibility of rulers in the Yellow River and Yangzi river regions to help ensure the flow of the rivers while preventing devastating flooding – a very continental idea of the responsibilities of the sovereign, though expressed here with a particularly Japanese style. Indeed, Aston associates the deity at Hirose, with the deity of food.   Likewise, the Wind-deities at Tatsuta were also related to helping to grow crops.  After all, Tatsuta would have been situated near the break in the mountains that surrounds the Nara basin, where the Yamato River flows out towards the Kawachi plain.  As anyone who lives near a mountain gap is no doubt familiar, those areas are notorious for channeling weather phenomena, including storms, which can bring rain, but could also bring terrible winds.  So it does seem a natural point to pray for good weather for your harvest or otherwise, given the geography that made up the sovereign's world. We also have, in this reign, considerably more discussion of Ise than we've seen, previously.  In 673 we have the Royal Princess Ohoku no Himemiko entering the Saigu, the Abstinence, or Purification, Palace, where she was to be purified before going to Ise, which she did in the 10th lunar month of 674.  Ohoku is said to have been the first official Saiou, the unmarried royal princess sent to oversee shrine operations, of Ise Shrine.  This is a practice we see at multiple shrines, although it's most prominent at Ise. The term for the position in general is Saiou, although at Ise the royal princess would also be known as the Saiguu, after the purification palace.  Although Ohoku is said to have been the first Saiguu at Ise, this is muddied somewhat by some earlier mentions in the Chronicles.  There are those who are said to have been sent as Shrine Princesses to Ise back in the time of Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko, but the process was largely discontinued—or at least rarely mentioned—until this period.  There are certainly several named individuals who are said to have served the Deity of Ise previously, starting with the presumably mythical Yamato Hime, who is credited with founding the shrine.  There are also various royal princesses are noted as either having served or as having been made ineligible due to their indiscretions. However, those earlier mentions rarely go into the detail we see here —starting with the abstinence hall, where the would-be Shrine Princess must purify herself prior to approaching the shrine, a process that took some time.  Certainly we first really see this put into action with Ohoku, and from that time the position of Saiguu or Saiou at Ise does appear to have been regularly filled.  That Ohoku was actually the first "Saiguu" shrine princess appears to be confirmed by the "Fusou Ryakki", which states that the first Saiou was appointed when then Prince Ohoama, in the midst of the Jinshin war, made a prayer to Ise and offered the royal princess Ohoku no Himemiko in exchange for victory.  In fact, a lot of the focus on Ise seems to stem from its apparent involvement, at the behest of either Ohoama or his consort, Uno no Sarara Hime, in the conflict. The following year we are told that the Royal Princesses Towochi and Abe proceeded to Ise Shrine as well, though presumably just for a brief visit.  Towochi, you may recall, was Ohoama's daughter who had been married to Ohotomo, aka Koubun Tennou, whom Ohoama had defeated to take the throne.  Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, half-sister to Ohoama's queen, Uno, and would eventually go on to marry the Crown Prince, Kusakabe.  That gives you some idea of the position of those were going to the shrine. Princess Towochi herself would fall ill a few years later in 678.  In fact, it was just as the sovereign himself was preparing to go pay a visit to the abstinence palace, perhaps so that he could also head out to Ise.  The court had a divination to figure out when he would leave, officers had cleared the roads, and the public functionaries were in a line of procession when word came that Princess Towochi, suddenly took ill and died within the palace.  This stopped everything in its tracks, and in that year there was no sacrifice made to the kami of heaven and earth.  I suspect that this was in part due to mourning and in part due to the pollution more generally associated with death. Two weeks later, she was buried at Akaho, and Ohoama raised a lament for her. Later, in 686, we are told that the Royal Princess Taki, the Princess Yamashiro no Hime, and the Lady Ishikawa were all sent to Ise Shrine, though Princess Taki returned in less than a fortnight. Why all this focus on Ise?  Remember that the Chronicles were begun in this era, and so the "truth" they would tell would be the truth that Ohoama and his immediate successors orchestrated. The focus on Amaterasu, her shrine at Ise, and the role of the sovereign as Heavenly Descendant was thus part of the overarching narrative that the Chroniclers tried to promote.  Still, hints that the focus on Ise shrine may have been something largely created in this era, however, are scattered throughout the existing literature, despite the Chroniclers' best efforts. For one thing, it is fairly clear that early on, the focus in the Chronicles is on  Mt. Miwa and the deity  Ohomononushi, rather than Amaterasu.  We also see the fingerprints of deities like Takami no Musubi, who in one story is the one who is actually responsible for sending the Heavenly Grandchild down to earth in the first place. It also seems telling that Amaterasu is not mentioned in earlier court rituals.  Worship of Amaterasu by the royal family takes place at Ise shrine.  Meanwhile, there are various rituals preserved within the traditions of the palace that include many other, seemingly older deities. I have also noted in the past how Ise shrine isn't even the primary shrine of Ise no Kuni.  In fact, that is claimed by Tsubaki shrine, the shrine to Saruta Hiko no Ohokami, with a separate shrine to Ame no Uzume, who are both said to have met the heavenly grandchild on his descent. None of this is to say that Ise Jingu was brand new at the time of the Chronicles' writing —there does seem to have been a shrine on that spot for some time, though even the Chronicles suggest that it might have been moved from a shrine originally housed in the Nara basin.  It is also possible, and even likely, that the rise of Ise and Amaterasu coincided with other trends at the time.  Even if the Sun Goddess had not always been centered in Yamato ritual, she was not a new deity, and it may have been the case that her prominence, and that of her shrine in Ise had been growing in prominence before this time, and so the court was now adopting that popularity for themselves.  Of course, Ohoama and Uno don't exactly spell out what they were attempting to achieve, beyond the unification of the archipelago, more broadly.  How, exactly, their focus on Ise Shrine was meant to play into that I don't know that I could fully state, but it certainly seems to have allowed the sovereign to create a new cultic focus for kami worship with a story that touched on regions from Kyushu all the way to the eastern shore of the Kii peninsula. Given the decentralized nature of kami worship, I don't believe it was possible to completely rewrite all of the stories—hence the numerous and conflicting accounts given in the Chronicles.  However, that is also what would have made it easier to hide newly fabricated—or perhaps simply exaggerated—stories in the mix.  And of course, it wasn't necessarily that the Chroniclers were creating things out of whole cloth, but they were able to choose those things that people would remember and what would be lost and forgotten over time.  They had to make the decision, for instance, which story they told was the "main" storyline, and which were listed as coming from "other books", implying a degree of separation from the truth. Through all of this, it certainly seems that propping up the royal family and its lineage was a central focus—even if that lineage was largely something that had recently been created.  As a reminder, we see a lot heavier reliance at this point on royal princes as opposed to other elite families, and an actual or implied reliance, in particular, on the royal family, as that is where Ohoama was consolidating most of the power and authority. Kitayama Shigeo coined the term "Koushin Seiji" to refer to this idea of a consolidated royal—or imperial—family managing the affairs of state.  Literally it is something like "Imperial Family Government".   In Shigeo's concept this was specifically an autocratic authority executed by the sovereign, and those of his immediate family.  Of course, writing in the post-war era, it is more than a little likely that Shigeo and others were looking at the concept of Tennou in the 20th century compared with many other world monarchs.  In that vein, the Asuka and Nara periods do seem to have been one of the rare times—perhaps even the last time—that the sovereigns had such a direct hand in the government and the making and establishment of law and tradition. That said, not everyone ascribes entirely to the idea that Ohoama was a completely autocratic despot—after all, it was clear that there were still plenty of powerful families in the archipelago, and the Ritsuryo state itself was also being strengthened.  Still, it does seem that Ohoama had brought his queen, Uno no Sarara, and his descendants into government.  And they would not only assist him, but continue his work for the next generations, such that even though the histories would not be finished until well after Ohoama's death, they would still show his influence on events. The dedication of the royal family to work as one is perhaps most clearly demonstrated in the events of the 5th lunar month of 679.  It was then that the sovereign, and his family, proceeded to the Yoshino Palace.  Now Ohoama had plenty of offspring—among them 10 sons.  And as long as he was around, there would be a certain amount of civility, but he knew all too well how things could break down after a sovereign's death.  And so he brought them together and he made them enter into a pact, which we know as the Yoshino Covenant, or Yoshino no Meiyaku.  Besides Ohoama himself, there were several others in attendance, presumably those who might stand to one day inherit the realm.  These included his partner and queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, as well as her son, Prince Kusakabe, who would be named Crown Prince, only a couple of years later.  It also included the Royal princes Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki.  All of these individuals were made to swear an oath to support each other, even though they were all from different mothers, and they agreed. But so what?  Why does it matter?  It is all well and good that Ohoama brought them together for a bit of kumbaya in his old digs away from the capital, but was there anything really to this covenant. This covenant is significant in several ways.  First off, it is clear that Ohoama was pulling in his family and trying to ensure they were onboard with what he was doing and what was planned.  Furthermore, it set out a clear line of succession, something that had not really been done up to this point. We have ideas on what would have made a candidate eligible, but other than naming a particular crown prince there hasn't exactly been any clear process or rules of precedence for who would assume the throne.  Here, though, we have a list that appears to be in order of precedence, since it otherwise may not seem to make sense, at least from a modern perspective. A key clue in the Chronicles is often the order of the names.  The most important or highest ranking person is usually given first, and then names are typically given in descending order of precedence.  There are clues that this is the case, but it becomes even more stark when we actually see reference to an individual's court rank or the size of their fief.  Since this period brings about court rank even for royal princes, we have some of that, at least in later records.  As such, there is the idea that this order was actually providing for a line of succession.   As I mentioned, up to this point, the contest for the throne was a toss up with each monarch's death.  Claims from competing princes were often considered equally valid until one proved their claim through a political or military victory.  Ohoama appears to have been trying to add greater structure to this.  Specifically, we see that Uno no Sarara's son, Kusakabe, is given pride of place.  In fact, throughout the Chronicle it is typical that we see the Chroniclers designate a queen—a Kougou—that is considered the primary wife.  This queen is almost always found to be the descendant of previous royalty, granting their child a doubly royal lineage, through both the maternal and paternal lines.   There has been plenty of reason to doubt that this was actually the case, and it often seems like the Chroniclers stretched things more than a bit to make it all work out.  However, now we are almost more concerned with the very *truth* that the Chroniclers were attempting to burn into the social consciousness rather than the historical facts, because that gives us direct insight into how the court of the day viewed succession and legitimacy.And that does lead to another possible thought:  since the Chroniclers knew how things turned out it is possible that they were the ones ensuring that the order was as we have it.  So we cannot definitively say that this exactly mirrors's Ohoama's idea, but it certainly seems in line with his history and intentions and helps set the stage for us, at least, regarding what would later transpire in regards to succession.. Getting back to the covenant, as I noted, the first person listed, after Ohoama and Uno no Sarara Hime, is Prince Kusakabe.  He would be about 17 or 18 years old at this time, which is probably why he wasn't formally named Crown Prince until a couple of years later.  He isn't the eldest son, however.  Rather he was the second son.  Ohoama's eldest son, Prince Takechi, was actually third in line. Takechihad been with his father helping to lead the troops during the Jinshin War. While he was some 8 years senior to Kusakabe, he was nonetheless a son of Amago no Musume, one of Ohoama's consorts from a powerful clan, but not a royal princess like Uno no Sarara, Kusakabe's mother. Between Kusakabe and Takechi, in the second place spot for succession, was actually Prince Ohotsu, whom we also mentioned during the Jinshin War.  Ohotsu was likely 16-17 years old around this time.  While he was the third eldest child, he, like Kusakabe, was the son of a Royal Princess, Princess Ota, daughter of Naka no Oe, giving him greater bonafides than Takechi, apparently. So, in the top three slots, we have: Ohoama's eldest son by a royal mother, Ohoama's second eldest son by a royal mother, and finally Ohoama's eldest son by a non-royal mother. Fourth in line, and the 4th eldest, presumably, though I don't know that we have an actual age for him, is Prince Wosakabe.  He likely wasn't too young, however, as he had been given the task, previously, to polish the divine treasures in Isonokami's storehouse. It would appear that six of Ohoama's other sons didn't even get a mention.  That includes Princes Naga and Yuge, born to another daughter of Naka no Ohoe, Ohoye no Himemiko.  Then there is Prince Toneri, son of Royal Princess Nittabe, not to be confused with Royal Prince Nittabe, Ohoama's son by way of a daughter of Fujiwara no Kamatari.  Finally there was Royal Prince Hodzumi, a maternal grandson of Soga no Akaye, and Prince Shiki, a full brother to Prince Wosakabe. Prince Toneri is particularly conspicuous in his absence.  We know that he held the 5th rank, and two positions in government—that of Nagon, or Councillor, as well as the Minister of the Household, our Kunaikyou.  This may be because he was not doing so well.  We aren't told the story until the following year, on the 2nd day of the 7th lunar month of 680, when we are told that Prince Toneri took ill and was on the point of death.  His half-brother, Prince Takechi, went to check on him, and a day later Toneri passed away.  The way these are written it would be easy to believe that it all happened in a pretty short timeframe, but it is also just as likely that illness lingered, especially without modern medicine.  So it is possible that Prince Toneri was too sick at the time of the original covenant, though there could be some other reason we weren't told. This doesn't necessarily hold for all of the others, though.  For instance, we have the Princes Naga and Yuge mentioned in 693, well over a decade later, being granted the 2nd Broader Pure Rank at the same time that Prince Takechi is granted the 1st Broader Pure Rank.  So we can at least see that they were ranked below Takechi.   Similarly we see Prince Hodzumi likewise attained 2nd Broader Pure Rank at some point, and was still around to have his own fief and to receive houses to it in the following reign.  Hozumi even ranked above some of the others were in Yoshino, and yet was not present. It is possible that the princes not mentioned, assuming they had not met with an untimely end that was not mentioned in the record somewhere, could have been too young or too junior at the time of the meeting.  After all, when we look at the known ages of those who were there, we see that Prince Takechi may have been 25 years old, but Prince Kusakabe and Prince Otsu were just under 20, and it is unclear if others were older or younger than they were. There are two other princes who were part of the covenant who were not, perhaps surprisingly, sons of Ohoama.  Rather they were his nephews, sons of Ohoama's brother, Naka no Ohoe.  They were the princes Kawashima and Shiki. Kawashima is mentioned several times throughout the record.  Kawashima's mother was from a high ranking noble family, but given that Kawashima was married to his cousin, one of Ohoama's daughters, that may have brought him closer to the family.  He was about 22 years old at the time, too.  We see him often teaming up with Prince Osakabe on various projects, including the project to compile together the history of the royal household.  In fact, Prince Kawashima always precedes Prince Osakabe when they are mentioned together.  That said, we have evidence of Kawashima only being awarded up to 3rd Greater Pure rank, below even that of some who were not present, such as Prince Hodzumi.  His importance and impact, however, is noted through his numerous appearances in the record. In contrast, Prince Shiki has almost no mentions in the record.  It doesn't help that there are two Princes Shiki, one born to Naka no Ohoye and one born to Ohoama.  Their names are spelled differently, however, and although the first character of "Shiki" used in the Yoshino record matches neither name, the second character suggests that this was the son of Naka no Ohoye and not the Shiki that was brother to Prince Osakabe—though given that one followed the other in the record, there may have been some confusion on this point. And with all of that we have our apparent line of succession, as well as an idea of who the movers and shakers might be within the royal family.  From Ohoama and Uno no Sarara, we have Princes Kusakabe, Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki.  Six princes, four directly descended from the current sovereign, Ohoama, and two from the Naka no Ohoe lineage. Obviously, promoting the idea of a strictly patrilineal succession of father to son would have caused some problems for Ohoama's own legitimacy, not that anyone was going to gainsay him while he was on the throne.  However, with Kusakabe they seem to have established that in a de facto format, at least.  Furthermore it provided a blueprint for succession might fall to the other lines should the main line not work out.  This put Prince Ohotsu as next in line, should anything happen to Kusakabe, followed by Takechi.  That Kawashima may have had a shot over Osakabe and then Shiki is interesting as it suggests that it wasn't strictly about who descended from whom. We'll have to wait for Ohoama's death before we can fully appreciate how well this worked, of course.  Throughout history, agreements and covenants amongst powerful interests are often only as permanent as long as all of the interests remain aligned with one another, whether through mutual benefit or threat of consequences.  Once the power shifts, as it always does, those promises and treaties are almost always up for renegotiation, unless they are supported by some higher authority, whatever that might be. Following the royal family's off-site, they returned to the palace in Asuka.  There they had a formal ceremony in the Great Hall, the Ohodono, where the six princes all demonstrated their allegiance and paid respects to Ohoama.  Given the timing of this event, one can likely assume that it was a kind of public acknowledgement of the covenant and the agreement that they would all be working together as a united front on the project of the government. And with that, I think we can bring it to  a close for now.  There is plenty more about this reign to discuss before we move on, but we'll get there. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Hlavná európska prokurátorka bije na poplach. Slovensko sa stalo centrom európskeho zločinu. Až tretina všetkých podvodov s DPH v Únii nejako súvisí so Slovenskom. Prišli sme takto o pol miliardy eur.Ako sa to mohlo stať? Prečo sme si to na Slovensku nevšimli? Chýba nám NAKA či špeciálna prokuratúra? Potrebujeme nový trestný zákon? Aj na množiace sa krádeže a kriminalitu?Za korumpovanie v prospech mafie odsúdení ex špeciálny prokurátor Dušan Kováčik je rozhodnutím ministra spravodlivosti už rok na slobode. Prečo a čo bude ďalej? Smer ponúkol pomoc ministrovi vnútra, ktorý musí pre svoju nečinnosť platiť odškodné odstaveným policajtom. Pomôže Smer takto každému? A prídu si po každého kto bude dávať odkazy premiérovi kriedou na chodník policajti, tak ako si prišli pre študenta v Poprade?Braňo Závodský sa rozprával s ministrom spravodlivosti, nominantom strany Smer – SD Borisom Suskom.

Allâhü Teâlâ buyurdu. “İnsanlardan öyle kimse vardır ki, onun bu dünya hayatına ait sözü senin hoşuna gider ve o, kalbinde olana Allâh'ı şâhid getirir. Halbuki o düşmanların en yamanıdır.” (Bakara s. 204) Hüccetü'l-İslâm İmâm Gazalî (r.âleyh): “Mira', söyleyenini küçük düşürmek ve kendi meziyyetini isbat etmek için bir söze kusur bulmandır” demiştir. Cidâl, mücadelecinin kendi meşrep ve görüşlerini kâbul ettirmeye uğraşmasından ibarettir. Husumet, bir mal veya istenilen bir hakkı elde etmek için konuşmakta gösterilen inattır. Bunlar, İmâm Gazalî (r.âleyh)'in tarifleridir. İmâm Nevevî (r.âleyh) de şöyle der: “Tartışmak bazen hakka dayanır bazen de bâtıla. Nitekim ayet-i kerimede: “İçlerinden zulmedenler müstesna olmak üzere ehl-i kitap'la mücadelenizi sadece en güzel yolla sürdürün.” İmâm Nevevî (r.âleyh) sözlerine devamla diyor ki: “Eğer cidâl hakka dayanırsa onu kâbul ettirmeye uğraşmak övgüye lâyık bir iştir. Şayet cidâl hakkı ortadan kaldırmak, sindirmek için olursa veya bilgisizce yapılırsa, yerilir. İşte cidâlin mubâh oluşu veya yerilişi hakkında gelen bütün naslar bu ölçüye vurulmalıdır.”Büyüklerden biri şöyle diyor: “Husumet kadar dini yok eden, mürüvveti zedeleyen ve kalbi oyalayan başka bir şey bilmiyorum.” Ebû Hüreyre (r.a.)'den, Resûl-i Ekrem (s.a.v.) şöyle buyurdu, dediği rivayet edilmiştir: “Bir dâvada bilgisizce mücadele eden kişi, mücadeleyi bırakıncaya kadar Allâh'ın gazâbında olur. Ebû Ümâme (r.a.)'den, Resûl-i Ekrem (s.a.v.) şöyle buyurdu, dediği rivayet olunmuştur: “Bir toplum, Allâh kendilerine hidayet ettikten sonra sapıtmaz. Meğer ki, münakaşa yapalar.”(İmâm Şemsüddin ez-Zehebî, İslâm Şeriatinde Büyük Günâhlar, s.198)

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

Afty a opary bývají velmi nepříjemné. Zkazit nám můžou rande i dovolenou. Jaký je mezi nimi rozdíl? Radí Kateřina Cajthamlová v pořadu Vesele a zdravě.

McDonald's is back for a second bite in Wānaka, after its original plans for a restaurant were scuppered by super-sized opposition. The fast-food giant has picked a new site and while some locals see it as a more palatable offering, others are worried they won't get a say. Katie Todd reports. 

This episode we start to get more into the material culture of the period with court fashion, as we look at the court robes that went along with the updated court ranks.  Granted, we only have a few resources, but from those it does seem like we can construct at least a plausible idea of what the court may have looked like at this time. For more discussion, check out the blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-137   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 137:  Courtly Fashion. In the New Year's ceremony, the court officials lined up in front of the Kiyomihara Palace, arranged by their relative court rank, dressed in their assigned court robes.  The effect was impressive—the rows of officials painting the courtyard like the bands of color in a rainbow, albeit one with only a couple of hues.  The fact that they were all wearing the same style of dress and black, stiffened gauze hats only added to the effect.  The individual officers were all but lost in what was, at least in outward form, a single, homogenous machine of government, just waiting for the command of their monarch to attend to the important matters of state. We are covering the reign of Ohoama no Ohokimi, aka Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito no Sumera no Mikoto, aka Temmu Tennou.  Last episode we went over the changes he had made to the family titles—the kabane—as well as to the courtly rank system.  For the former, he had consolidated the myriad kabane and traditional titles across Yamato into a series of eight—the Yakusa no Kabane.   These were, from highest to lowest: Mabito, Asomi, Sukune, Imiki, Michinoshi, Omi, Muraji, and Inaki.  By the way, you might notice that "Mabito" actually occurs in Ohoama's posthumous name:  Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito, which lends more credence to the idea that that kabane was for those with a special connection to the royal lineage. Besides simplifying and restructuring the kabane, Ohoama also reformed the court rank system.  He divided the Princely ranks into two categories:  Myou, or Bright, and Jou, or Pure.  For the court nobles the categories were:                Shou – Upright                Jiki – Straight                Gon – Diligent                Mu – Earnest                Tsui – Pursue                Shin – Advancement Each category was further divided into four grades (except for the very first princely category, Myou, which was only two).  Each grade was then further divided into large, "dai", or broad, "kou". And this brings us to our topic today. Along with this new rank system, Ohoama's administration also instituted a new set of court sumptuary laws. Some are vague in the record—we can just make assumptions for what is going on based on what we know from later fashion choices.  Others are a little more clear.  We'll take a look at those sumptuary laws, particularly those that were directly associated with the new court rank system, but we'll also look at the clothing styles more generally. To start with, let's talk about what we know about clothing in the archipelago in general.  Unfortunately, fabric doesn't tend to survive very well in the generally acidic soils of the Japanese archipelago.  Cloth tends to break down pretty quickly.  That said, we have fragments here and there and impressions in pottery, so we have some idea that there was some kind of woven fabric from which to make clothing out of. And before I go too far I want to give a shout out to the amazing people at the Kyoto Costume Museum.  They have a tremendous website and I will link to it in the comments.  While there may be some debate over particular interpretations of historical clothing, it is an excellent resource to get a feel for what we know of the fashion of the various periods.  I'll also plug our own website, SengokuDaimyo.com, which has a "Clothing and Accessory" section that, while more geared towards Heian and later periods, may still be of some use in looking up particular terms and getting to know the clothing and outfits. At the farthest reaches of pre-history, we really don't have a lot of information for clothing.  There is evidence of woven goods in the Jomon period, and we have Yayoi burials with bits of cloth here and there, but these are all scraps.  So at best we have some conjecture as to what people were wearing, and possibly some ability to look across the Korean peninsula and see what people had, there. There are scant to no reliable records from early on in Japanese history, and most of those don't really do a great job of describing the clothing.  Even where we do get something, like the Weizhi, one has to wonder given how they tended to crib notes from other entries. There is at least one picture scroll of interest: Portraits of Periodical Offering of Liang, or Liáng -Zhígòngtú.  It is said to have been painted by Xiao Yi in the early 6th century, and while the original no longer exists there is an 11th century copy from the time of the Song Dynasty.  The scroll shows  various ambassadors to the Liang court, including one from Wa.  The Wa ambassador is shown with what appears to be a wide piece of cloth around his hips and legs, tied in front.  His lower legs are covered in what we might call kyahan today: a rather simple wrap around leg from below the knee to the foot.  He has another, blue piece of cloth around his shoulders, almost like a shawl, and it is also tied in front.  Then there is a cloth wrapped and tied around his head. It's hard to know how much of this depiction is accurate and how much the artist was drawing on memory and descriptions from things like the Weizhi or Wei Chronicles, which stated that the Wa people wore wide cloths wrapped around and seamlessly tied As such, it may be more helpful to look at depictions actually from the archipelago: specifically, some of the human-figured haniwa, those clay cylinders and statues that adorned the burial mounds which gave the kofun period its name.  Some of these haniwa are fairly detailed, and we can see ties, collars, and similar features of clothing. These haniwa primarily seem to cluster towards the end of the Kofun period, in the later 6th century, so it is hard to say how much they can be used for earlier periods, though that is exactly what you will typically see for periods where we have little to know evidence.  I'm also not sure how regional certain fashions might have been, and we could very much be suffering from survivorship bias—that is we only know what survived and assume that was everything, or even the majority. Still, it is something. Much of what we see in these figures is some kind of upper garment that has relatively tight sleeves, like a modern shirt or jacket might have, with the front pieces overlapping create a V-shaped neckline.  The garment hem often hangs down to just above the knee, flaring out away from the body, and it's held closed with ties and some kind of belt, possibly leather in some cases, and in others it looks like a tied loop of cloth.  There is evidence of a kind of trouser, with two legs, and we see ties around the knee.  In some cases, they even have small bells hanging from the ties.  Presumably the trousers might have ties up towards the waist, but we cannot see that in the examples we have. We also see individuals who have no evidence of any kind of bifurcated lower garment.  That may indicate an underskirt of some kind, or possibly what's called a "mo"—but it could also be just a simplification for stability, since a haniwa has a cylindrical base anyway.  It is not always obvious when you are looking at a haniwa figure whether it depicts a man or woman: in some cases there are two dots on the chest that seem to make it obvious, but the haniwa do come from different artisans in different regions, so there is a lot of variability. We also see evidence of what seem to be decorative sashes that are worn across the body, though not in all cases.  There are various types of headgear and hairstyles.  Wide-brimmed and domed hats are not uncommon, and we also see combs and elaborate hairstyles depicted.  On some occasions we can even see that they had closed toed shoes.  For accessories, we see haniwa wearing jewelry, including necklaces (worn by both men and women), bracelets, and earrings.  In terms of actual human jewelry, early shell bracelets demonstrate trade routes, and the distinctive magatama, or comma shaped jewel, can be found in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula, where it is known as "gogok".  Based on lines or even colored pigment on the haniwa, it appears that many of these outfits were actually quite heavily decorated.  Paint on the outfits is sometimes also placed on the face, suggesting that they either painted or tattooed themselves, something mentioned in the Wei Chronicles.  We also have archaeological examples of dyed cloth, so it is interesting that people are often depicted in undyed clothing.  There is one haniwa that I find particularly interesting, because they appear to be wearing more of a round-necked garment, and they have a hat that is reminiscent of the phrygian cap: a conical cap with the top bent forward.  These are traits common to some of the Sogdians and other Persian merchants along the silk road, raising the possibility that it is meant to depict a foreigner, though it is also possible that it was just another local style. If we compare this to the continent, we can see some immediate difference.  In the contemporaneous Sui dynasty, we can see long flowing robes, with large sleeves for men and women.  The shoes often had an upturned placket that appears to have been useful to prevent one from tripping on long, flowing garments.  Many of these outfits were also of the v-neck variety, with two overlapping pieces, though it is often shown held together with a fabric belt that is tied in front.  The hats appear to either be a kind of loose piece of fabric, often described as a turban, wrapped around the head, the ends where it ties together trailing behind, or black lacquered crowns—though there were also some fairly elaborate pieces for the sovereign. As Yamato started to import continental philosophy, governance, and religion, they would also start to pick up on continental fashion.  This seems particularly true as they adopted the continental concept of "cap rank" or "kan-i". Let's go over what we know about this system, from its first mention in the Chronicles up to where we are in Ohoama's reign. As a caveat, there is a lot we don't know about the details of these garments, but we can make some guesses. The first twelve cap-ranks, theoretically established in 603, are somewhat questionable in their historicity, as are so many things related to Shotoku Taishi.  And their names are clearly based on Confucian values:  Virtue, Humanity, Propriety, Faith, Justice, and Wisdom, or Toku, Nin, Rei, Shin, Gi, and Chi.  The five values and then just "Virtue", itself. The existence of this system does seem to be confirmed by the Sui Shu, the Book of Sui, which includes a note in the section on the country of Wa that they used a 12 rank system based on the Confucian values, but those values were given in the traditional Confucian order vice the order given in the Nihon Shoki.   The rank system of the contemporaneous Sui and Tang dynasties was different from these 12 ranks, suggesting that the Yamato system either came from older dynasties—perhaps from works on the Han dynasty or the Northern and Southern Dynasty, periods—or they got it from their neighbors, Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo.  There does seem to be a common thread, though, that court rank was identifiable in one's clothes. As for the caps themselves, what did they look like?  One would assume that the Yamato court just adopted a continental style cap, and yet, which one? It isn't fully described, and there are a number of types of headwear that we see in the various continental courts. Given that, we aren't entirely sure exactly what it looked like, but we do have a couple of sources that we can look at and use to make some assumptions.  These sources l ead us to the idea of a round, colored cap made of fabric, around the brim that was probably the fabric or image prescribed for that rank.  It is also often depicted with a bulbous top, likely for the wearer's hair, and may have been tied to their top knot.     Our main source for this is the Tenjukoku Mandala Embroidery (Tenjukoku-mandara-shuuchou) at Chuuguuji temple, which was a temple built for the mother of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.    This embroidery was created in 622, so 19 years after the 12 ranks would have been implemented. It depicts individuals in round-necked jackets that appear to have a part straight down the center.  Beneath the jacket one can see a pleated hem, possibly something like a "hirami", a wrapped skirt that is still found in some ceremonial imperial robes.  It strikes me that this could also be the hem of something like the hanpi, which was kind of like a vest with a pleated lower edge.  Below that we see trousers—hakama—with a red colored hem—at least on one figure that we can see.  He also appears to be wearing a kind of slipper-like shoe. As for the women, there are a few that appear to be in the mandala, but it is hard to say for certain as the embroidery has been damaged over the years. That said, from what we can tell, women probably would have worn something similar to the men in terms of the jacket and the pleated under-skirt, but then, instead of hakama, we see a pleated full-length skirt, or mo.  We also don't have a lot of evidence for them wearing hats or anything like that. The round necked jacket is interesting as it appears to be similar to the hou that was common from northern China across the Silk Road, especially amongst foreigners.  This garment  came to displace the traditional robes of the Tang court and would become the basis for much of the court clothing from that period, onwards.  The round necked garment had central panels that overlapped, and small ties or fastenings at either side of the neck to allow for an entirely enclosed neckline.  This was more intricate than just two, straight collars, and so may have taken time to adopt, fully. The next change to the cap-rank system was made in 647, two years into the Taika Reform.  The ranks then were more directly named for the caps, or crowns—kanmuri—and their materials and colors.  The ranks translate to Woven, Embroidered, Purple, Brocade, Blue, Black, and finally "Establish Valor" for the entry level rank. The system gets updated two years later, but only slightly.  We still see a reference to Woven stuff, Embroidery, and Purple, but then the next several ranks change to Flower, Mountain, and Tiger—or possibly Kingfisher.  These were a little more removed from the cap color and material, and may have had something to do with designs that were meant to be embroidered on the cap or on the robes in some way, though that is just speculation based on later Ming and Qing court outfits. Naka no Ohoye then updates it again in 664, but again only a little.  He seems to add back in the "brocade" category, swapping out the "flower", and otherwise just adds extra grades within each category to expand to 26 total rank grades. And that brings us to the reforms of 685, mentioned last episode.  This new system was built around what appear to be moral exhortations—Upright, Straight, Diligent, Earnest, etc.  And that is great and all, but how does that match up with the official robes? What color goes with each rank category?  Fortunately, this time around, the Chronicle lays it out for us pretty clearly. First off we are given the color red for the Princely ranks—not purple as one might have thought.  Specifically, it is "Vermillion Flower", hanezu-iro, which Bentley translates as the color of the "Oriental bush" or salmon.  In the blogpost we'll link to a table of colors that the founder of Sengoku Daimyo, Anthony Bryant, had put together, with some explanation of how to apply it.  I would note that there is often no way to know exactly what a given color was like or what shades were considered an acceptable range.  Everything was hand-dyed, and leaving fabric in the dye a little longer, changing the proportions, or just fading over time could create slightly different variants in the hue, but we think we can get pretty close. From there we have the six "common" ranks for the nobility.  Starting with the first rank, Upright, we have "Dark Purple".  Then we have "Light Purple".  This pattern continues with Dark and Light Green and then Dark and Light Grape or Lilac.  Purple in this case is Murasaki, and green here is specifically Midori, which is more specifically green than the larger category of "Aoi", which covers a spectrum of blue to green.  The grape or lilac is specifically "suou", and based on Bentley's colors it would be a kind of purple or violet. The idea is that the official court outfits for each rank would be the proper color.  And yes, that means if you get promoted in rank, your first paycheck—or rice stipend—is probably going to pay for a new set of official clothes.  Fortunately for the existing court nobles at the time, in the last month of 685, the Queen provided court clothing for 55 Princes and Ministers, so they could all look the part. And the look at court was important.  In fact, several of the edicts from this time focus specifically on who was allowed—or expected—to wear what.  For instance, in the 4th month of 681, they established 92 articles of the law code, and among those were various sumptuary laws—that is to say, laws as to what you could wear.  We are told that they applied to everyone from Princes of the blood down to the common person, and it regulated the wearing of precious metals, pearls, and jewels; the type of fabric one could use, whether purple, brocade, embroidery, or fine silks; and it also regulated woollen carpets, caps, belts, and the colors of various things. And here I'd like to pause and give some brief thought to how this played into the goals of the court, generally, which is to say the goal of creating and establishing this new system of governance in the cultural psyche of the people of the archipelago.  From the continental style palaces, to the temples, and right down to the clothing that people were wearing, this was all orchestrated, consciously or otherwise, to emphasize and even normalize the changes that were being introduced.  When everything around you is conforming to the new rules, it makes it quite easy for others to get on board. The court had surrounded themselves with monumental architecture that was designed along continental models and could best be explained through continental reasoning.  Even if they weren't Confucian or Daoist, those lines of reasoning ran through the various cultural and material changes that they were taking up.  Sure, they put their own stamp on it, but at the same time, when everything is right in front of you, it would become that much harder to deny or push back against it. And when you participated in the important rituals of the state, the clothing itself became a part of the pageantry.  It reinforced the notion that this was something new and different, and yet also emphasized that pushing against it would be going against the majority.  So court uniforms were another arm of the state's propaganda machine, all designed to reinforce the idea that the heavenly sovereign—the Tennou—was the right and just center of political life and deserving of their position.  Getting back to the sumptuary laws and rank based regulations: It is unfortunate that the record in the Nihon Shoki doesn't tell us exactly how things were regulated, only that they were, at least in some cases.  So for anything more we can only make assumptions based on later rules and traditions.  A few things we can see right away, though.  First is the restriction of the color purple.  Much as in Europe and elsewhere in the world, getting a dark purple was something that was not as easy as one might think, and so it tended to be an expensive dye and thus it would be restricted to the upper classes—in this case the princely and ministerial rank, no doubt.  Similarly brocade and fine silks were also expensive items that were likely restricted to people of a particular social station for that reason. The mention of woolen rugs is particularly intriguing.  Bentley translates this as woven mattresses, but I think that woolen rugs makes sense, as we do have examples of woolen "rugs" in Japan in at least the 8th century, stored in the famous Shousouin repository at Toudaiji temple, in Nara.  These are all imported from the continent and are actually made of felt, rather than woven.  As an imported item, out of a material that you could not get in the archipelago, due to a notable lack of sheep, they would have no doubt been expensive. The funny thing is that the carpets in the Shousouin may not have been meant as carpets.  For the most part they are of a similar size and rectangular shape, and one could see how they may have been used as sleeping mattresses or floor coverings.  However, there is some conjecture that they came from the Silk Road and may have been originally meant as felt doors for the tents used by the nomadic steppe peoples.  This is only conjecture, as I do not believe any of these rugs have survived in the lands where they would have been made, but given the size and shape and the modern yurt, it is not hard to see how that may have been the case.  Either way, I tend to trust that this could very well have meant woolen rugs, as Aston and the kanji themselves suggest, though I would understand if there was confusion or if it meant something else as wool was not exactly common in the archipelago at that time or in the centuries following. The last section of the regulations talks about the use of caps and belts.  The caps here were probably of continental origin:  The kanmuri, or official cap of state of the court nobles, or the more relaxed eboshi—though at this time, they were no doubt closely related. In fact, a year later, we have the most specific mention to-date of what people were actually wearing on their heads: there is a mention of men tying up their hair and wearing caps of varnished gauze.  Earlier caps related to the cap rank system are often thought to be something like a simple hemisphere  that was placed upon the head, with a bulbous top where the wearer's hair could be pulled up as in a bun. The kanmuri seems to have evolved from the soft black headcloth that was worn on the continent, which would have tied around the head, leaving two ends hanging down behind.  Hairstyles of the time often meant that men had a small bun or similar gathering of hair towards the back of their head, and tying a cloth around the head gave the effect of a small bump.  This is probably what we see in depictions of the early caps of state.  Sometimes this topknot could be covered with a small crown or other decoration, or wrapped with a cloth, often referred to as a "Tokin" in Japanese.  But over time we see the development of hardened forms to be worn under a hat to provide the appropriate silhouette, whether or not you actually had a topknot (possibly helpful for gentlemen suffering from hair loss).  And then the hat becomes less of a piece of cloth and more just a hat of black, lacquered gauze made on a form, which was much easier to wear.  At this point in the Chronicle, the cap was likely still somewhat malleable, and would made to tie or be pinned to that bun or queue of hair.  This explains the mention of men wearing their hair up.  This pin would become important for several different types of headgear, but ties were also used for those who did not have hair to hold the hat on properly. Two years after the edict on hats, we get another edict on clothing, further suggesting that the court were wearing Tang inspired clothing.  In 685 we see that individuals are given leave to wear their outer robe either open or tied closed. This is a clue that this outer robe might something akin to the round-necked hou that we see in the Tenjukoku Mandala, where the neck seems to close with a small tie or button.  However, we do see some examples, later, of v-necked garments with a tie in the center of the neck, so that may be the reference..  Opening the collar of the formal robes was somewhat akin to loosening a necktie, or unbuttoning the top button of a shirt.  It provided a more relaxed and comfortable feeling.  It could also be a boon in the warm days of summer.  Leaving it closed could create a more formal appearance. The courtiers also had the option of whether or not to wear the "Susotsuki", which Bentley translates as "skirt-band".  I believe this refers to the nai'i, or inner garment.  This would often have a pleated hem—a suso or ran—which would show below the main robe as just a slight hem.  Again, this is something that many would dispense with in the summer, or just when dressing a bit more casually, but it was required at court, as well as making sure that the tassles were tied so that they hung down.  This was the uniform of the court.  We are also told that they would have trousers that could be tied up, which sounds like later sashinuki, though it may have referred to something slightly different.  We are also given some regulations specifically for women, such as the fact that women over 40 years of age were allowed the discretion on whether or not to tie up their hair, as well as whether they would ride horses astride or side-saddle.  Presumably, younger women did not get a choice in the matter.  Female shrine attendants and functionaries were likewise given some leeway with their hairstyles. A year later, in 686, they do seem to have relaxed the hairstyles a bit more: women were allowed to let their hair down to their backs as they had before, so it seems that, for at least a couple of years, women under the age of 40 were expected to wear their hair tied up in one fashion or another. In that same edict, men were then allowed to wear "habakimo".  Aston translates this as "leggings" while Bentley suggests it is a "waist skirt".  There are an example of extant habakimo in the Shousouin, once again, and they appear to be wrappings for the lower leg.  It actually seems very closely related to the "kyahan" depicted all the way back in the 6th century painting of the Wo ambassador to Liang. Even though these edicts give a lot more references to clothing, there is still plenty that is missing.  It isn't like the Chroniclers were giving a red carpet style stitch-by-stitch critique of what was being worn at court.  Fortunately, there is a rather remarkable archaeological discovery from about this time. Takamatsuzuka is a kofun, or ancient burial mound, found in Asuka and dated to the late 7th or early 8th century.  Compared to the keyhole shaped tombs of previous centuries, this tomb is quite simple: a two-tiered circular tomb nestled in the quiet hills.  What makes it remarkable is that the inside of the stone burial chamber was elaborately painted.  There are depictions of the four guardian animals, as well as the sun and the moon, as well as common constellations.  More importantly, though, are the intricate pictures of men and women dressed in elaborate clothing. The burial chamber of Takamatsuzuka is rectangular in shape.  There are images on the four vertical sides as well as on the ceiling.  The chamber is oriented north-south, with genbu, the black tortoise, on the north wall and presumably Suzaku, the vermillion bird, on the south wall—though that had been broken at some point and it is hard to make out exactly what is there. The east and west walls are about three times as long as the north and south walls.  In the center of each is a guardian animal—byakko, the white tiger, on the west wall and seiryuu, the blue—or green—dragon on the east.  All of these images are faded, and since opening of the tomb have faded even more, so while photos can help, it may require a bit more investigation and some extrapolation to understand all of what we are looking at. On the northern side of both the east and west wall we see groups of four women.  We can make out green, yellow, and red or vermillion outer robes with thin fabric belt sashes, or obi, tied loosely and low around the waist.  There is another, lightly colored—possibly white, cream or pink—that is so faded it is hard to make out, and I don't know if that is the original color.  These are v-necked robes, with what appear to be ties at the bottom of the "v".  Around the belt-sash we see a strip of white peaking out from between the two sides of the robe—most likely showing the lining on an edge that has turned back slightly.  The cuffs of the robe are folded back, showing a contrasting color—either the sleeves of an underrobe or a lining of some kind.  Below the outer robe is a white, pleated hem—possibly a hirami or similar, though where we can make it out, it seems to be the same or similar color as the sleeves.  Under all of that, they then have a relatively simple mo, or pleated skirt.  The ones in the foreground are vertically striped in alternating white, green, red, and blue stripes.  There is one that may just be red and blue stripes, but I'm not sure.  In the background we see a dark blue—and possibly a dark green—mo.  At the base of each mo is a pleated fringe that appears to be connected to the bottom of the skirt.  The toe of a shoe seems to peek out from underneath in at least one instance.  They don't have any obvious hair ornaments, and their hair appears to be swept back and tied in such a way that it actually comes back up in the back, slightly.  They appear to be holding fans and something that might be a fly swatter—a pole with what looks like tassels on the end. In comparison, at the southern end of the tomb we have two groups of men.  These are much more damaged and harder to make out clearly.  They have robes of green, yellow, grey, blue, and what looks like dark blue, purple, or even black.  The neckline appears to be a v-necked, but tied closed, similar to what we see on the women.  We also see a contrasting color at the cuff, where it looks like the sleeves have turned back, slightly.  They have belt-sashes similar to the women, made of contrasting fabric to the robe itself.  Below that we see white trousers, or hakama, and shallow, black shoes.  On some of the others it is suggested that maybe they have a kind of woven sandal, but that is hard to make out in the current image.  On their heads are hats or headgear of black, stiffened—probably lacquered—gauze.  They have a bump in the back, which is probably the wearer's hair, and there is evidence of small ties on top and larger ties in the back, hanging down.  Some interpretations also show a couple with chin straps, as well, or at least a black cord that goes down to the chin.  They carry a variety of implements, suggesting they are attendants, with an umbrella, a folding chair, a pouch worn around the neck, a pole or cane of some kind, and a bag with some kind of long thing—possibly a sword or similar. The tomb was originally found by farmers in 1962, but wasn't fully examined until 1970, with an excavation starting in 1972.  The stone at the entryway was broken, probably from graverobbers, who are thought to have looted the tomb in the Kamakura period.  Fortunately, along with the bones of the deceased and a few scattered grave goods that the robbers must have missed, the murals also survived, and somehow they remained largely intact through the centuries.  They have not been entirely safe, and many of the images are damaged or faded, but you can still make out a remarkable amount of detail, which is extremely helpful in determining what clothing might have looked like at this time—assuming it is depicting local individuals. And there is the rub, since we don't know exactly whom the tomb was for.  Furthermore, in style it has been compared with Goguryeo tombs from the peninsula, much as nearby Kitora kofun is.  Kitora had images as well, but just of the guardian animals and the constellations, not of human figures. There are three theories as to who might have been buried at Takamatsuzuka.  One theory is that it was one of Ohoama's sons.  Prince Osakabe is one theory, based on the time of his death and his age.  Others have suggested Prince Takechi.  Based on the teeth of the deceased, they were probably in their 40s to 60s when they passed away. Some scholars believe that it may be a later, Nara period vassal—possibly, Isonokami no Maro.  That would certainly place it later than the Asuka period. The third theory is that it is the tomb of a member of one of the royal families from the Korean peninsula—possibly someone who had taken up refuge in the archipelago as Silla came to dominate the entire peninsula.  This last theory matches with the fact that Takamatsuzuka appears to be similar to tombs found in Goguryeo, though that could just have to do with where the tomb builders were coming from, or what they had learned. That does bring up the question of the figures in the tomb.  Were they contemporary figures, indicating people and dress of the court at the time, or were they meant to depict people from the continent?  Without any other examples, we may never know, but even if was indicative of continental styles, those were the very styles that Yamato was importing, so it may not matter, in the long run.     One other garment that isn't mentioned here is the hire, a scarf that is typically associated with women.  It is unclear if it has any relationship to the sashes we see in the Kofun period, though there is at least one mention of a woman with a hire during one of the campaigns on the Korean peninsula.  Later we see it depicted as a fairly gauzy piece of silk, that is worn somewhat like a shawl.  It is ubiquitous in Sui and Tang paintings of women, indicating a wide-ranging fashion trend.  The hire is a fairly simple piece of clothing, and yet it creates a very distinctive look which we certainly see, later. Finally, I want to take a moment to acknowledge that almost everything we have discussed here has to do with the elites of society—the nobles of the court.  For most people, working the land, we can assume that they were probably not immediately adopting the latest continental fashions, and they probably weren't dressing in silk very much.  Instead, it is likely that they continued to wear some version of the same outfits we see in the haniwa figures of the kofun period.  This goes along with the fact that even as the elite are moving into palaces built to stand well above the ground, we still have evidence of common people building and living in pit dwellings, as they had been for centuries.  This would eventually change, but overall they stuck around for quite some time.  However, farmers and common people are often ignored by various sources—they aren't often written about, they often aren't shown in paintings or statues, and they did often not get specialized burials.  Nonetheless, they were the most populous group in the archipelago, supporting all of the rest. And with that, I think we will stop for now.  Still plenty more to cover this reign.  We are definitely into the more historical period, where we have more faith in the dates—though we should remember that this is also one of the reigns that our sources were specifically designed to prop up, so we can't necessarily take everything without at least a hint of salt and speculation, even if the dates themselves are more likely to be accurate. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

La posta è sempre alta: come scalare Bitcoin. Arkade delude parzialmente le aspettative e la ricerca continua.Inoltre: Christine Lagarde al mercato, il fork BIP-444 e tutte le sue assurdità, e il PlanP Forum di Lugano si conferma l'evento finance di riferimento.It's showtime!

W Poranku Radia Wnet poseł Konfederacji Bartłomiej Pejo ocenił, że “każde prawo unijne, które przychodzi do Polski jest nie implementowany wprost, tylko jest stosowana nadregulacja”.Jak mówił, podobnie jest w kwestii projektu dotyczącego krajowego systemu cyberbezpieczeństwa. Ostrzegł, że rządowy projekt wdrażający unijne regulacje (m.in. NIS2 i tzw. toolbox) może uderzyć w tysiące firm, samorządy i media, wymuszając wymianę sprzętu który nie jest pochodzenia europejskiego.Wszystkie te komputery, które w Chinach są produkowane będą musiały być wymienione w odpowiednim czasie– mówił wyjaśniając, że koszty poniosą polscy przedsiębiorcy, wszystkie punkty działalności gospodarczej. Zdaniem polityka, zapowiadane przepisy pójdą dalej niż sama dyrektywa.Będą urządzenia “dopuszczone” i “niedopuszczone”, a kryteria zatwierdzania sprzętu stworzą rynek selekcji pod auspicjami Brukseli. To miliony, jeśli nie miliardy kosztów– wskazał.Pejo podkreśla, że realne ryzyko leży częściej w „czynniku ludzkim” niż w pochodzeniu urządzeń: „Problemem są procedury i kultura bezpieczeństwa, a nie sam kraj produkcji”.Polityk przestrzega, że obowiązkowa wymiana komputerów i urządzeń „nieeuropejskich” dotknie szczególnie MŚP, redakcje, drukarnie oraz instytucje publiczne.Państwa radio, przedsiębiorcy – wszyscy zapłacą za listy "sprzętu zakazanego"– mówił, dodając, że za procesem „stoi duży lobbing i wielkie pieniądze”.W szerszym kontekście cyfrowym Pejo krytykuje również krajową ustawę wdrażającą DSA.Grozi nam przede wszystkim cenzura. I to trzeba powiedzieć jasno. Architekci tej ustawy mówią, że walczą o dobro, o ochronę. Przede wszystkim podpierają się dziećmi, młodzieżą, ochronę dóbr osobistych i tak dalej. W piękne słowa to wszystko ubierają, a tak naprawdę kryje się za tym cenzura– mówił.Powstaje urząd cenzorski – prezes UKE będzie mógł uznaniowo blokować treści i nawet całe portale pod hasłem walki z "dezinformacją" czy "mową nienawiści"– mówił.Według niego sygnaliści oraz mechanizmy zgłoszeń „zamienią spór polityczny w filtr treści”, a krytyka Zielonego Ładu czy polityki klimatycznej „może być wycinana jako ‘dezinformacja'”.

Naka uli si Atty Drew, so quick catch up. Iyang balay haunted house?Worth it ba ang decision to work far from the family?

Minister vnútra vymenoval Janu Maškarovú za policajnú prezidentku. Generálka Maškarová bola doteraz len poverenou šéfkou zboru. Podľa zákona musela absolvovať vypočutie v parlamente. A to sa podarilo až po deviatich mesiacoch. Policajná šéfka musí riešiť nedostatok policajtov kriminalitu v mestách a obciach na čo sa otvorené sťažujú starostovia a primátori.Atentátnik Juraj Cintula bol medzi tým na prvom stupni odsúdení za atentát na premiéra. Podľa súdu tak spáchal teroristický čin. Ozvala sa aj rodina s havárie so šéfom tajnej služby a spochybnila slová Pavla Gašpara o tom, čo sa na mieste nehode pod nitrianskym Zoborom vlastne dialo.Kto je Jana Maškarová a ako zvláda policajný zbor? Prečo sa starostovia sťažujú, že v ich mestách dramaticky rastie kriminalita a ľudia sa necítia bezpečne? Aké sú skutočné dáta? A prečo je toľko nejasností okolo nehody šéfa tajnej služby na jeho žltom americkom športiaku?Braňo Závodský sa rozprával s bývalým riaditeľom Národnej kriminálnej agentúry a právnikom nadácie Zastavme korupciu Ľubomírom Daňkom a prezidentom Únie miest Slovenska a primátorom Trenčína Richardom Rybníčkom.

This episode looks at the Kabane and Court Rank systems in light of the changes made during this reign, in 684 and 685.  We go a bit more in depth on the kabane, what they were, and how they were organized, prior to the reorganization that took place at the end of the 8th century into just 8 kabane, total.   For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-136   Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 136: Kabane and Court Rank   Mononobe no Muraji no Ujimaro was in a foul mood.  Once more he had been passed over for promotion, and so he continued to toil away, tallying reports as they came in from the various provinces across the kingdom. Meanwhile, Hasama no Atahe no Woshibi was now his superior, with an exalted rank and the generous stipend that came with it.  Ujimaro fumed—he was Mononobe, and his family had once all but ruled Yamato.  Though they had been perhaps reduced in circumstances since then, they still proudly held to their place as a Muraji family—a distinction that demonstrated their superior pedigree.  Meanwhile, Woshibi was from the Hasama family.  Sure, his relative, Nemaro, had been one of those on the front lines in the recent conflict, but still, his family was only atahe.  Honestly, a Mononobe was supposed to take orders from someone of an Atahe family? But this was the new way of things.  The ancient traditions were no longer enough—you had to work hard and make sure way up through this new court rank system if you wanted to succeed.  Ujimaro grumbled, but there was little he could do in the moment.  Nonetheless, he couldn't help but think about how the natural order of the world was somehow turned upside down…     Greetings and welcome back, everyone. We are working our way through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  This reign spanned fourteen years, if you include the Jinshin year of 672, though it is broken into two narratives in the Nihon Shoki.  The first chapter covers the year of the disturbance, the Jinshin no Ran, when Ohoama fought with the Afumi court, who supported his nephew, Ohotomo, on the throne.  We've covered that turbulent period previously.  The second chapter covers the other 13 years of Ohoama's reign. Last episode we covered the first year of Ohoama sitting properly on the throne.  The year 673 included Ohoama's ascension; the confirmation, continuation, and evolution of the Ritsuryou system instituted during Naka no Oe's time; as well as various ceremonies around Ohoama's ascension to the throne, including the first verifiable “Daijosai”, the specialized harvest ceremony for the first harvest season of the reign. This episode we are going to try and tackle something that people have sent in questions about.  We've touched on it here and there, but I really want to get into the Kabane system—that ancient practice of family titles that were like a collective rank system.  It was during Ohoama's reign that the court made major reforms to the kabane system and restructured it pretty extensively.  At the same time, the kabane system was gradually being replaced by other systems of displaying one's status in society—such as the court rank system, which was also revised this reign.  Eventually, without the same purpose as before, kabane would fade away, with a few remaining as honorifics and titles, but at this point they were still important.  So we'll get into both of these status systems  and discuss a little bit about what that meant for the people of the late 7th century court. From the beginning of Ohoama's reign, the court had continued to implement the cap-rank system, most recently amended in 664, by Ohoama's brother, Naka no Ohoye.  With the new rank system of 685, the format changed considerably. To better understand this, let's talk about the rank systems in Yamato and how we have gotten to this point.  We'll want to start with the kabane, and to do that, I want to take us back to a much earlier time. As you may recall, in the oldest stories in the Nihon Shoki, the Kojiki, and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, most individuals only have a single name, or they are known by the name of a location and a title.  Iware Hiko, for example, with Hiko and Hime being general masculine and feminine terms for elites from a given area.  From this, it would appear as though there was no such thing as a “family” name in early Wa societies. As I've pointed out before, that does not mean that there were not families, of course, or that lineage and family relationships were not important; we do see familial relationships, and we see concepts of lateral inheritance—from brother to brother rather than necessarily from father to son.  The rules behind such inheritance seem to have been rather malleable, however. And that all makes some sense in a society where most people are dealing with the people of their village and surrounding communities—there is no need for anything more than a given name.  Otherwise one's place of origin or their profession could easily be used to identify any given individual.  Even the elites would be known by the territory they control. I mention all of this because some of the earliest terms we see as “kabane” appear to be titular in nature—that is to say they are derived from ancient titles.  Hiko, Hime, Wake, Mimi, and Ushi are all terms we see from the ancient past, commonly found in the names of sovereigns, among other things. It isn't until some time in about the 5th century that we start to see the family units arise.  These started as something like a corporate group or guild: Those who looked after horses were all labelled as Umakai, while those who worked jade and made magatama jewels were labelled as Tamatsukuribe.  These groups or “be” were familial in that they were structured much as a family, with a single family head.  That gave the ruler a single point of contact to presumably administer all of the work that particular corporate group was expected to perform.  Furthermore, the name passed to their children, who would presumably have been brought up in the family business.  For some of these families, rather than overseeing a business, craft, or similar thing, they were, instead, administrators of a given region or locality.  We might think of these as chiefly families, overseeing domains of varying sizes.  These families were known as “uji”.  This is often translated in English as “clan”, which is an overloaded term used to describe a group that all claim familial descent from a single putative ancestor—whether real or fictional.  Many of the earliest uji were created as “-be” groups:  Abe, Mononobe, Imbe, Kataribe, etc., but they eventually started dropping “-be” altogether: Inukahi, Umakahi, Soga, Nakatomi, Wani, and the like.  For these Uji, many were connected to various deities, or kami, from which they claimed descent.  These kami are thought to be some of the original ujigami, though that term later came to be applied to various kami that were seen as guardians of a particular locale, and later uji need not claim direct descent from a kami for it to be special.  For example, the main deity of Kasuga Taisha, the shrine built in Nara in the 8th century, said to house the ujigami of the Nakatomi and Fujiwara, primarily pays worship to Takemikazuchi no Mikoto and Futsunushi no Mikoto, deities brought from the east.  Takemikazuchi is considered an ujigami of the two uji, but the oyagami, the actual parent or ancestral kami from which they claim direct lineage, would be Ame no Koyane no Mikoto, who is also worshipped as the third deity at the shrine. The fact that these uji operate more like clans means that they were made up of numerous family units, who might be scattered across the archipelago.  At the head of each uji would have been a central family to provide the uji leadership and interface with the court.  Nonetheless, they were all considered the same uji, and a rise in the fortunes of the uji applied to all of its disparate members. To be clear, there were titles attached to individual names, Sukune, for example, which is one we've encountered several times in the narrative.  Professor Kan'ichi Asakawa, in his work “The Early Institutional Life of Japan”, provides an overview of some of these corporate titles, that came to be known as “kabane”.     In all likelihood, they all had a straightforward meaning at some point.  “Omi” means minister, for example, and continues to be used in that sense—as well as as a title—up through at least the 7th century.  Another common kabane that we see is “Muraji”, which appears to originally reference someone in charge of a village or similar polity.  Asakawa suggests that it comes from Mura no Ushi, with “Ushi” meaning something like “lord” and showing up elsewhere as well.  “Kimi” also appears to be demonstrating some kind of hegemony over a land. Beyond that, here are a few others that we have seen:  Atahe—or Atai—as well as Suguri, which appears to truly be a lower level village headmaster.  Then there is Agata-nushi, aka Agata No Ushi, the Lord of an Agata, or district.  Asakawa also notes Wake, Inaki, Sukune, Kishi, and Tamitsukasaas other kabane. The kabane are interesting in that they do appear to be precedental—that is to say that there does appear to be some kind of hierarchy in terms of the social position of each uji.  The kabane did not, however, confer any particular resources.  There was no stipend attached to a given kabane, though certain court positions were only open to members of uji with the appropriate kabane.  Perhaps most notable in this are the Omi and the Muraji, which were the only two family types that held the supreme court positions—what we would likely refer to as “Prime Minister”.  These included families such as the Ohotomo no Muraji, the Mononobe no Muraji, the Kose no Omi, and the Soga no Omi.  The heads of these families had a special title—the Ohomuraji or the Oho-omi, the Great Muraji and the Great Omi.  These positions were placed at the top of the court system, allowing them unrivaled access to the levers of power.  Typically there were two to three of these individuals at any given time, down to as few as one during the height of the Soga no Omi's power and influence. It is unclear if all uji at the Omi and Muraji level had a designated Oho-Omi or Oho-Muraji at their head, or if that was only for those who were in actual positions at the top of the court structure. It is also unclear if the precedence between the Omi and Muraji was always fixed.  Early on, we see Muraji houses that appear to be holding the majority of the powerful positions, and later we see the ascendancy of the Omi households.  By the 7th century, however, it appears that Omi came first, followed by Muraji, based on the order that individuals are frequently named in the Chronicles, among other things. As for the other titles, some of them we believe we know, and others are more of a mystery.  The origin of “wake” and “kimi” are rather obscure, though they both appear to have something to do with territorial rule and belong to uji that lay some kind of claim to a blood relationship with the royal house.  Some of them may have been rulers in their own lands, prior to Yamato hegemony. “Inaki” may be related to rice castle, or storehouse, and seems to have referred to one of the smallest local units.  That also means we rarely see it in the narrative, which tended to focus on those more closely tied to the court and the royal house.  Asakawa notes that the Atahe, or Atai, seems to be for uji who possessed some amount of private land and private soldiery, but we don't know much more.  Asakawa also points out that the Suguri, Tamitsukasa, and the Kishi kabane all seem to be related to groups with ties to the continent—perhaps descended from immigrant groups.  The Kuni no Miyatsuko and the Agata-nushi are the titles with the clearest seeming ties to territorial hegemony.  “Kuni” is the term for the ancient lands, such as Yamato, Kibi, Kenu, Koshi, etc. There seem to be around 140 such “kuni” described in the archipelago.  Agata, on the other hand, were much smaller districts.  While some of these district names have survived, it is hard, if not impossible, to know exactly how many of them there were. Then you have this term: “Miyatsuko”.  Breaking that apart, he translates it as child or servant—ko—of the exalted house—miya.  Taken together, these appear to reference the elite families in charge of overseeing territorial lands.We also see another term that uses “Miyatsuko”:  Tomo no Miyatsuko.  Unlike Kuni no Miyatsuko, Tomo no Miyatsuko is a term representing a group, rather than a kabane attached to an individual family.  When the sovereign addresses the court, for example, he typically addresses the Omi, the Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko and the Kuni no Miyatsuko. Asakawa proposed that, technically, all of these could fall under the term “Miyatsuko” as servants of the sovereign's house.  Rather than focusing on specifics of all the myriad kabane, however, Asakawa treats them broadly as the Omi, Muraji, Tomo no Miyatsuko, and Kuni no Miyatsuko.  The Omi and the Muraji we already touched on.  They were the houses that could, among other things, supply the court with their Ohoomi and Ohomuraji—their prime ministers.  So it makes some sense.  The Tomo no Miyatsuko and the Kuni no Miyatsuko are a little more tricky  to pin down, but Asakawa suggests that, ased on what we can tell, the heads of the Omi, Muraji, and Tomo no Miyatsuko likely attended court on a regular basis and lived nearby, whereas the Kuni no Miyatsuko were those whose heads dwelt elsewhere, likely because they were the local elites in various other areas of the archipelago.  This is in the name—the term “tomo” might be thought of as being “with” someone, and at one point it is suggested  that the Tomo no Miyatsuko are related to those who traced kinship back to the kami who originally descended from the Plain of Heaven.  However, among the myriad kabane, not all of them were strictly local, and we find some kabane doing double duty for both local and geographically dispersed uji.  Thus he also suggested that Kuni no Miyatsuko, though it was a kabane in its own right, also represented the other forms of territorial elite titles—all those who did not regularly attend the court, but instead administered their own lands.   Richard Miller, in his work, “Ancient Japanese Nobility”, does provide a suggested hierarchy of the kabane.  I don't know if I completely agree, as I think that it was a lot more complicated across the entire archipelago, but nonetheless I'll add the information to the blogpost page if you want to see at least one suggestion of relative precedence between uji of different kabane. Now let's not forget that not everyone was a member of an uji.  For one thing, the royal family—both the sovereign's immediate family and Princes who claimed a more distant relationship—were exempt from the Uji-Kabane system.  Also, the commoners, those who actually toiled and worked the land, likewise would not have been included in a given Uji.  The Uji may have directed production, and even included certain artisans, but it still only included those who were tied, in some way, to the government. Now while the Uji-Kabane system may have started as titles with actual meanings—that is to say that the names and titles were essentially indicative of a group's role in society—it didn't take too long for it to become a little more abstract.  After all, generation after generation, people change.   Individuals vied for power and position in the court and elsewhere, and one's uji may rise, and even fall, depending on how they were able to succeed in the political climate of the day.  This was augmented with the marriage politics which no doubt was conducted as much between the elite families as well as with the royal family.  And then there were the branch or cadet families.  For example, let's say that the head of a family has four children.  Each one of those children could theoretically succeed their father—if his own siblings don't do so.  With each generation, the familial ties get weaker, and smaller, sub-houses could form.  If the uji was geographically dispersed, then local branches could become more or less independent. All of this seems to have caused not a small bit of confusion, and thus we get an edict in the last months of 682: it instructed all of the uji to ensure that they had a senior member—an uji-no-kami or ko-no-kami, with “kami”, in this instance, meaning top or head, rather than deity.  This family head was to be reported to the government, presumably so that the government knew exactly who was in charge of each family.  If there were too many people in a given uji, then they were encouraged to split themselves up and submit their own heads, with government officials adjudicating the decision.  Finally, they are exhorted not to include any people that do not belong. A few things this seems to indicate.  First is that the government did not have a handle on all of the different families out there, which makes some sense.  It had been many generations since the uji had been initially set up, and the State had gone through a lot in that period.  It may also indicate that there were those making a false claim to a family name specifically for the added prestige.  How difficult would it be to claim to be a member of a prominent family that just happened to have been from a far-flung, out of the way branch?  We see this in the 10th century with the Oushu Fujiwara—a family in Tohoku, around the region of Hiraizumi, who claimed descent from the famous Fujiwara family.  Of course, the Fujiwara family by that point had grown so large, that it was next to impossible to check any such claim.  How much moreso in the age before written records were common? We've seen examples where different parts of a given Uji were recorded separately.  For example, the Aya were split early on into different groups, with the Yamato no Aya being perhaps the most often referenced, but we also have the Kawachi no Aya—the Aya from Kawachi.  And then we have the Inukahi, where we see the Ama no Inukahi and the Agata no Inukahi, referring to the Inukahi of the Sea and the Inukahi of the District, though sometimes just a reference to “Inukahi”. Of course, it also seems that these branch families maintained the kabane of the original. Over time, uji were promoted, but rarely were they demoted.  And so, over time, more and more uji are counted among the ranks of the Omi and the Muraji. At the same time, the court was changing.  With the Taika reforms and the development of the ritsuryo codes, the Uji-kabane system was no longer required for managing the realm.  Furthermore, the government was centralizing land and the produce thereof.  And so they instituted the cap-rank system, a more explicit system of rank within the court that was held by the individual, not by the entire uji.  In addition, cap-rank could be tied directly to a stipend, making the court officers more dependent on the central government, rather than on their own uji's resources. Early on, it is likely that higher cap rank was given to members of the more highly exalted uji, as those were the uji that also filled the upper echelons of government and therefore would have been best prepared to succeed in those roles.  However, as things continued, it was likely that it was going to get even more confused.  Or they would need to raise up all of the families to Omi and Muraji status, but as that happened, the meaning of the kabane themselves became less and less clear.  After all, if everyone is an “Omi” and “Muraji” than, really, nobody is. In 681, we are told that they began to put together a law code, and later a law code of 92 articles is said to have been established.  However, it seems it was still being updated, and wasn't until 689, after Ohoama's death, that all 22 volumes would be distributed to the various governors.  It became known as the Kiyomihara Codes.  In 684, Ohoama's reforms attacked the problem of the Kabane.  The record complains that the various titles had become confused.  That there were people out there taking kabane they were not entitled to, and just a general confusion because it no longer aligned quite so well with the evolving cultural norms of the new Yamato state.  Early attempts to deal with this appear to have been, in the years since they began codifying it all in 681, to raise up families and individuals to the rank of “Muraji”.  There are several records where lists of families are all given “Muraji”.  In the case of individuals being granted Muraji, it is unclear if that was going just to them or to their entire family, though there are some examples where it seems an individual was granted the title and then their uji was separately awarded the same. This seems like an initial attempt to straighten things out.  With the new bureaucratic system and the court ranks, no doubt there were people of worth from uji with less prestigious kabane who now outranked individuals from uji that were, at least on paper, more prestigious.  This can't really have solved the problem.  If anything, it just watered down the meaning of “muraji” even further, since now everyone and their brother seemed to have been granted that title. Ohoama's solution was to pare down the system to only eight kabane, total.  Some of these were existing kabane, and others were entirely new. At the bottom of this new system was the title of Inaki, which had been about the lowest territorial kabane of the existing system.  I suspect that this included all of those families that were still below the rank of Muraji, who had not been raised up in the preceding years.  However, from there it immediately jumped up to the Muraji and Omi, in that order.  And so the kabane that were previously at the top of the system were now towards the bottom.  That way, they could “promote” families into greater kabane, without needing to “demote” a bunch of existing families at the same time. Above the Omi were mostly new kabane, except for one.  The first was “Michinoshi”, a Master of the Way.  It is unclear what this was intended for, as we aren't told who was promoted to this kabane.  Based on the name, it is thought that this may have been for uji that had demonstrated a mastery of learning or perhaps some other pursuit, such as medicine, science, crafts, etc. Above the Michinoshi title was the kabane of Imiki, the fourth of eight.  This may mean something like “One who arrived”.  Some suggest that it may have originally been “imaki”.  Richard Miller, in his work “Ancient Japanese Nobility” suggests that this was effectively the equivalent of the old title of “Atahe”.  That said, most of those who received this kabane had previously been promoted to the old title of “Muraji”, though before that they were mostly Atahe, or else Obito, Kishi, or Miyatsuko. There is a thought that Imiki had something to do with “coming” and was meant for uji descended from immigrant families.  Miller notes that this is not immediately born out in the data from the Nihon Shoki, where we see about a 50:50 split between immigrant and native uji.  However, in the following chronicle, the Shoku Nihongi, we see about 100 of 150 of uji with the Imiki kabane  that were of immigrant origins, so 2/3rds.  That still isn't entirely conclusive, but does add some weight to the idea. Continuing to the 3rd kabane from the top we are at “Sukune”.  This was previously used as a kabane, but from what I can tell it was given to an individual and was not passed down to the entire uji.  Now it was something different.  Miller suggests that this kabane was for those uji who claimed descent from one of the kami, but not necessarily from the royal lineage. In contrast, Asomi, later read as “Ason”, the 2nd of the 8 kabane, literally reads as “court minister”.  It appears to be for those who claimed some connection to the royal family.  It is notable that Ohoama awarded this to some 52 families during his reign.  Compare that with making 11 Imiki and 13 Mabito, the next and highest ranking kabane.  Asomi would be the most common kabane among those at the top of the court bureaucracy.  Of all of them, this one seems to linger, perhaps because it is the kabane that was given to the Fujiwara family, who then carried that with them into later centuries. Finally, there is Mabito.  Mabito means something like “True Person” or perhaps “Upright Person”, and it seems to have gone exclusively to families with the old kabane of “kimi”.  An examination of the thirteen uji in this group indicates that they were those with close royal ties, who claimed a descent closely related to that of the royal family.  So those were the new kabane.  Although they were declared in 684 and handed out through the following year, we do see some individuals referenced with these kabane earlier in the narrative.  This is likely just due to the fact that it is how they were eventually known, and so they are given an anachronistic kabane, which was probably much easier for the compilers than trying to make sure that all of the names were exactly correct for each record. With the kabane thus dealt with, Ohoama then went on to make some major changes to the court rank system as well.  In many ways I would say that his ranks were quite novel—previous changes to the cap-rank system had largely been additions or slight modifications but had left many of the names intact with each change.  As such, the rank system decreed in 664 was really just an update to the previous cap-rank system of 649 and earlier.  And so even through 664 you still had things like “Greater brocade” as someone's rank.  Towards the end of his reign, though, along with other reforms to the government, Determining what exactly the rank system was at any given point can be a little confusing.  Depending on the record being used, names are sometimes referenced anachronistically: That is they are given with the ultimate title, kabane, or rank by which they were known. This could sometimes be after multiple phases of reform, and so the honors mentioned may not necessarily reflect that individual's ranks and position at the date of the entry.  Also the various rank systems are close enough, sharing many of the various rank names, such that it isn't immediately obvious if something different is being used. This is true of both kabane and court ranks.  Furthermore, as many individuals may only be mentioned once or twice, we may not always have a lot of data on how things may have changed.    The new system enacted in 685 was different in several ways that make it quite distinct.  In fact, we see in the record of this reign earlier mentions of individuals where their rank is given in terms of the new system even in records predating 685.  So what did that look like? The rank system of 685 still used various signifiers, which broke things up into categories, but these were broken up into 2-4 numerical grades:  Ichi-I, Ni-I, San-I, Shi-I, or first rank, second rank, third rank, and fourth rank.  This gets us closer to what was eventually an almost purely numerical system.  Each grade was then divided further into “Larger”: “Dai”; or “Broader”: “Kou” This is also where we see Princely ranks enumerated for the first time.  As we noted, previously, princely rank was something that we started to see at the beginning of this reign in the Nihon Shoki, with Prince of the third rank, etc. In 685, however, we get an actual proclamation. The Princely ranks are broken into two large categories—the bright, or Myou, ranks and the Pure, or Jou ranks.  There were two grades of Myou—Ichi-I and Ni-I, and four grades of Jou—Ichi-I, Ni-I, San-I, and Shi-I.  Each grade was further divided twice into large, dai, or broad, kou.  So you had Myou-dai-ichi-I, Myou-kou-ichi-I, Myou-dai-ni-I, Myou-kou, ni-i… et cetera.  That translates to something like Large First Bright rank, Broad First Bright rank, Large Second Bright rank, and Broad Second Bright rank.  This would continue with “Jou” replacing “Myou”, and provided a total of 12 princely ranks. As for how they were divvied out, we only see the granting of “Jou” ranks.  In fact, Kusakabe, the Crown Prince himself is given Broader Pure First Rank (Jou-kou-ichi-i).  His brother, Prince Ohotsu, was given Larger Pure Second Rank, their brother Takechi, who had helped lead the forces in the Jinshin war, was given Broader Pure Second Rank, one lower than his younger brother.  Both Kawashima and Osakabe were given Larger Pure Third Rank.  So if the highest “Pure” rank was going to the Crown Prince, then who were the Myou ranks going to?  Unfortunately, thou the system would last until the development of the Taihou code, in 703, we don't have any clear examples of the Myou ranks being handed out, so that may be a puzzle we don't unravel. Beyond the ranks for the various princes, there was another, similar set of ranks for the common court nobles.  This system had 6 categories, broken up, like the Princely ranks, into four grades, each further divided into Larger and Broader, as before.  In this case the categories were: Shou – Upright Jiki – Straight Gon – Diligent Mu – Earnest Tsui – Pursue Shin – Advancement This created 48 total rank divisions, which gave an unprecedented granularity for the court.  As for granting rank, we have a couple of examples of that, beyond just the posthumous grants.  In 686, Ohoama conferred Gon-I, the Dilligent rank, on six ministers who attended to him, personally.  There was also a request that provincial governors should select nine people of achievement who could likely be given the same. There is one strange account:  in 685, Awata no Asomi no Mabito—Mabito, in this case, being his given name—requested permission to transfer his rank to his father, but this was refused. And I think this gets to the heart of the cultural change that was underway, and which Ohoama and the court was actively encouraging.  Although the kabane titles were a collective rank, court rank, and the accompanying stipend, was for the individual.  This wasn't something that could accrue to the head of a family.  That would have been an important point at a time when the traditions of the uji system were still quite strong. So there we have it.  Hopefully there was something new for you to take away as we come to better understand Ohoama and his court. We still have plenty more to discuss—probably enough for a few more episodes as we cover some of the natural events and disasters, the ties between the court and religion, as well as what was going on with peninsular affairs, not to mention the myriad other little random tidbits.  We'll get to all of that as we can. Next episode we'll take a look at the material culture of the court.  Specifically we'll take a look at what we know about their dress and clothing, much of which was influenced by that sumptuary laws that were, themselves, tied in closely with this new rank system. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Hosťom v relácii Zo zákulisia politiky bol známy slovenský advokát, ktorý zastupoval viaceré medializované prípady, vrátane podnikateľa Mariana Kočnera. V roku 2022 ho NAKA obvinila v kauze „Kaifáš“ zo založenia a podpory zločineckej skupiny, údajne pre pomoc pri diskreditácii prokurátora Vasiľa Špirka. Prípad sa viackrát vracal medzi políciou a súdmi pre procesné pochybenia. V septembri 2025 bol právoplatne zbavený všetkých obvinení po rozhodnutí Generálnej prokuratúry. Popri advokátskej činnosti pôsobí aj ako poradca premiéra Roberta Fica. S Marekom Parom sme hovorili o jeho stíhaní, obhajobe Mariana Kočnera, ale aj o tom, v čom presne radí premiérovi Slovenskej republiky.

Jay Berg joined Bitcoin in 2010 and became the first person to tweet about BTCUSD when the price hit a new high of $12. In this episode, he talks about why most Bitcoiners are wrong in their recent filter debate and how SidePit aims to fix trading. Time stamps: 00:01:57 - Hot take: Maxis wrong, shitcoining new Bitcoining 00:03:00 - Bitcoin kernel: Litecoin, Ethereum, Zcash, Lightning, Liquid 00:03:23 - Bitcoin failed as P2P cash 00:04:09 - Filters vs. OP_RETURN debate 00:05:18 - Luke Dash Jr. fork prediction 00:05:45 - Original sin: No OP_CTV (BIP 119) 00:06:47 - 2017 civil war: Gavin Andresen, Mike Hearn 00:07:45 - Craig Wright conspiracy 00:08:42 - Wright intro: Bitcoin Belle, Gavin signing (2015) 00:09:32 - Debate with Nick Szabo 00:10:02 - Szabo denies Satoshi; Hal Finney, John Nash possibles 00:11:05 - Civil war apology 00:12:08 - Shitcoiner as new maxi 00:12:42 - Code over 21M meme 00:13:58 - Jay's background: Bloomberg, EURUSD 00:14:49 - 1998 digital cash, double spend 00:15:39 - Fortress HFT 00:17:03 - Bitcoin discovery (2009) 00:18:36 - BTCUSD tweets: Newberg Consulting 00:20:00 - 2010-2014 decentralized era 00:21:10 - Roger Ver adoption (2011) 00:21:30 - BitMEX on 2010 data debates 00:22:01 - OP_RETURN war: Counterparty, Omni 00:22:34 - Ethereum rise 00:23:13 - CP FUD on chain 00:23:36 - Cognitive dissonance 00:24:30 - Ethereum wars: Jimmy Song, Samson Mow 00:25:01 - Ethereum scales Bitcoin tweet 00:27:11 - Plebs control post-2017 00:28:05 - 21M changeable 00:29:06 - BIP 42: Pieter Wuille 00:30:23 - Security budget FUD 00:30:57 - Ethereum VM anti-pattern 00:32:25 - Rock-paper-scissors example 00:35:03 - MEV in DeFi 00:38:12 - Ethereum scales post-war 00:38:45 - Roger Ver buy Core attempt 00:38:52 - Luke Jr. block increase 00:39:38 - OP_CTV from no two-way peg 00:40:05 - Blocked by Adam Back 00:41:36 - Full RBF issue 00:42:10 - Sponsor: Layer2 Labs, Paul Sztorc, Drivechain (BIP 300) 00:42:35 - Sidechains: Thunder, Zside, BitAsset, EthSide 00:43:45 - Litecoin BIP 300 test 00:44:26 - Lightning not Bitcoin 00:45:44 - Sponsor: Citrea ZK rollup 00:46:02 - DeFi, Tornado Cash on Bitcoin 00:47:29 - OP_RETURN bytes need 00:50:02 - Lightning custodians 00:50:58 - Lightning as Bitcoin how? 03:26:01 - Zcash soft fork (2013) 03:26:42 - Trump Ethereum: World Liberty 03:27:50 - BIP 300, OP_CTV excitement 03:28:38 - Stubborn fork potential 03:28:49 - Stamp JPEG issue 03:29:11 - Luke Jr. denial 03:30:28 - No real JPEGs 03:32:24 - Gloria Zhao attack 03:32:54 - Matthew Kratter channel 03:33:21 - Mechanic handler theory 03:34:38 - Luke lost Bitcoin 03:35:48 - Richard Heart Hex debate 03:37:20 - Maxi used ETH 03:37:51 - Gresham's law 03:38:56 - Jason Lowery defense 03:40:31 - Naka, David Bailey 03:41:34 - Maxi cycle 03:42:23 - Cult elements 03:42:52 - Hypocrisy: Dogecoin, Litecoin 03:43:30 - Freedom Index: Monero, Zcash, Pirate, Zano, Nym 03:45:43 - Nym mixnet 03:46:44 - Zano tokens, FUSD 03:48:23 - Roger Ver Zano 03:49:40 - Saberhagen Cryptonote 03:51:55 - Alpha vs beta 03:55:10 - Ethereum leveraged BTC 03:56:21 - Opportunity 03:58:21 - Dorsey funding 03:58:51 - Renaissance or burn 03:59:30 - Number up vs fundamentals 04:00:28 - Success/failure 04:02:17 - Laszlo Pizza fear 04:03:00 - Swaps 04:03:24 - Lightning failure 04:04:30 - Platforms differences 04:05:56 - Shitcoiners new 04:07:20 - No blockchain solve? 04:08:49 - 2010-14 decentralized 04:09:40 - Mt. Gox exchanges 04:10:59 - SidePit swaps 04:11:18 - Follow: sidpit.com, JAYBNY 04:11:51 - Launch Q404:15:01 - Next: Sean Bowe Tachyon 04:15:13 - Sponsors: SideShift, Citrea, LayerTwo Labs, Bitcoin dot com News, Noones

We're back with another roundtable discussing all the spicy topics in and around the bitcoin space over the last month, ✔️ Uptober Hopium and Copium: ► https://x.com/Dennis_Porter_/status/1968659509573832946?t=R9LvHihWq7TRnpr71oc7kw&s=09► https://x.com/TheRealPlanC/status/1971240454822703470?t=4K5mRDDLUI5odnBRgt788A&s=09► https://x.com/JoeConsorti/status/1971285844276412441?t=V5wyqdDzJE3U69A6qj7X_g&s=09► https://x.com/apsk32/status/1971288693681140049?t=VAmfep6vP7wtw4UoRY2Bhw&s=09► https://x.com/EricBalchunas/status/1971192712222154770?t=5BWSl946T9FPgXOhur62eQ&s=09► https://x.com/BoldBitcoin/status/1971730277773840797?t=iTKHdPsJ0aufW-GbwPsMCA&s=09► https://x.com/FrankAFetter/status/1971560951204786288?t=yrrSgv9OwjnhYoHIMpKQBQ&s=09► https://x.com/julian_liniger/status/1972592551812358245?t=Aj3gsOLSbNcztY4iWnf1Aw&s=09✔️ Sovereign citizen playing out► https://x.com/BTCjunkies/status/1969085315525595227?t=ie1C-SdNRSCZGPTtI4MNTg&s=19✔️ Paper Bitcoin Summer (MSTR,SMLR,ASST,NAKA► https://x.com/BitcoinNewsCom/status/1969497139450405354?t=nBtqPnuVCv53CpzrIDrvfQ&s=19► https://finance.yahoo.com/news/michael-saylor-hints-selling-bitcoin-094623971.html► https://www.stocktitan.net/news/ASST/strive-inc-nasdaq-asst-and-semler-scientific-inc-nasdaq-smlr-w2wliypfo3rb.html► https://x.com/Pledditor/status/1971456677431083229?t=i9Lx17i7V2Sf5Gxb3KIspg&s=09► https://x.com/pledditor/status/1972056016494928269?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ✔️ Bitcoin Meme Fail► https://x.com/simpleminingio/status/1969546347285266790?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ✔️ Bitcoin Philosophy► https://x.com/bikesandbitcoin/status/1971235790534652024?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ✔️ The State and You► https://x.com/JoeCarlasare/status/1971210689705542063?t=3zQAjJ9Ozg5Ytzyu7iXoXg&s=09✔️ Core vs Knots Drama ► https://x.com/cdcm99/status/1972480850559414692► https://x.com/bitcoinnewscom/status/1973168217763074555?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ► https://x.com/laurentmt/status/1973416866212180089?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ► https://x.com/callebtc/status/1973430449038086600?t=WIdCrJlvk3UmJY0idePQyQ&s=09► https://x.com/davidshares/status/1974161386101182629?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ► https://x.com/sesi_the_man/status/1974207614998151275?s=52► https://x.com/portlandhodl/status/1973892602216001561?s=52&t=CKH2brGypO5fEYTgQ-EFhQ✔️ WTF is this?► https://x.com/benthecarman/status/1973786552913543172?s=52✔️ TABCONF TICKETS HERE: https://7.tabconf.com/✔️ Check out Our Bitcoin Only Sponsors!► https://archemp.co/Discover the pinnacle of precision engineering. Our very first product, the bitcoin logo wall clock, is meticulously machined in Maine from a solid block of aerospace-grade aluminum, ensuring unparalleled durability and performance. We don't compromise on quality – no castings, just solid, high-grade material. Our state-of-the-art CNC machining center achieves tolerances of 1/1000th of an inch, guaranteeing a perfect fit and finish every time. Invest in a product built to last, with the exacting standards you deserve.► Join Our telegram: https://t.me/theplebunderground#Bitcoin #crypto #cryptocurrency #dailybitcoinnews #memecoins The information provided by Pleb Underground ("we," "us," or "our") on Youtube.com (the "Site") our show is for general informational purposes only. All information on the show is provided in good faith, however we make no representation or warranty of any kind, express or implied, regarding the accuracy, adequacy, validity, reliability, availability, or completeness of any information on the Site. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE SHALL WE HAVE ANY LIABILITY TO YOU FOR ANY LOSS OR DAMAGE OF ANY KIND INCURRED AS A RESULT OF THE USE OF THE SHOW OR RELIANCE ON ANY INFORMATION PROVIDED ON THE SHOW. YOUR USE OF THE SHOW AND YOUR RELIANCE ON ANY INFORMATION ON THE SHOW IS SOLELY AT YOUR OWN RISK.

It is the first year of a new reign, so come and let's take a look at how it all begins. For more, check out our blog page at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-135 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 135: Year One The officials of the Ministry of Kami Affairs bustled to and fro as they prepared the ritual grounds and the temporary buildings.  They were carefully erecting the structures, which would only be used for a single festival, and then torn down, but this would be an important festival.  It was the harvest festival, the Niiname-sai, the festival of the first-fruits.  Rice, from the regions of Tamba and Harima, specifically chosen through divination, would be offered to his majesty along with the kami who had blessed the land.  But this time, there was more. After all, this was the first harvest festival of a new reign, and they had orders to make it special.  The ascension ceremony had been held earlier in the year, but in some ways that was just a prelude.  There had been various rituals and ceremonies throughout the year emphasizing that this year was special—even foreign lands were sending envoys to congratulate him on the event.  But this wasn't for them.  This was the sovereign taking part, for the first time, in one of the most important ceremonies of the year.  After all, the feast of first-fruits was the culmination of all that the kami had done, and it emphasized the sovereign's role as both a descendant of heaven and as the preeminent intercessor with the divine spirits of the land. And so they knew, that everything had to be bigger, with even more pomp and circumstance than normal.  This wouldn't just be about the new rice.  This would be a grand ceremony, one that only happened once in a generation, and yet which would echo through the centuries.  As the annual harvest festival, it was an ancient tradition.  But as something new—as the Daijosai—it was something else all together. And it would have to be perfect!   Last episode we talked about the Kiyomihara palace and a little bit about what it was like in the court of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  After defeating the Afumi court supporting his nephew, Ohotomo, in 672, Ohoama had taken control of the government.  He moved back to Asuka, and into the refurbished Okamoto palace, building a southern exclave known to us today as the Ebinoko enclosure, which held one large building, which may have been a residence or a ceremonial structure—possibly the first “Daigokuden” or ceremonial hall. Ohoama's court built on the ideas that his brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, had put forth since the Taika era.  This was a continuation of the form of government known as the Ritsuryo system, or Ritsuryo-sei, literally a government of laws and punishments, and Ohoama had taken the reins.  He seems to have taken a much more direct approach to governance compared to some of his predecessors. For instance, the role of the ministerial families was reduced, with Ohoama or various princes—actual or invented relatives of the throne—taking a much more prominent role.  He also expanded access to the central government to those outside of the the Home Provinces.  After all, it was the traditional ministerial families—the Soga, the Nakatomi, and even the Kose—who had been part of the Afumi government that he had just defeated.  Meanwhile, much of his military support had come from the Eastern provinces, though with prominent indications of support from Kibi and Tsukushi as well. This episode we are going to get back to the events documented in the Chronicles, looking just at the first year of Ohoama's reign.  Well, technically it was the second year, with 672 being the first, but this is the first year in which he formally sat on the throne.  There's plenty going on in this year to fill a whole episode: it was the year of Ohoama's formal ascension, and there were numerous festivals, ceremonies, and other activities that seem to be directly related to a fresh, new start.  We will also look at the custom of handing out posthumous ranks, particularly to those who supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, and how that relates to the various ranks and titles used in Ohoama's court.  We have envoys from three different countries—Tamna, Silla, and Goguryeo—and their interactions with the Dazaifu in Tsukushi.  Finally, we have the first Daijosai, one of the most important ceremonies in any reign. And so, let's get into it.   The year 673 started with a banquet for various princes and ministers, and on the 27th day of the 2nd month, Ohoama formally assumed the throne at what would come to be known as Kiyomihara Palace.  Uno, his consort, who had traveled with him through the mountains from Yoshino to Ise, was made his queen, and their son, Royal Prince Kusakabe, was named Crown Prince.  Two days later they held a ceremony to convey cap-ranks on those deemed worthy. We are then told that on the 17th day of the following month, word came from the governor of Bingo, the far western side of ancient Kibi, today the eastern part of modern Hiroshima.  They had caught a white pheasant in Kameshi and sent it as tribute.  White or albino animals were seen as particularly auspicious signs, and no doubt it was taken as an omen of good fortune for the reign.  In response, the forced labor from Bingo, which households were required to supply to the State, was remitted.  There was also a general amnesty granted throughout the land. That same month we are also told that scribes were brought in to Kawaradera to copy the Issaiko—aka the Tripitaka, or the entirety of the Buddhist canon.  That would include hundreds of scrolls.  This clearly seems to be an act of Buddhist merit-making:  by copying out the scrolls you make merit, which translates to good karma.  That would be another auspicious start to the reign, and we see frequently that rulers would fund sutra copying—or sutra recitations—as well as temples, statues, bells and all other such things to earn Buddhist merit.  As the ruler, this merit didn't just accrue to you, but to the entire state, presumably bringing good fortune and helping to avert disaster. However, it wasn't just the Law of the Buddha that Ohoama was appealing to.  In the following entry, on the14th day of the 4th month, we are told that Princess Ohoki was preparing herself at the saigu, or abstinence palace, in Hatsuse—known as Hase, today, east of modern Sakurai, along the Yonabari river, on the road to Uda.  Ohoki was the sister of Prince Ohotsu.  Her mother was Ohota, the Queen's elder sister, making her a grandchild of Naka no Ohoye as well as the daughter of Ohoama.  Princess Ohoki's time at the abstinence palace was so that she could purify herself.  This was all to get her ready to head to Ise, to approach none other than the sun goddess, Amaterasu Ohokami. With all of these events, we see the full panoply of ritual and ceremony on display.  The formal, legal ceremonies of ascension and granting of rank.  The declaration of auspicious omens for the reign.   There is the making of Buddhist merit, but also the worship of the kami of the archipelago.  This is not an either-or situation.  We are seeing in the first half of this first year the fusion of all of these different elements into something that may not even be all that sensational to those of us, today.  After all, anyone who goes to Japan is likely well-accustomed to the way that both Buddhist and Shinto institutions can both play a large part in people's lives.  While some people may be more drawn to one than the other, for most they are complimentary. That isn't how it had to be.  For a time, it was possible that Buddhism would displace local kami worship altogether.  This was the core of the backlash that we saw from groups like the Nakatomi, whose role in kami-focused ceremonies was threatened by the new religion.  Indeed, for a while now it seems like mention of the kami has taken a backseat to Buddhist temples and ceremonies in the Chronicles.  Likewise, as a foreign religion, Buddhism could have also fallen out of favor.  It was not fore-ordained that it would come to have a permanent place on the archipelago.  This tension between local kami worship—later called Shinto, the Way of the Kami—and Buddhist teachings would vary throughout Japanese history, with one sometimes seen as more prestigious or more natural than the other, but neither one would fully eclipse the other. One could say that was in part due to the role that Amaterasu and kami worship played in the court ceremonies.  However, even there indigenous practices were not necessarily safe.  The court could have just as easily imported Confucian rituals, and replaced the spiritual connection between the sovereign and the kami with the continental style Mandate of Heaven. And thus, the choices that were being made at this time would have huge implications for the Japanese state for centuries to come. I should note that it is unlikely that this spontaneously arose amongst the upper class and the leadership.  I doubt this was just Ohoama's strategy to give himself multiple levers of power—though I'm not saying he wasn't thinking about that either.  But the only way that these levers existed was through their continued life in the culture and the people of the time.  If the people didn't believe in Buddhist merit, or that the kami influenced their lives, then neither would have given them much sway.  It was the fact that these were a part of the cultural imaginary of the state, and how people imagined themselves and their surroundings, that they were effective tools for Ohoama and his government. And so it seems that Ohoama's first year is off to a smashing success.  By the fifth month he is already issuing edicts—specifically on the structure of the state, which we discussed some last episode. But the high could not be maintained indefinitely.  And on the 29th day of the 5th month we have what we might consider our first negative entry, when Sakamoto no Takara no Omi passed away. You may remember Sakamoto, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.  He was the commander in the Nara Basin, under general Wofukei, who took 300 troops to Tatsuta.  From there he advanced to the Hiraishi plain and up to the top of Mt. Takayasu, to confront the Afumi forces that had taken the castle.  They fled, and Takara and his men overnighted at the castle.  The next day they tried to intercept Afumi troops advancing from the Kawachi plain, but they were forced to fall back to a defensive position.   We covered that in Episode 131 with the rest of the campaign in the Nara Basin. Takara's death is the first of many entries—I count roughly 21 through this and the following reign—which, for the most part, are all similarly worded.  Sakamoto no Takara no Omi, of Upper Daikin rank, died.  He was posthumously granted the rank of Shoushi for service in the Year of Mizu-no-e Saru, aka Jinshin.  We are told the individual, their rank at the time of their death, and then a note about a posthumous grant of rank.  Upper Daikin was already about the 7th rank from the top in the system of 664, and Shoushi would be the 6th rank, and one of the “ministerial” ranks.  This is out of 26, total.  “Kin” itself was the fourth of about 7 categories, and the last category that was split into six sub-ranks, with greater and lesser (Daikin and Shokin), each of which was further divided into Upper, Middle, and Lower ranks.  There's a lot to go into, in fact a little too much for this episode, so for more on the ranks in use at the start of the reign, check out our blogpost for this episode.        The giving of posthumous rank is mostly just an honorific.  After all, the individual is now deceased, so it isn't as if they would be drawing more of a stipend, though their new ranks may have influenced their funerary rites and similar things. As I said, on a quick scan of the text, I counted  21 of these entries, though there may be a few more with slightly different phrasing or circumstances.  Some of them were quite notable in the record, while others may have only had a mention here or there.  That they are mentioned, though, likely speaks to the importance of that connection to such a momentous year.  The Nihon Shoki is thought to have been started around the time of Ohoama or his successor, along with the Kojiki, and so it would have been important to people of the time to remind everyone that their ancestors had been the ones who helped with that momentous event.  It really isn't that much different from those who proudly trace their lineage back to heroes of, say, the American Revolution, though it likely held even more sway being closer to the actual events. After the death of Sakamoto no Takara, we get another death announcement.  This is of someone that Aston translates as “Satek Syomyeong” of Baekje, of Lower Daikin rank.  We aren't given much else about him, but we are told that Ohoama was shocked.  He granted Syomyeong the posthumous rank of “Outer Shoushi”, per Aston's translation.  He also posthumously named him as Prime Minister, or Desapyong, of Baekje. There are a few clues about who this might be, but very little to go on.  He is mentioned in 671, during the reign of Naka no Oe, when he received the rank of Upper Daikin along with Minister—or Sapyong—Yo Jasin.  It is also said in the interlinear text that he was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan no Taifu.  The Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan or perhaps the Nori no Tsukasa—is thought to have been the progenitor of the later Shikibu, the Ministry of Ceremony.  One of the major roles it played was in the selection of candidates for rank, position, and promotion. We are also told that in the year 660, in the reign of Takara Hime, one of the nobles captured in the Tang invasion of Baekje was “Desapyong Satek”, so perhaps this Syomyeong was a descendant or relative of the previous prime minister, who fled to Yamato with other refugees.  We also have another record from 671 of a Satek Sondeung and his companions accompanying the Tang envoy Guo Yacun.  So it would seem that the Sathek family was certainly notable The name “Satek” shows up once more, though Aston then translates it as “Sataku”, like a monk or scholar's name.  “Sataku” would be the Japanese on'yomi pronunciation of the same characters, so perhaps another relative. What we can take away from all of this is that the Baekje refugee community is still a thing in Yamato.  This Satek Seomyeong has court rank—Upper Daikin rank, just like Sakamoto, in the previous entry.  And we know that he had an official position at court—not just in the Baekje court in exile.  We'll see more on this as the community is further integrated into the rest of Society, such that there would no longer be a Baekje community, but families would continue to trace their lineages back to Baekje families, often with pride. The other odd thing here is the character “outer” or “outside” before “Shoushi”.  Aston translates it as part of the rank, and we see it show up a total of four times in some variation of “Outer Lesser X rank”.  Mostly it is as here, Outer Lesser Purple.  Later we would see a distinction of “outer” and “inner” ranks, which this may be a version of.  Depending on one's family lineage would denote whether one received an “outer” or “inner” rank, and so it may be that since Satek Syomyeong was from the Baekje community, it was more appropriate for him to have an “outside” rank. “Outer” rank would also be given to Murakuni no Muraji no Woyori, the general who had led the campaign to Afumi, taking the Seta bridge.  He was also posthumously given the rank of “Outer Shoushi” upon his death in 676.  Murakuni no Woyori is the only person of that surname mentioned around this time, so perhaps he wasn't from one of the “core” families of the Yamato court, despite the service he had rendered.  We also have at least one other noble of Baekje who is likewise granted an ”outer” rank. On the other side there are those like Ohomiwa no Makamuta no Kobito no Kimi, who was posthumously granted the rank of “Inner” Shoushi.  Here I would note that Ohomiwa certainly seems to suggest an origin in the Nara Basin, in the heartland of Yamato. The terms “Inner” and “Outer” are only used on occasion, however, and not consistently in all cases.  This could just be because of the records that the scribes were working off of at the time.  It is hard to say, exactly. All of these entries about posthumous ranks being granted tend to refer to cap ranks, those applying to members of various Uji, the clans that had been created to help organize the pre-Ritsuryo state. The Uji and their members played important roles in the court and the nation, both as ministers and lower functionaries.  But I also want to mention another important component of Ohoama's court, the members of the princely class, many of whom also actively contributed to the functioning of the state.  Among this class are those that Aston refers to as “Princes of the Blood”, or “Shinnou”.  These include the royal princes, sons of Ohoama who were in line for the throne, but also any of his brothers and sisters.  Then there were the “miko”, like Prince Kurikuma, who had been the Viceroy in Tsukushi, denying troops to the Afumi court.  Those princes claimed some lineal descent from a sovereign, but they were not directly related to the reigning sovereign.  In fact, it isn't clear, today, if they were even indirectly related to the reigning sovereign, other than through the fact that the elites of the archipelago had likely been forming marriage alliances with one another for centuries, so who knows.  And maybe they made their claims back to a heavenly descendant, like Nigi Hayahi.  Either way, they were the ones with claims—legitimate or otherwise—to royal blood.  Notably, the Princes did not belong to any of the Uji, , and they didn't have kabane, either—no “Omi”, “Muraji”, “Atahe”, et cetera. They did, at least from this reign forward, have rank.  But it was separate and different from the rank of the Uji members.  Members of the various Uji were referred to with cap rank, but the Princely ranks were just numbered—in the Nihon Shoki we see mention of princes of the 2nd through 5th ranks—though presumably there was also a “first” rank.  It is not entirely clear when this princely rank system was put into place, but it was probably as they were moving all of the land, and thus the taxes, to the state.  Therefore the court would have needed to know what kind of stipend each prince was to receive—a stipend based on their rank.  These ranks, as with later numbered ranks, appear to have been given in ascending order, like medals in a tournament:  first rank, second rank, third rank, etc. with fifth rank being the lowest of the Princely ranks. Many of these Princes also held formal positions in the government.  We saw this in Naka no Oe's reign with Prince Kurikuma taking the Viceroy-ship of Tsukushi, but during Ohoama's reign we see it even more. Beneath the Princes were the various Ministers and Public Functionaries—the Officers of the court, from the lowest page to the highest minister.  They were members of the elite noble families, for the most part, or else they claimed descent from the elite families of the continent.  Either way they were part of what we would no doubt call the Nobility.  Their cap-rank system, mentioned earlier, was separate from that used by the Princes. And, then at the bottom, supporting this structure, were the common people.  Like the princes, they did not necessarily have a surname, and they didn't really figure into the formal rank system.  They certainly weren't considered members of the titled class, and often don't even show up in the record.  And yet we should not forget that they were no doubt the most numerous and diverse group for the majority of Japanese history.  Our sources, however, have a much more narrow focus. There is one more class of people to mention here, and that is the evolving priestly class.  Those who took Buddhist orders and became Buddhist monks were technically placed outside of the social system, though that did not entirely negate their connections to the outside world.  We see, for example, how Ohoama, even in taking orders, still had servants and others to wait on him.  However, they were at least theoretically outside of the social hierarchy, and could achieve standing within the Buddhist community through their studies of Buddhist scripture.  They had their own hierarchy, which was tied in to the State through particular Buddhist officers appointed by the government, but otherwise the various temples seem to have been largely in charge of their own affairs. But anyway, let's get back to the Chronicles. Following closely on the heels of Satek Syomyeong's passing, two days later, we have another entry, this one much more neutral.  We are told that Tamna, aka the kingdom on Jeju island off the southern tip of the Korean peninsula, sent Princes Kumaye, Tora, Uma, and others with tribute. So now we are getting back into the diplomatic swing of things.  There had been one previous embassy—that of Gim Apsil of Silla, who had arrived just towards the end of the Jinshin War, but they were merely entertained in Tsukushi and sent back, probably because Ohoama's court were still cleaning house. Tamna, Silla, and Goguryeo—usually accompanied by Silla escorts—would be the main visitors to Yamato for a time.  At this point, Silla was busy trying to get the Tang forces to leave the peninsula.  This was partly assisted by the various uprisings in the captured territories of Goguryeo and Baekje—primarily up in Goguryeo.  There were various attempts to restore the kingdom.  It isn't clear, but I suspect that the Goguryeo envoys we do eventually see were operating largely as a vassal state under Silla. Tamna, on the other hand, seems to have been outside of the conflict, from what we see in the records, and it likely was out of the way of the majority of any fighting.  They also seem to have had a different relationship with Yamato, based on some of the interactions. It is very curious to me that the names of the people from Tamna seem like they could come from Yamato.  Perhaps that is related in some way to theories that Tamna was one of the last hold-outs of continental proto-Japonic language prior to the ancestor of modern Korean gaining ascendancy.  Or it could just be an accident of how things got copied down in Sinitic characters and then translated back out. The Tamna mission arrived on the 8th day of the 6th intercalary month of 673.  A Silla embassy arrived 7 days later, but rather than tribute, their mission was twofold—two ambassadors to offer congratulations to Ohoama and two to offer condolences on the late sovereign—though whether that means Naka no Oe or Ohotomo is not exactly clear.  All of these arrived and would have been hosted, initially, in Tsukushi, probably at modern Fukuoka.  The Silla envoys were accompanied by Escorts, who were briefly entertained and offered presents by the Dazaifu, the Yamato government extension on Kyushu, and then sent home.  From then on, the envoys would be at the mercy of Yamato and their ships. About a month and a half later, on the 20th day of the 8th month, Goguryeo envoys also showed up with tribute, accompanied by Silla escorts.  Five days later, word arrived back from the court in Asuka.  The Silla envoys who had come to offer congratulations to the sovereign on his ascension were to be sent onwards.  Those who had just come with tribute, however, could leave it with the viceroy in Tsukushi.    They specifically made this point to the Tamna envoys, whom they then suggested should head back soon, as the weather was about to turn, and they wouldn't want to be stuck there when the monsoon season came. The Tamna cohort weren't just kicked out, however.  The court did grant them and their king cap-rank.  The envoys were given Upper Dai-otsu, which Yamato equated to the rank of a minister in Tamna. The Silla envoys—about 27 in total—made their way to Naniwa.  It took them a month, and they arrived in Naniwa on the 28th day of the 9th month.  Their arrival was met with entertainments—musical performances and presents that were given to the envoys.  This was all part of the standard diplomatic song and dance—quite literally, in this case. We aren't given details on everything.  Presumably the envoys offered their congratulations, which likely included some presents from Silla, as well as a congratulatory message.  We aren't given exact details, but a little more than a month later, on the first day of the 11th month, envoy Gim Seungwon took his leave. Meanwhile, the Goguryeo envoys, who, like Tamna, had arrived merely with tribute, were still in Tsukushi.  On the 21st day of the 11th month, just over two months after they arrived, we are told that they were entertained at the Ohogohori in Tsukushi and were given presents based on their rank. The Ohogohori, or “Big District”, appears to mirror a similar area in Naniwa that was likewise known for hosting diplomatic envoys. With the diplomatic niceties over, there was one more thing to do in this first year of the new reign: the thanksgiving ritual always held at the beginning of a new reign, the Daijosai, or oho-namematsuri.  This is a harvest ritual where the newly enthroned sovereign offers new rice to the kami and then eats some himself.  At least in the modern version, he gives thanks and prays to Amaterasu Ohomikami, as well as to the amatsu-kami and kunitsu-kami, the kami of heaven and earth. The Daijosai shares a lot in common with another important annual festival, the Niinamesai, or the Feast of First Fruits.  This is the traditional harvest festival, usually held in November.  The Daijosai follows much the same form as the Niinamesai, and as such, in years where there is a new sovereign, and thus the Daijosai is held, the Niinamesai is not, since it would be duplicative. Many of the rituals of the Daijosai are private affairs and not open to the public. There are various theories about what happens, but only those who are part of the ritual know for sure, and they are sworn to secrecy. The first instance of the Daijosai in the Chronicles is during the reign of Shiraga Takehiko Kunioshi Waka Yamato Neko, aka Seinei Tennou, in the 5th century, but we should take that with a huge grain of salt.  Remember, one of the purposes behind the chronicles was to explain how everything came to be, and saying “we just made it up” wasn't really going to fly. I've seen some sources suggest that the Daijosai can be attributed to the first reign of Ohoama's mother, Takara Hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou.  The term used in her reign, though is Niiname, which seems to refer to the annual Niinamesai, though she is the first in the Chronicles that seems to celebrate it in the first year of her reign, sharing with the Crown Prince and Ministers. It is likely that the ritual is much older in origin.  After all, giving the first fruits of the harvest to the kami to thank them for their assistance seems like the core of harvest festivals around the world.  We see it mentioned as the Niinamesai in much of the rest of the Nihon Shoki, even back to the Age of the Gods, when it played an important part in the stories of Amaterasu and Susanowo.  It is in Ohoama's reign, though, that it seems to first take on its character as a true ritual of the state.  We see that the Nakatomi and the Imbe were involved.  Together these two families oversaw much of the court ritual having to do with kami worship.  We also know that the officials of the Jingikan, the Ministry of Kami Affairs, were also present, as they were all given presents for attending on the sovereign during the festival.  We also see that the district governors of Harima and Tamba, which were both in the area of modern Hyougo Prefecture, as well as various laborers under them, were all recognized with presents as well.  We can assume that this was because they provided the rice and other offerings used in the festival.  In addition to the presents they received, the two governors were each given an extra grade of cap-rank. Another Daijosai would be carried out in the first year of Ohoama's successor, and from there on it seems to have become one of if not *the* major festival of a reign.  It marks, in many ways, the end of the first year of ceremonies for the first year of a reign.  And even in other years, the Niinamesai is often one of the pre-eminent festivals. The Daijosai may have been the climax of the year in many ways, but the year was not quite done yet.  We have two more entries, and both are related to Buddhism.  First, on the 17th day of the 12th month, just twelve days after the Daijosai, Prince Mino and Ki no Omi no Katamaro were appointed Commissioners for the erection of the Great Temple of Takechi—aka the Ohomiya no Ohodera, also known as the Daikandaiji. The Daikandaiji was a massive temple complex.  It is thought that it was originally a relocation of Kudara Ohodera, and we have remains at the foot of Kaguyama—Mt. Kagu, in the Asuka region of modern Kashihara city.  Many of the ruins, however, seem to date to a slightly later period, suggesting that the main temple buildings were rebuilt after Ohoama's reign.  Still, it is quite likely that he had people start the initial work. In setting up the temple, of course it needed a head priest.  And so Ohoama called upon a priest named Fukurin and made him an offer he couldn't refuse… literally.  Fukurin tried to object to being posted as the head priest.  He said that he was too old to be in charge of the temple.  Ohoama wasn't having any of it.  He had made up his mind, and Fukurin was in no position to refuse him. A quick note on the two commissioners here.  First off, I would note that Prince Mino here isn't mentioned as having Princely rank.  Instead, he is mentioned with the ministerial rank of Shoushi.  Ki no Katamaro, on the other hand, is Lower Shoukin, several grades below.  Once again, a bit of confusion in the ranks, as it were. The final entry for the year 673 occurred 10 days after the erection of the great temple, and it was a fairly straightforward entry:  The Buddhist Priest, Gijou, was made Shou-soudzu, or Junior Soudzu.  Junior Soudzu was one of the government appointed positions of priests charged with overseeing the activities of the priests and temples and holding them to account as necessary.  Originally there was the Soujou and the Soudzu, but they were later broken up into several different positions, likely due to the proliferation of Buddhism throughout the archipelago. There doesn't seem to be much on Gijou before this point, but we know that he would go on to live a pretty full life, passing away over thirty years later, in 706 CE. He would outlive Ohoama and his successor.  And with that, we come to the end of the first year.  I am not planning to go year by year through this entire reign—in fact, we have already touched on a lot of the various recurring entries.  But I do think that it is worth it to see how the Chronicles treat this first year for a reign that would have been considered pretty momentous to the people of the time. Next episode we'll continue going through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  There is a lot going on, which, as I've said, will influence the nation for centuries—even up until the modern day. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

S podzimem je v Česku další vlna covidu-19. Podle dat na webu ministerstva zdravotnictví týdně přibývají nižší tisíce nakažených. Jen za úterý to je 1065, což jsou nicméně pouze evidované případy, nejsou do toho započítáni lidé, kteří se testují sami a onemocnění nikde nenahlásí. Podle Státního zdravotního ústavu tvoří mezi vzorky od nemocných s infekcemi dýchacích cest skoro polovinu právě SARS-COV-2, který covid-19 způsobuje. Jak ve Výtahu Respektu vysvětluje Martin Uhlíř, ve většině případů jde o novou variantu Stratus: „Je to varianta Omikronu a šíří se rychleji než jeho předchozí mutace. Společně s variantou Nimbus se šíří v mnoha státech včetně Česka. Například ve Spojených státech byla silná letní vlna, která teprve začíná odeznívat. Stratus je směs genetického materiálu ze dvou jiných variant Omikronu, má několik dalších mutací na spike proteinu, který umožňuje vstup do buňky, přičemž toto všechno z něj dělá nakažlivější variantu, která snáze obchází imunitu lidí, kteří už covid-19 v minulosti měli nebo byli očkování proti jiným variantám." Očkuje se i proti těm novým? Komu a kdy se vakcína doporučuje? A jaké jsou příznaky nové varianty?

Is Kevin Durant a winner in basketball and a loser in bitcoin? Or did he just win both? Find out on today's Bitcoin Group!FEATURING:Dan Eve (https://x.com/cryptopoly)Thomas Hunt (https://twitter.com/MadBitcoins)THIS WEEK:  ———NAKA shares plunge 54% in a day, reinforcing investor exhaustion toward Bitcoin treasury companieshttps://cryptoslate.com/naka-shares-plunge-54-in-a-day-reinforcing-investor-exhaustion-toward-bitcoin-treasury-companies/Source: Cryptoslate Kevin Durant bought Bitcoin in 2016 but loss access to his crypto wallet for years. He's Finally back in.https://www.businessinsider.com/kevin-durant-bitcoin-crypto-wallet-coinbase-account-lost-access-kleiman-2025-9Source: Business InsiderA Golden Statue of Trump Wielding a Bitcoin Causes a Scandal in Washingtonhttps://www.cointribune.com/en/a-golden-statue-of-trump-wielding-a-bitcoin-causes-a-scandal-in-washington/Source: CointribuneLondon Stock Exchange launches blockchain platform for private fundshttps://cointelegraph.com/news/london-stock-exchange-group-blockchain-platformSource: Cointelegraph Streamer Gets Slapped by Gym Influencer Bradley Martyn, Pumping Solana Tokenhttps://decrypt.co/339298/streamer-slapped-gym-influencer-bradley-martyn-pumping-solana-token?amp=1Source: DecryptVoted for strategic bitcoin reserve, got fiat crypto oligarchy.https://twitter.com/callebtc/status/1966553676148826316?s=46Source: Twitter | @callebtc________________________________________________________________World Crypto Networkhttps://www.worldcryptonetwork.com/On This Day in World Crypto Network Historyhttps://www.worldcryptonetwork.com/onthisday/---------------------------------------------------------------------------Please Subscribe to our Youtube Channelhttps://m.youtube.com/channel/UCR9gdpWisRwnk_k23GsHf

Bitcoin mining stock prices surged this week, Bitdeer released its latest ASIC miner, the SEALMINER A3, and more bitcoin mining news on this week's Mining Pod news roundup. Click Here To Join the BitAxe Giveaway Welcome back to The Mining Pod! Today, Matt Williams, the head of financial services at Luxor, joins Will and Colin to dive into this week's bitcoin mining news, including a massive bitcoin mining stock rally, Nvidia's $5 billion investment into Intel, and Bitdeer's new SEALMINER A3 ASIC miner series. Plus, Matt teases a new energy market product coming soon from Luxor, and we examine NAKA's brutal stock crash after its PIPE equity unlock. **Notes:** • Bitcoin's difficulty jumped 4.9% and 4.6% back-to-back • Nvidia invested $5 billion stake in Intel chips • NAKA stock crashed from $25 to $1.40 this year • New A3 miner delivers 290 TH at 12.5 J/TH Timestamps: 00:00 Start 05:17 Stocks are ripping, why? 10:46 NVIDIA invests in Intel 19:01 Bitdeer A3 launch 24:16 Luxor Forward and Energy Markets 31:54 Cry Corner: NAKA is down bad

Click Here To Join the BitAxe Giveaway Welcome back to The Mining Pod! Today, Matt Williams, the head of financial services at Luxor, joins Will and Colin to dive into this week's bitcoin mining news, including a massive bitcoin mining stock rally, Nvidia's $5 billion investment into Intel, and Bitdeer's new SEALMINER A3 ASIC miner series. Plus, Matt teases a new energy market product coming soon from Luxor, and we examine NAKA's brutal stock crash after its PIPE equity unlock. **Notes:** • Bitcoin's difficulty jumped 4.9% and 4.6% back-to-back • Nvidia invested $5 billion stake in Intel chips • NAKA stock crashed from $25 to $1.40 this year • New A3 miner delivers 290 TH at 12.5 J/TH Timestamps: 00:00 Start 05:17 Stocks are ripping, why? 10:46 NVDIA invests in Intel 19:01 Bitdeer A3 launch 24:16 Luxor Forward and Energy Markets 31:54 Cry Corner: NAKA is down bad

Freestyle skiers and snowboarders have been carving out a name for themselves around Queenstown and Wānaka, in a push for selection for next year's Winter Olympics in Milan. RNZ's Katie Todd has more.

Ōama, aka Temmu Tennō, ascended the throne in the Kiyomihara Palace--a rennovated version of his mother's Later Okamoto Palace.  Here he ruled with a tremendous amount of authority, continuing the leverage the Ritsuryo system to centralize power in the throne.  We'll look at the layout of the palace, and also talk a little bit about what life was like for the members of the court who were serving Oama, and the state at large. For photos, diagrams, and more, see our blog at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/episode-134 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 134: An Image of the Court at Kiyomihara Maro sat under the eaves of the hall to which he was assigned.  The journey from Mino hadn't been so hard, but he was still far from his family, back home.  He knew as much as they did that serving at the court of the Great Lord was a tremendous opportunity.  He would be at the heart of the court, in the presence of those running the country, and he could learn a lot from them.  After passing his internship, he would have a chance to prove himself.  If he worked hard, he could look forward to continued promotion, with the greater stipend and influence that came with it. Maro had no illusions that he would someday be at the top of the court hierarchy, but perhaps he could make some modest improvements in his station.  His elder brother was expected to inherit their father's position back in Mino, but the court provided a different opportunity.  Maro had always been a quick learner, and had learned to read and write at an early age, devouring whatever knowledge he could get his hands on – and that had helped make him that much more desirable to the court.  Now he was learning the ins and outs of how it worked, mostly by doing odd jobs while observing the various interactions, the politics, and the rhythm of it all.  Life at the Court really was something.  And yet he still felt homesick.  And so here Maro sat, looking out at the full moon in the sky, its light so bright that he barely needed any other illumination.  Maro wondered at the idea that his family might be looking up at the same moon at the very same time.  As that image took hold, he could feel in the experience a poetic verse.  He took out one of the wooden slips used for labels and notes, scraped off the previous writing, and began jotting down his composition. He only got through a couple of lines before he heard his name being called, and since he was on night duty he put down the brush and the wooden slip.  Poetry would have to wait.  With everything put back away, he rushed off to find out what new task awaited him. So here we are, the year is 673 and we are at the start of a new era.  Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, had defeated his enemies and was now in the process of taking the reins of power and officially ascending the throne.  In so doing he was moving the capital from Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa, back to Asuka.  Arriving back, he took up residence in what is called the Shima palace for a few days, presumably as they prepared the Okamoto Palace for him.  At the same time, we are told that a “palace” was erected for Ohoama south of the Okamoto Palace, and this was called the Kiyomihara Palace. I'd like to spend this episode talking about this Kiyomihara Palace, and what life was like there, not just for Ohoama but for his new court.  While we talked about some of the other palaces, this is perhaps one of the better known from the archaeological record, and it is the backdrop for so much that happens.  Ohoama is even known as the Sovereign from Kiyomihara.  So let's talk about what the palace consisted of, and what it was, and a little bit about what life was like there.  In addition to that, we've discussed in previous episodes how Ohoama's ascension to the throne kicked off a whole new era in the evolution of the Yamato state, with numerous innovations and new paradigms in the idea of the ruler and the court and their relationship – so it's worth taking a closer look at the setting where all of that was happening, so we can try and put ourselves in the shoes of those doing the work, and understand their daily grind, as it were. There is unfortunately plenty about the Kiyomihara Palace that we don't know - it isn't like there is a detailed account of the palace in the records - but its ruins are probably the most complete of all those found in Asuka.  This makes sense, given that it would have been built over the earlier palace sites.  In fact, for the most part, the Kiyomihara Palace is just the Later Okamoto Palace, in other words where Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, ruled, but updated and expanded to fit Ohoama's and his court's needs.  Archeological work in Asuka has done some tremendous work to help us understand the Asuka Palace Site.  By studying the various post holes, ditches, and other evidence, along with occasionally discarded items, we have a general idea of the palace's shape, and when we combine this with what we know from other sites—the Naniwa Palace ruins in Ohosaka, the Fujiwara palace ruins in Kashihara, and the Heijo-kyo ruins in Nara, among others—along with an understanding of how palaces were being built on the continent, we are able to piece together what we think was going on.  Of course these interpretations aren't unanimous, and there are parts that scholars will no doubt quibble over—such as the use of the Ebinoko compound, which I'll talk about in a bit—but in general we have a picture of what things probably looked like, at least from a layout perspective, and how the site may have been used. To start, let's go back for a moment to the Toyosaki Palace in Naniwa, the first palace purpose built for the new governmental system being brought over from the continent.  This was the palace of Karu Ohokimi, aka Koutoku Tennou, uncle to Naka no Ohoye.  It was built in the aftermath of the Isshin Incident of 645, an architectural centerpiece of the Taika reforms.  As you may recall, this was a massive undertaking.  This palace was largely rectangular, and consisted of three compounds from south to north, ranging from most to least public. Most people would enter from the south gate, later known as the Suzaku-mon, the gate of the crimson bird of the south, a pattern that would generally hold true for other palaces.  Entering the compound, you would find yourself in the Choshuden, a space holding two pavilions with several rooms where officials could change into or out of their official robes.  The gates to the Choshuden would open at sunrise for the clerks and functionaries would enter.  At the northern end of the Choshuden was the Southern gate of the Chodoin, the main working area of the court.  There were 14 halls, or Chodo, each one dedicated to a different ministry.  The size of these halls varied, likely based on importance or at least the size of their government portfolio. Most of the middle area of the Chodoin was open, but at the northern end was the gate to the Dairi, the inner palace.  This gate was flanked by two octagonal buildings, and it led to an area between the Chodoin and the Dairi where there sat the building that would become the Daigokuden.  This was the main audience chamber for meetings with the sovereign, who would preside and make pronouncements in the early morning hours, at the start of the day. To the north of the Daigokuden was the rest of the Dairi, where the sovereign's personal quarters lay, including the quarters for his consorts and children, maintained by his personal servants.And there were other gates into and out of the Dairi—after all, the palace was so large you didn't want to have to go through the Choushuden and Choudouin just to get to the sovereign's quarters.  Those who lived in the Dairi and those who worked there would be able to have their own entrances and exits. Let's contrast all of this with the Okamoto Palace in Asuka.  More precisely the Later Okamoto Palace.  This was the successor palace to the Itabuki palace, both of which were built for Takara Hime, aka Kougyouku—and by this point Saimei—Tennou.  In fact, Itabuki palace burned down at the end of 654, just as Takara Hime came to the throne a second time.  This palace was, in total, maybe the size of the Chodoin of the Toyosaki Palace, if that.  For one thing, there wasn't as much flat land easily available in the valley, but for another, the builders maybe didn't think they needed quite that much space and that many buildings.  You see, while the Toyosaki palace in Naniwa was likely meant to model the kind of infrastructure necessary for the Tang court, in Chang'an, Yamato was still building up its fledgling bureaucracy.  It wasn't like there were a flood of reports and correspondences coming in from all over the archipelago that had to be handled by an army of clerks.  At least not yet. The Okamoto palace, from what we can tell, was also a rectangle, once again facing south , on the east side of the Asuka river.  This palace did not necessarily have the same kinds of dedicated spaces as the Toyosaki Palace. The main gate that we know of was in the south, leading to a courtyard with another building—possibly the Ohoandono, alternatively the Ohoyasumidono or the Daianden.  This may have been an audience hall for meeting with public officials.  The ground here was covered in gravel, a fairly common thing for palace compounds. Though we don't know exactly what the buildings looked like, we have some idea based on the size and number of post-holes.  We also haven't found any ceramic tiles in or around the ruins so far, which suggests that Okamoto Palace did not have ceramic tile roofs as were common on temple architecture, but instead were likely covered with wooden shingles, like the Itabuki Palace that used to be in relatively the same spot.  From an archeological perspective, any tiled building of this size leaves a lot of indications behind: over the years tiles fall off, break, get buried, etc.  Even if, as was common, the court meticulously dismantled the buildings down and reused as much as they could, we would still expect to see some tiles or tile fragments in the ground where the pillars are found, and yet we find nothing of the sort.  To the east and west of the Ohoandono were long, narrow structures, oriented north to south rather than east to west.  These are thought to have been the offices where government officials could do their work. Moving into the northern section of the palace, the ground was paved with river stones.  There were two large buildings with small wings, running east to west, lengthwise, and situated on the same line as the Ohoandono.  These may have been what have been called the To no Andono, or outer Hall, and the Uchi no Andono, the inner hall, and they would have been used for ceremonies for those of the appropriate rank. The middle hall it seems was modified from its original form.  While it was similar in size and footprint to the hall north of it, the western wing of the southern hall at some point was destroyed—whether on purpose or accidentally—and it was replaced with what appears to have been a pond. On each side of this central area we see more space for buildings, but only some of the post holes have so far been uncovered.  There were other buildings further in the northernmost third of the compound that were likely for the sovereign's private usage, as well as a well, and what may have been a building for some kind of semi-private religious ceremony. This palace, the Okamoto Palace, was essentially what Ohoama started from when he  relocated the capital back to Asuka – but when he ascended to the throne, he did make a few changes.  Most notable was the creation of something called the ebinoko-kuruwa, the Ebinoko enclosure.  This was to the southeast of the main palace, and had a rectangular wall surrounding one large building and two smaller ones.  Interestingly, the buildings would appear to be oriented in a symmetrical shape that would suggest a southern entrance, like the other palace compounds we've been discussing, and yet the gate was to the west, opening to the area between the Ebinoko enclosure and the main palace.  And based on postholes and other evidence, there appear to have been at least four other rectangular buildings stretching out to the south, outside of the walls.  Some have theorized that the large building in the Ebinoko  was an early form of the Daigokuden, a ceremonial hall where Ohoama held court, rather than reusing the facilities of the old Okamoto palace.  Alternately,  perhaps it was actually more like the buildings of the Chodoin in Naniwa, where the different departments of the court actually did business, but here with all of the officials working in one, single building.  A third idea that others have suggested that this was actually Ohoama's private residence—again, somewhat odd given the size and shape and the fact that there were the seemingly larger facilities of the Okamoto palace already right there for the taking. So which is it?  We do have a clue in the record of the 15th day of the 9th month of 672, and the lines following it.  According to the Aston translation of the Nihon shoki: He removed his residence from the Palace of Shima to the Palace of Okamoto. In this year a Palace was erected south of the Palace of Okamoto, and the Emperor removed his residence thither that same winter.  This was called the Palace of Kiyomibara in Asuka. So it does seem like something was built south of Okamoto and that is where Ohoama resided.  It is somewhat uncommon for a sovereign to reuse an old palace like this.  Traditionally, sovereigns had regularly moved to new palaces, seemingly because of the attempts to avoid ritual pollution associated with death.  Of course, it had been a while since Takara hime had passed away, and Naka no Ohoye had moved everything to Ohotsu, but nonetheless, is it possible that the Ebinoko kuruwa was built to, in some way, give Ohoama new quarters? We may never know for sure.  There are plenty of inconsistencies.  For one, if it was meant as a residence, I would expect more buildings for his consorts and others.  There are also some things to note about the account in the Nihon Shoki.  For one thing, although the initial account calls this the Kiyomihara Palace,  the Chronicles also suggest that it wouldn't actually get that name until the 20th day of the 7th month of 686, about 14 years later. That record describes how a new era name was also announced:  the Akamitori, or red bird, era.  I don't want to get too much into it right now, but suffice it to say that a red, three legged crow is often depicted as the symbol of the sun; and the important south gate of the palace, the Suzaku-mon, is named for the vermillion bird of the south, one of the four guardian animals.  When this era name—more commonly read as “Shucho”, today, since era names are commonly red in on'yomi reading rather than kun'yomi—well, when it was declared, we are told that the palace was titled the Palace of Kiyomihara of Asuka. What are we to make of this? Well, today, it is assumed that the Kiyomihara palace refers to the Okamoto Palace starting from the creation of the Ebinoko-kuruwa and its occupation during what is assumed to be Ohoama's rule.  Earlier in the Nihon Shoki we are told that Ohoama was known as the Kiyomihara sovereign, and so even though that name technically wasn't applied to the palace until later, it makes some sense just to assume it applied from the start of Ohoama's renovations. One more thing that I would point out.  While we talked about the original Okamoto Palace and the newly built Ebinoko enclosure, they were arranged as though around a large open area, like a courtyard.  The original palace stood at the north, where one could enter the south gate of the palace, and then the Ebinoko enclosure sat on the east side of the courtyard, with its western gate between the two.  The southern and western sides of the courtyard, on the other hand, followed the snaking flow of the Asuka River. From about 675 to 681, on or about the 17th day of the first month of the year, it's recorded that the court held an annual archery shoot in the court of either the West or South Gate—which would seem to refer to this large area.  This makes sense, as the space is large enough to accommodate plenty of room for the range and for others to watch The archery exhibition   was held here, in the space between the two compounds, like clockwork until 681, when we are just told that it was held in the “Courtyard”, which feels like it is referring to an area inside the main compound of Kiyomihara. There are no more mentions of the tradition after 681, though there is an archery shoot in front of the South Gate on the 5th day of the 5th month of 685, but that was probably done as part of the regular 5/5 celebrations—a holiday today known as Kodomo no Hi, or Children's Day, but more traditionally known as Tango no Sekku, the Iris festival.  Some form of celebration on this date seems to have occurred throughout East Asia up until the modern day. Whether the archery stopped or just became such a standard thing that it was no longer noteworthy in the record, I can't really say.  However, one can possibly imagine what it was like, with all of the courtiers out there watching as the arrows shot down the field.  The occasional twang of bows and the faint whistle as it sped towards its target, hitting the target with a sharp thwack.  Murmurs from the crowd regarding how well—or how poorly—any given person was doing. Beyond the courtyard and what we know of the two compounds—the Kiyomihara palace and the Ebinoko Enclosure—there is plenty still to discover.  There were likely other compounds around the palace, possibly as an extension of the palace.  And then there were the temples: west, across the river, was Kawaradera, and north of the palace and surrounding compounds was Houkouji, or Asukadera.  There is even some evidence on the northwest edge of the compounds, southwest from Asukadera, of an ancient garden surrounding several manmade ponds. And so, the entire valley appears to have been filled with buildings and official spaces , running up against and being constrained by the natural features of the valley itself.  As I mentioned above, there just isn't that much buildable space in the Asuka valley, compared to other places like Naniwa.  And this contributed to one of the other problems that the court would have experienced: according to tradition,  the front of the palace and other buildings were all oriented south, but for this location, this meant that they didn't face the expansive fields of the Nara basin, but instead they faced the mountains themselves.  All in all, there was not much room here to grow, and yet the government and the court had grown, at least by all accounts. Though, how much had the court grown? Maybe not as much as we might expect, despite Ohoama's ambitions.  First of all there had been the purge of the powerful ministers at the head of the Afumi court, but there are some startling omissions in the records from the beginning of Ohoama's reign.  There is no mention of the Daijin, or Great Minister.  There is no Minister of the Right or Minister of the Left.  There is no Inner Minister, and there is no Great Minister of State.  There are mentions of the “kugyou”, or “Ministers of State”, which traditionally includes the Daijin, but there is no mention of the Daijin, suggesting that the “kugyou” of this time may have only referenced the heads of the 8 ministries of the Dajokan, the Council of State.  What does this mean? Many scholars interpret this period as a time of extremely centralized power.  Coming off of his military victory, Ohoama seems to have ridden a wave of support and control.  Combine that with the continued absorption of Tang dynasty propaganda-slash-government theory that saw the sovereign—the emperor—as the central authority, and one can see how Ohoama may have been able to do something that few sovereigns in Japanese history were able to actually do, which is to wield real power.  This may seem odd for a position translated into English most commonly as  “Emperor,” but as we've seen, in glimpses through the way they are depicted in the Chronicles, or through the archaeological record, which shows different loci of power and authority across the archipelago in ancient times, the Ohokimi, later dubbed the Tennou or Sumera no Mikoto, was not necessarily all powerful.  Not only did they have to contend with rivals to the throne, but even various court nobles who made their way into the centers of power.  From figures like Takeuchi no Sukune, to the Ohotomo, the Mononobe, and more recently the Soga—in all of these cases various nobles often held considerable power, though often in tension with one another. Sources of authority also varied.  There were the individual religious centers through which families exercised some ritual authority, while there was also more secular authority in the various court positions.  The Ohokimi certainly were respected, from what we can tell, and had a powerful source of authority going back to at least the holy kami of Mt. Miwa.  They even spread that authority through their kannushi, their priests, which they sent out as an extension of the state.  But they weren't entirely independent, either. But Ohoama seems to have reached a point where he did hold a tremendous amount of authority.  Because there is another telling omission from the chronciles: we don't see any more Soga members.  With the death of Soga no Akaye, the Soga family's influence seems to have disappeared this reign.  We also don't see that much about other prominent families compared to earlier: we see the Mononobe as ambassadors, and we see the Nakatomi are still conducting rituals.  But we don't see any of them rising to the same positions as their forebears.  Instead, we see a lot of focus on the Princely class—those members who claim some descent from a previous sovereign, or even the current sovereign, and how they, themselves, are divided up with their own system of ranks that are outside the civil service ranking system. Speaking of civil service, it does always strike me that the ranking systems of various east Asian courts very much resemble the way that, even today, many modern bureaucracies create wage scales for their civil servants.  In the US the most common such scale is the GS or “General Schedule” pay system.  In that system, positions are associated with a particular grade, between 1 and 15, and federal employees are also referred to in terms of those grades.  Grade typically reflects some level of seniority and pay.  It isn't a one-for-one analogy, of course: the court ranks in Yamato were handed out by the sovereign, or at least through their authority, as were the various court positions, though I doubt that Ohoama was spending much personal time approving promotions for a low level clerk writing down inventories and suchlike—but who knows.  But it does emphasize that this system is built to be a centralized bureaucratic monarchy, based on the continental model, and it now seems to have come into its own.  The court seems to have bought into the idea, and now, intentionally or not, much of their own position in society was directly tied to the autocratic whims of the monarch, or Ohoama himself. Indeed, some of the first records from the year 673 are focused on the court and court system.  The very first thing this entailed:  a banquet on the 7th day of the first month of the new year.  We are told that it was a “drinking party” or “shuen”, and boy does that draw some parallels with modern Japanese companies.  We aren't exactly given the form of this party, but we do have later examples.  There was likely a formal start, with various nobles set out at assigned seats based on their rank.  It was an official event, so officials would have been expected to wear the appropriate clothing, including their caps of rank, letting everyone know exactly who's who, and reinforcing the social hierarchy imposed by the rank system in the first place.  I suspect that it started with ritual and formality.  Later, you would have the after party, where people might more freely mingle and drink and recite poetry.  This was both an official and social occasion, because there really wasn't much of a line drawn between the two.  As a ritual, it displayed Ohoama's power over the state through his ability to host them all.  As a social function it was an important time in the political life of the court, where everyone was together, and you could find your cliques and supporters. Drinking alcohol, while being something that many enjoy for its own sake, was also a kind of religious observance.  Sake was made to be offered to the kami, as well as to be used at parties.  It was made from rice, the staple on which the agricultural success of the archipelago was based, and which held a particularly sacred place in other rituals and ceremonies. And then there was the poetry.  As would be true for much of Japanese history, poetry infused all aspects of life at the court, and being able to compose good poetry was just as important to one's social standing as reading, writing, and other such skills. There were generally two kinds of poetry practiced at the court.  There was the traditional Japanese poetry, or waka, with alternating verses of 5 or 7 syllables—more properly morae, but no need to get into that.  Then there was poetry composed in the Sinitic style.  Known as “Kanshi”, which translates directly as “Han Poetry”, this mimics the poetic forms brought over in literature from the continent.  It required a certain amount of education to be able to compose and was based on the characters, or kanji, used.  Kanshi can generally be divided into at least two categories.  There is the Kotaishi, or the Old Style Poetry, which consists of poetic form used prior to the Tang dynasty.  Then there is Kintaishi, or Modern Style Poetry, which is based on the forms from the Tang dynasty and later.  Kintaishi is usually recognized for adhering to more rules of structure and composition, usually using lines of 5 or 7 characters, while Kotaishi is more fluid and less concerned with specific rules and rhythms. Poetry was also not necessarily a solo activity.  It was common in later eras to arrange poetry competition, where the court would divide itself, much like the bureaucracy, between the Left and the Right.  Each group would compose poetry, often on a set theme, and then  put up the poems they felt were the best against those of the other side and then the entire court would listen and judge.  The only tangible reward, assuming the sovereign was not so moved as to do something extraordinary, was bragging rights.  And yet, that social capital was important among the nobles of the court.  Image was extremely important to individuals, and embarrassment could be a political death sentence.  And so many would work hard at these poems to make sure that they were the best they could be. At this point, though, we are still in the early years of many of these traditions.  The poetry that we have appears to be less formulaic than we see in later eras, when there were so many precedents to which one was expected to adhere.  Poems could be about feeling and were not required to hearken back to previous poems and poetic allusions. By the way, official events like this are also one of the ways that we get compilations of poems, later on.  These events would get transcribed and then later those poems would be referenced, particularly if they were noteworthy or by noteworthy individuals.  This kind of event may have been where a lot of the poems from works like the Man'yoshu and the Kaifusou, the earliest compilations of Waka and Kanshi, respectively.  At some point I”d love to dig into the poetry more in depth, but for the moment, I think it is best to leave it there. Now besides one's skills at poetry there were other skills that the court was interested in.  The court system that they had lifted from the continent was based, at least theoretically, on the idea of a meritocracy.  The monarch, of course, was judged to be worthy to rule through the mandate of Heaven, which often demonstrated itself early in the regime through the Emperor's forces defeating their enemies, much as Ohoama had defeated his rivals in the Afumi court.  However, for the rest of the government, the sovereign needed to make sure that he had qualified individuals.  From an early point in history, people recognized that not everyone born into power and wealth was necessarily the best person to help run things.  If you could only find those of the greatest intellect, discernment, and moral compass, then those are the ones you would want to have running things, right?  And this is fine in theory. However, determining who has those qualifications can be a bit tricky.  We talked about this back in episodes 71 and 72 when we talked about the Han dynasty more generally.  In that case, while the civil service exam was open to any person, the reality was that only those with enough wealth and leisure time could afford to study to take the test.  And so while it did open up opportunities for some, it did not truly apply equally across all classes of people.  And this was likely fine with most of the ruling class at the time, since there were also still theories that there were different classes of people, and it simply reinforced their ideas that those in the lower classes just didn't have the same capabilities that they had.  In the Yamato court early in Ohoama's reign it isn't clear to me exactly how individuals were being chosen for service.  We know that rank was handed out as a reward for service, varying with the individual.  Ohoama handed out rank at the end of 672 to those who had helped him to come to power, and then, on the 29th day of the 2nd month of 673, just two days after he formally ascended the throne, we are told that he conferred cap-rank on those who had performed good service, each according to their situation. Of course, that is about how promotions were rewarded.  But what about how people entered into service in the first place?  How did you get introduced to a job in the bureaucracy in the first place?  Well for that we have Ohoama's pronouncement on the first day of the fifth month.  He addressed the court and set it up as follows: First, anyone who would take a government position would begin their career as an “ohotoneri”.  These were low level functionaries who supported the various bureaus as guards, messengers, and whatever else was needed.  Previously, this all would have fallen under the general term of “toneri”, who were those members of the nobility who had been sent to serve in the royal palace.  Aston translates this as a “chamberlain”, and thus equates oho-toneri—literally “great toneri”—as “high chamberlain”, though I'm not sure if that was actually the distinction or not.  It looks like the term “toneri” itself may pre-date the Ritsuryo system, but now was being more standardized, with expanded categories of “toneri” within the system itself.  Interestingly, there is only one other example I could find of Ohotoneri before the reign of Ohoama and that was in the account of Waketakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tennou, which makes me think that might be an anachronism.  We definitely see “toneri” used since just before that reign and continuously onward, and we see them in regards to not just the royal house, but as the functionaries and servants in various places and for other aristocratic families, but the “ohotoneri” seem to have been specifically connected to the royal family… and thus the state. Ohotoneri, despite being quote-unquote “great” toneri, were at the relative bottom of the hierarchy.  They were the night shift, the guards, the messengers, and the general go-fers.  They were essentially paid interns.  As they did their tasks, they were learning about how the various offices and ministries worked, and they were demonstrating their own aptitude.  Based on how they did, they would then be assigned to various offices as seemed most suitable. There were also offices that were staffed by women.  Though separate and distinct, women also had a role in the palace and thus the maintenance of the court and the state.   They were to be selected for service regardless of their age or even whether they were married or not, but they fell under a separate set of rules from the men, because, well, patriarchy. So that's what happened when people were selected to serve, but who was selected?  The chronicles don't say explicitly until a decree about three years later in the 4th month of 676, when it was decreed that all those from provinces outside of the Home Provinces could enter the service of the sovereign, no matter their family's rank, whether Omi, Muraji, Tomo no Miyatsuko, or Kuni no Miyatsuko.  They would also allow men of quote-unquote “distinguished ability” enter service, even though they were commoners. From that we can surmise that when they are talking about “all” people really they are talking about “all” the nobility—the only people for whom the Nihon Shoki was really intended, if you think about it.  Thus, logically it would seem that prior to this only members of the nobility were allowed to enter government service—but there is even more.  Because before this pronouncement in 676, only people in the Home Provinces were theoretically allowed to enter government service. The Home Provinces, or Kinai, are traditionally the five provinces of Yamato, Kawachi, Izumi, Yamashiro, and Settsu.  At this point, though, Izumi was still a part of Kawachi, so it would have just been the four.  These provinces were likely the first lands to really come under Yamato's direct control, and as such they all held a certain pride of place.  This is also where we assume that the powerful families of Yamato had their strongholds.  Certainly the Soga, the Mononobe, and the Ohotomo all had claim to traditional land in and around this region.  When the court had moved to Ohotsu it would have been the first time in many years that the capital was moved out of the Home Provinces, which was probably a large part of the dissent expressed at the time.  How would you like it if your job up and moved two states away and forced you to relocate with them, likely at your own expense? In 676, though, the court decreed that it would no longer restrict itself to noble families of the Home Provinces, but instead would open up service, and the lucrative stipends that came with it, to members of the nobility in the rest of the archipelago. This seems particularly intriguing given the two swords we have from the time of Waketakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuryua Tennou, in the 5th century, where elites had served—or at least claimed to serve—at his court.  It is possible that during his day the influence of Yamato was more expansive, and that influence contracted after him. Or it could be that it was a different type of service that they had provided. And then there is the comment in Ohoama's decree that the court would also allow men of “distinguished ability” to also enter service, even if they were commoners.  How very progressive.  This seems clearly designed to suggest the meritocratic system that was the ideal, even if it was only truly observed in the breach. I can't help but think about how this symbolizes the court's expanded control across the archipelago, and the idea that all of the archipelago was truly under their control.  It also meant that they had opened up the candidate pool to a wider audience.  Does that mean that they were growing the size of the government, too?  I also can't help but wonder how the old guard took this—the traditional families from the Home Provinces who suddenly found themselves competing with people from the periphery.  Did they see them as equals, or the equivalent of upstart country bumpkins?  And let's not even get started on anyone who joined government service as a Commoner. On the other hand, I suspect these new functionaries would have owed their position even more directly to the sovereign and the court, and they might not have strong familial ties to the local area.  This is all just theory, but seems to follow with Ohoama's general efforts at centralization and accretion of power and authority to himself whilst further building out the structure that his brother, Naka no Ohoye, had set up.  Along those lines, at the same time that the sovereign opened up membership in the court to those outside of the Kinai region, he also meddled with the incomes of the various Princes and Ministers.  He insisted that those Princes and Ministers who were receiving taxes from fiefs in the West—by which I assume is meant western Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu—they should instead get their income from fiefs in the East.  So he was taking away the western fiefs and instead swapping them with eastern fiefs.  Those western taxes could then, presumably, come straight into the government coffers, and the princes and ministers would be connected with land in the east, which I suspect meant they would be expected to invest in those fiefs and encourage them to produce. This feels like it goes along with something from two years earlier, in 675, the third year of Ohoama's reign.  In the second month of that year he abolished the serfs granted to the various Uji back in 664, and he abolished any claims by Princes—Royal or otherwise—as well as Ministers and Temples to any mountains, marshes, islands, bays, woods, plains, and artificial ponds.  It seems clear that he claimed the right of eminent domain to himself and the state.  By extension, all land effectively belonged to Ohoama, and everyone else became, de facto, his tenants.  They paid taxes up to him, and he had the right to grant or take away the land as he saw fit. I can't imagine that went over well with those who had lost their rights to those lands, but either he compensated in them in some other way or his power had grown such that they didn't dare to oppose him.  Certainly not everyone was happy. In 677, Saita no Fubito no Nagura was banished to the island of Izu for apparently scoffing—or otherwise disrespecting—Ohoama.  Well, it says his vehicle, but Aston notes that this is probably just a polite euphemism for the sovereign himself. But that rebuke seems to have been pretty light compared to two years earlier when a man—we aren't even given his name, assuming it was known, hiked up the hill east of the palace, cursed Ohoama, and then cut his own throat.  How it was known that he had been cursing anyone isn't explained—though perhaps he had written it down or otherwise communicated his intentions.  Either way, it was certainly a rebuke. But if it phased Ohoama, we can't tell.  He did give those on duty that night a step in rank, presumably for the trauma they had experienced in dealing with everything. Possibly related—we are told that same month there was a great earthquake.  So was that thought to be the curse being fulfilled?  There is nothing to connect them except that the one immediately follows the other. And yet, Ohoama would continue to rule as he saw fit.  In fact, he would rule roughly 14 years, in total, right up to his death in 686.  A rather substantial reign compared to so many other sovereigns.  And he would continue to make his mark. Next episode we will continue our journey through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

With the end of the Jinshin War, Oama, posthumously known as Temmu Tenno, came to the throne.  And though they would need a new Great Council of State, they continued to build up and bolster the Ritsuryo state.  They were imagining a new Yamato based on continental models of what a state should look like, but also influenced by tradition.  This episode we take a look at that reimagining in broad strokes, asking a few questions--what was Oama's relationship with his brother, and touching on the relationship of Nakatomi no Kamatari and his brother, Nakatomi no Kane.  We also take a look at some of the literary propaganda that also helped to codify this new imaginary--the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.  We also touch on other sourcesof information, like the Fudoki and Man'yoshu. For more information, check out our blog:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-133   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 133: Reimagining Yamato As the bells of Houkouji tolled, Ohoama and his wife, Uno, surveyed the construction on going in the Asuka valley.  Hordes of workers had been called up, and now they were working furiously towards the deadline of the new year.  Where once stood the later Wokamoto palace of Takara Hime, aka Ohoama's mother, Saimei Tennou, now the land was being prepared for a palace on a much grander scale.  And just as the palace was being remade, Ohoama's thoughts went beyond the valley, to the entire archipelago.  His brother, Naka no Oe, had started something profound.  Now here he was, helming the Ship of State, and Ohoama had plans of his own, built upon his brother's ideas.  He would build a new state, ensuring that the reforms that started back in 645 would continue for generations. Greetings everyone and welcome back.  As we dive back in, let's recap where we are. The year is now 673, and the fighting from the previous year—the Jinshin war—is over.  Prince Ohoama and his Yoshino forces were victorious and he is now poised to ascend the throne in the recently built Palace of Kiyomihara, in Asuka.  He will be known to future generations by his posthumous name:  Temmu Tennou. Ohoama would go ahead and continue to centralize the government under the continental model.  That said, he also would pay a not insignificant amount of attention to local tradition as well.  His reign would lead to the establishment of the first permanent capital city: Fujiwara-kyo.  He is also credited with initiating the projects collecting various historical records, which culminated in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, the very chronicles on which this podcast is based – and both of which seem to have been designed specifically to promote the authority of the throne, specifically Ohoama and his descendants. Those descendants—the Temmu dynasty—would rule for almost a century, including four of the eight official female sovereigns (those eight become ten if you count the unofficial Himiko and Okinaga Tarashi-hime, aka Jingu Tennou).  This dynasty would reign from the end of the Asuka period up through to the Nara period, and it would see the evolution of the Yamato state into the kingdom of Nihon—which is to say the kingdom of Japan. The politics of this period were also quite something.  It is during this coming period that we see the rise of the famous Fujiwara family, who would come to dominate the political landscape.  We also see the continued contact with the mainland, with numerous trade goods coming over, many of which would be included in the famous Shousouin storehouse of Toudaiji temple, in Nara. Buddhism would also thrive, with Kokubunji, or provincial temples, being set up in a network around the archipelago.  There was also the building of the famous Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha statue, of Toudaiji. Art would also flourish.  The Man'yoshu would be published at this time—a collection of around 4,500 Japanese poems, or waka.  Meanwhile, the court would also focus on continental styles as well.  From this point on, not only do we have more evidence of what was happening through the written record, but the writing itself changed.  Different Sinitic characters were borrowed solely for their sound to help spell out Japanese words.  These would eventually be simplified, and known as “kana”.  The earliest use of these characters is known as “Man'yo-gana” because so many are traced back to the Man'yoshu itself.  They would eventually be standardized and simplified, becoming the hiragana and katakana we know and use today. But in 673, all of this is still on the horizon. So this is a great time to pause for a bit in our journey through the chronicles and set the stage for this next, incredibly transformative period in the archipelago by going over these larger patterns in some depth, so that, as we start to go through this period we get a better idea of just what was happening, and perhaps why.  That's what we'll do this episode. To start with, let's go back to the relationship between Naka no Oe and Ohoama.  As far as we can tell, these brothers were fairly close to one another.  Not only was Ohoama married to one of Naka no Oe's daughters, Princess Uno, he had actually taken as consort at least four of Naka no Oe's other daughters—all of which were Ohoama's nieces.  In turn, one of Ohoama's own daughters, Princess Touchi, had been married off to Ohotomo, aka the ill-fated Koubun Tennou.  On top of that, Naka no Oe and Ohoama both had taken as consorts daughters of Soga no Akaye, and both Ohotomo and Ohoama had consorts from Nakatomi—or Fujiwara—no Kamatari.  This demonstrates just how interrelated everyone was at court, presumably as a means of strengthening the ties between them.  Of course, as we've seen time and again, those ties were more symbolic than anything else, and certainly did not prevent the occasional use of violence, nor did it protect the fathers of those women from political repercussions when they found themselves on the wrong side. On the other hand, beyond the initial mention of their births, we don't see the two brothers together until Naka no Oe came to the throne.  Why?  Well, to be fair, we don't see much of anyone but the sovereign in the Chronicles unless there is a specific thing they are called out for—like an embassy, presenting something to the throne, etc.  Even Naka no Oe often isn't mentioned directly, even when he was the Crown Prince and supposedly helping run the government.  So that could be it. There are two apparent counter arguments to the idea that Naka no Oe and his brother, Ohoama, were tight.  First is a mention in the Toushi Kaden, the Family History of the Fujiwara Family, about Ohoama thrusting a spear into a board, which rattled Naka no Oe enough that he was apparently wondering if he needed to have his own brother taken out.  Then there is Ohoama's resignation at the time of Naka no Oe's death, presumably because he was warned that a plot was afoot, and that if he accepted Naka no Oe's offer to take the reins of the state in his own two hands then something—we aren't told what—would unfold. I can't rule out the idea that neither of those accounts is quite accurate either, however.  It is possible that the Toushi Kaden account is embellished to heighten Fujiwara no Kamatari's own role as peacemaker between the brothers.  I also have to wonder if the warning to Ohoama around Naka no Oe's death wasn't so much about Naka no Oe, but about his ministers.  After all, they seem to have had no problem supporting the much younger—and likely more malleable—Prince Ohotomo.  So it seems to me entirely possible that there were other threats that Ohoama was concerned with. That brings me to one of those ministers:  Nakatomi no Kane.  We talked about him before and during the war.  He first showed up participating in ritual and speaking on kami matters.  He would later rise to be one of the Great Ministers of State, and was one of the six ministers who had pledged themselves to Prince Ohotomo.  At the end of the Jinshin War, he was put to death and his family was banished.  That said, in period leading up to all of that,  we spent a good amount of time with another Nakatomi: Nakatomi no Kamatari. He was the head of the Nakatomi clan and the Naidaijin, the Interior Minister, a special position placing him on par, or even above, the Ministers of the Left and Right, but which did not have a well defined portfolio noted in the literature.  Interestingly, this position also doesn't seem to have survived Kamatari, at least in the short run.  From the time of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, to the time of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, it seems that the office of Naidaijin fell out of favor, possibly due, in part, to Prince Ohotomo being raised to a different post, that of Dajou Daijin, placing him in charge of the Great Council of State. The Naidaijin role wouldn't be revived until 717 for Kamatari's grandson, Fujiwara no Fusasaki (interestingly,  only three years before the completion of the Nihon Shoki). Nakatomi no Kane was, as far as we can tell, the brother to Kamatari.  When Kamatari passed away, Kane seems to have taken on the role as head of the Nakatomi family and he was also made Minister of the Right.  This mirrors, in its way, the relationship between Naka no Oe and Ohoama, and the common system of inheritance that would often go brother to brother.  And yet, while Kamatari was a hero of the Taika era, Nakatomi no Kane was executed for his role in the Jinshin War.  So in the context of the rise of the Fujiwaras to greater prominence later on in Ohoama's reign, it is significant that Kamatari's line would be set apart from the rest of the Nakatomi to the extent of giving it the new Fujiwara name.  Although the Chronicles claim that the “Fujiwara” name was actually granted by Naka no Oe, there is a thought that this was granted posthumously, and may have even been retconned by later members of the family, possibly to distance themselves from Nakatomi no Kane and his role on the losing side of the Jinshin War, and tie themselves clearly to Kamatari and his founding role in Naka no Oe's and Ohoama's new vision, instead.  This all brings me to my next point: the creation of the national histories.  The projects that culminated in what we know today as the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki are said to have been started under Ohoama's reign, though they wouldn't be finished until much later, well into the 8th century.  A lot of what went into them was work under Ohoama's wife Uno, who succeeded him as Jitou Tennou, as well as her successors.  Prince Toneri, one of Ohoama's sons, is said to have overseen the Nihon Shoki's compilation. Prince Toneri was son of Ohoama and princess Niitabe, one of Naka no Oe's daughters, and while he never sat the throne, himself, one of his sons would eventually do so.  As such, we can see a strong royal hand on the project, even though the actual composition was probably by several teams of Chroniclers—we touched on this briefly back in Episode 131. The Kojiki, on the other hand, is said to have been written by Oho no Yasumaro based on the oral history that had been maintained by Hieda no Are.  We don't know much about Hieda no Are—there are some that believe they may have been a woman, since a passage in a later work, the Seikyuuki, suggests that they were a member of the Sarume no Kimi family, descended from Ame no Uzume no Mikoto, who is said to have danced and helped lure Amaterasu out of the rock cave.  And so they were particularly known for their role as shrine maidens—a particularly female role.  That said, Are received the title of “toneri”, which is often assumed to be male, and there is nothing else that explicitly says they were not. Either way, Hieda no Are is said to have been commanded by the sovereign, Ohoama, to memorize the history of the nation, presumably to then perform it as needed, for the court.  Only later was Oho no Yasumaro asked to write it down in what became known as the Kojiki. Both of these chronicles were attempts to organize the history of the nation and to put together all the stories in a way that would establish a foundation for the new state that was evolving out of ancient Yamato.  A large part of that effort was going to be to justify those who were in power at the time—including both the royal family and the various noble houses at the time, including the powerful Fujiwara. Now, when we talk about how these histories were created to bolster the state, I want to be careful.  It may not have necessarily been the case that the chroniclers were actively and consciously promoting a fictional account.  From what we can tell, the chroniclers drew from a collection of stories, some written down in diaries and court records, works like the Baekje annals and continental histories, and some that were likely just memorized tales that were part of the general culture.   There were a couple of existing histories—we are told, for example, that there was a Teiki and a Kyuji floating around, both attributed to the legendary Shotoku Taishi, and both supposedly including the royal lineage at least to Toyomike-kashikiya-hime, aka Suikou Tennou.  However, the copies that were being passed around were apparently suspect, and we are told that there were inconsistencies.  Which probably means that the way they told the story did not conform to the way that Ohoama and the royal family wanted it told, though it could also refer to the fact that different accounts had slight variations on the stories, many of which had probably started as oral traditions that were only later written down.  It is also likely that there was only so much detail in those ancient texts, but we can't know for sure.  The Sendai Kuji Hongi purports to be the text of the original Kyuuji, or Kyuujiki, but that claim is dubious, at best, though it may have used an older, no longer extant history to crib its own notes from. So there were probably some writings, already, but there was also so much more.  There were stories from various familial records, stories told by various shrines about their kami and their histories, and stories passed down as local history that had never been captured, previously.  All of this was good material for the project of creating an official national history that aimed to tell the whole story. To get an idea of what the Chroniclers of that time might have been going through, imagine that you have some 2,000 random facts about the United States, or any country of your choice, in no particular order—stories of heroes, presidents, wars, etc.  On top of that, only a few of them ever give you any kind reference dates, and when they do, those dates are only in relationship to the presidents in office – the third year of the presidency of Roosevelt, for example - or maybe they reference another event.  In addition, some of the facts have been lost, or they come from history books with a slightly different format.  Or they come from diaries with different perspectives and takes on the same event.  And then, without the aid of the Internet or any other reference material, you are asked to put all of that together into a coherent narrative. In all likelihood you would be able to generally construct many of the broad strokes.  You would leverage what you know to be true and do your best to put things in place, but there is no guarantee that everything would be in the right order.  And in places where there wasn't any clear through line, you may have needed to come up with your best, most plausible explanation and write that down. Also, imagine you had, in the interests of completeness, thrown in some of the more, shall we say, apocryphal stories.  George Washington cutting down a cherry tree, for instance, or the story of Johnny Appleseed, or even the more fantastical stories of Davy Crockett.  Without other reference points, would you know where they went, or how true they actually were? Add to all of that the lack of a referential calendar.  The sexagesimal system helps for units of 60 years, but there was nothing comparable to a western calendar in use at the time.  Instead, everything was based on the number of years in a given reign.  So instead of thinking about it as “did this happen in 584 or 524?” it was more like “Did this happen in the years of the sovereign reigning from X palace or Y palace?” Now that said, there do appear to have been individuals whose job was to memorize the stories and the histories and recite them.  We have, for example, the Kataribe, the guild of storytellers.  It may have been out of this tradition that we get the eventual commission of the previously mentioned Hieda no Are, who was to memorize all of the historical events and recite them back, which I can only imagine would have been a kind of performance for the court, helping to reinforce the narrative.  But still, as Are was putting everything together, what were the assumptions and guidelines they were working under? After all, there were no doubt certain truths, whether factual or not, that were pushed by the court.  Things like the idea of an unbroken line of sovereigns going all the way back to the mythical founding, just like in continental stories.  Or, the idea that worship centered from the beginning around the sun goddess, Amaterasu. There is plenty of evidence that while the early Wa people practiced various forms of sun worship, with traces found in their language as well as stories, cultural traditions, etc., it was not necessarily Amaterasu who was the primary deity of worship.  Back in the Age of the Gods we talked about the creator deities, Izanagi and Izanami, and about the High god of Heaven, Takami Musubi, who seems to at one point been the most prominent central deity, but who had since been eclipsed, if you will, by the likes of Amaterasu. We also see evidence that there were other sun deities.  The language around Sarutahiko no Ohokami suggests that he may have once been worshipped as a sun deity as well.  And there is the early primacy of Mt. Miwa as a place of worship, and the spirit of Ohomononushi.  This is to say nothing of Ohokuninushi, and all of his stories, up in Izumo. Furthermore, it seems telling that Amaterasu is not even central to the rituals conducted in the palace itself, which likely went back to an even earlier period.  If Amaterasu were central, and the ancestral kami of the royal family since its inception, one would expect that Amaterasu would also be central to the rites carried out by her descendants in the royal palace.  And yet most of her worship appears to have continued to be set apart from the palace ritual, and conducted out of Ise shrine (albeit after a certain point ceremonially led by a designated female member of the royal line). Even Ise shrine itself isn't the primary shrine in the Ise area—the Ichi-no-miya, or most important shrine, of Ise is actually said to be Tsubaki shrine, worshipping Saruta Hiko no Ohokami and Ame no Uzume. So how did Amaterasu come to be so central in Ohoama's vision? There are stories that say that worship at Ise Shrine—and worship of Amaterasu—was specifically conducted by Ohoama's wife during the Jinshin campaign.  This is to say Ohoama's wife, primary consort, eventual queen and then queen regnant, Uno, later known as Jitou Tennou.  Remember, Uno had fled with Ohoama and had been on the trail with him at first, but had stayed behind in Ise.  Worship towards Ise seems to have later been counted as foundational to Ohoama and Uno's victory, and many suspect that they themselves may subsequently have encouraged greater worship of Amaterasu and placed her in the central position of sacral authority amongst the various kami. If so, that could explain why their histories focus so much on Amaterasu and her Heavenly descendant, from which the royal line claimed direct lineage.  It might also be around this time that the story of Iwarebiko, aka Jimmu Tennou, and the conquest of Yamato from Himuka may have been introduced: telling how Iwarebiko justifiably took away the land from the descendants of Nigi Hayahi, and then connecting Iwarebiko, in an extremely loose fashion, to Mimaki Iiribiko no Mikoto, aka Sujin Tennou. Another influence on all of this was likely the continental concept that time is a circle, and history repeats itself.  Chroniclers seeking to place events in a narrative context would have likely seen reflections of more recent events and used that to help order their compilation.  And of course, if there were events that seemed to run counter to the truth as known by the court, well, those could be smoothed over.  In this way, co-rulers were probably serialized, inconvenient interim rulers may have been excised altogether, and different dynasties, which may have only had tenuous connections, at best, were written down as direct lineal descendants.  It also seems telling that the Chroniclers may have reduced the role of what appears to be matrilineal succession to a more patriarchal and patrilineal determination of legitimacy.  Similarly, connections could be made for families to ancient ancestors through whom they were able to claim a certain proximity to the royal family.  Likewise, rules for legitimacy could be imposed—or perhaps just assumed—for previous reigns, doing their best to bring them into harmony with the social norms and the cultural imaginaries of the late 7th and early 8th centuries. So that's the general context the Chroniclers were working under. But at this point it's illuminating to take a look at the two histories and how they differ, to see what we can understand about where those differences came from. The work of Hieda no Are, eventually recorded and written down as the Kojiki, seems to have dealt with history that was far enough back that it was likely hard to argue with—it isn't like there was anyone alive who could counter with their own facts.  And the Kojiki reads as a fairly straightforward narrative, relatively speaking. The Nihon Shoki, on the other hand, is a different beast.  While the Kojiki may have captured the official narrative, the Nihon Shoki seems to have been designed to include more—including some of the competing accounts.  Thus you'll get a lot of things like “another source says…” with a different take on the same event.  This is much more prevalent in the Age of the Gods, but still pops up occasionally throughout the rest of the text.  Nonetheless, it is still very much focused on the royal line from Amaterasu down to Naka no Oe and Ohoama.  Even their posthumous names, Tenji and Temmu, specifically reference Ten, also pronounced Ama, at the start of their names, in what appears to be a bid to further connect them to the sun goddess of Heavenly Brightness--Amaterasu. Both of these works have their own character, and while the dates they were presented to the throne—713 for the Kojiki and 720 for the Nihon Shoki—suggest that they were published in succession, there are those that argue that the Kojiki is largely a reaction against the Nihon Shoki. In all likelihood the contents of the Nihon Shoki were known to many people before it was presented.  There were groups of Chroniclers involved, after all -- which meant teams of scribes pouring through sources, seeking out myths and legends, and generally trying to bring everything they could to the table.  And there is no indication that this was done in secret.  So it is quite possible that the writers of the Kojiki had seen some of the early drafts and cribbed from those notes. Some of the ways that the the history differ are in their portrayal of certain accounts.  For example, the Kojiki presents Iwarebiko and the pacification of Yamato and archipelago more generally in terms of that mythical sovereign conversing with the spirits.  And so he converses with, for instance, Ohomononushi, the deity of Mt. Miwa, a spirit whose name might be translated as the Great Lord of the Spirits, or “Mono”.  This idea places the sovereign as an intercessor between the mortal and the spirit world.  It hearkens back to earlier systems of sacral kingship, where power and authority came, at least in part, from supposed power of one's sacred sites and protective spirits. The Kojiki is also written in a much more vernacular style, using kanji and what we know of as man'yogana, the kanji used for their sound, rather than meaning, to provide a syllabary with which to write out Japanese words.  This may have been done for similar reasons to why it was also used in the Man'yoshu itself—because the Kojiki was meant to be recited aloud, not just read for meaning. The Nihon Shoki, in contrast, is clearly attempting to emulate the continental style.  It relies much more heavily on not just the characters but the grammar of Chinese, though not without its own idiosyncrasies.  The Nihon Shoki incorporated classical references that mirrored the references found in the histories of the Tang and earlier dynasties.  I suspect, for instance, that this is one of the main reasons that Naka no Oe and Ohoama are given the posthumous names of “Tenji” and “Temmu”.  Tenji means something like the Wisdom of Heaven while Temmu is more like the Martial Virtue of Heaven.  This immediately brings to mind, for me, the continental concepts of Wen and Wu—Culture and Warefare, or Bunbu in Japanese.  This even mirrors the founding Zhou kings, King Wen and King Wu.  Later, in the Han dynasty, you have Emperor Wu of Han, the grandson of Emperor Wen of Han, and Wu was considered to be one of the greatest emperors of the Han dynasty.  And so I can't help but think that there was a similar attempt at mythmaking going on here, connecting these two reigns with the reigns of famous emperors of the continent.  Of course, “Wu” was a popular name amongst the imperial dynasties from that period onward, with emperors of Jin, Chen, Liang, and others all being given the same name. This all accords with the way that the sovereign in the Nihon Shoki is less of a sacral king, interceding and speaking with the kami, and more along the continental model of an absolute ruler who ruled by divine right and heavenly mandate.  The lands outside of Yamato are subdued and, except for the occasional uprising, stay subdued—or at least that is what the narrative would seemingly have us believe. Now, I would argue that these distinctions are not absolute.  The Kojiki contains plenty of concepts of imperial trappings, and the Nihon Shoki contains plenty of examples of the sovereign playing a more traditional role.  But it is something to consider in the broad strokes of what they are saying, and I would argue that it also speaks to the duality of what was going on in this period.  Clearly the Ritsuryo State was built on the continental model, with an absolute ruler who ruled through a Heavenly mandate.  And yet at the same time, we see Ohoama patronizing the traditional spiritual sites and kami worship, like the emphasis on Amaterasu and Ise shrine.  Besides the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, we have one more set of official records that were compiled just as the major histories were beginning to be finished.  These were the Fudoki.  Fudoki were texts about the various provinces, and they include information on the various places, population, soil quality, as well as various local myths and legends attached to such things.  Rather than supporting the royal lineage, the Fudoki were more geared towards supporting the process begun under Karu and Naka no Oe with the Ritsuryo system whereby knowledge of the archipelago was being centralized such that the State could know about its territories.  Still, there are many times that the various Fudoki refer to different sovereigns, often to help situate a given event roughly within the historical narrative. The Fudoki were commissioned in 713.  At least 48 chronicles were said to have been compiled, but only a handful of them remain extant today.  Most are only partial texts, though even those can still contain significant information.  We also have purported text from certain fudoki that were reprinted in later histories.  The Shaku Nihongi seems to have been one such work, expressly commissioned to try and compile various older records that were likely aging and in danger of being lost altogether.  However, there is a concern regarding just how faithful those later transcriptions might have been, meaning that we cannot rely on them, entirely.  Still, they are an invaluable addition to our study of the history of this period. I mention all of this because much of this period seems dedicated to remaking the nation of Yamato into what we know as Japan.  This evolution didn't happen overnight, and it seems clear that it started gradually, but had now come to a head.  There is some consideration, though, that many of the things attributed to earlier reigns—the work done by Shotoku Taishi, for example, or even that of Naka no Oe—may have been embellished in this period.  After all, consider the difference between Ohoama trying to institute something entirely new versus pointing back to a previous sovereign and claiming that he wasn't innovating, he was just following tradition. But there are still unmistakable signs of innovation in the following reigns.  The creation of the first permanent capital city, for one.  There was also the blending of Buddhist and local kami-based traditions.  While Buddhism had been ascendant for a while, now, we see Ohoama seemingly paying equal homage to Amaterasu and the local kami.  Even while instituting new fangled continental ideas, he is also hearkening back to traditions that I can only imagine helped assuage some of the fears of any traditionalists who saw the rapid speed at which the archipelago was adopting at least the trappings of continental imperial culture. Speaking of culture, there was one other work that we should probably mention, and that is the famous Man'yoshu—the collection of 10,000 Leaves.  I mentioned this briefly earlier in the episode, but I do want to discuss it a bit, because as much as we may glean from the official histories, as well as the various fudoki texts, the Man'yoshu provides an invaluable view into the minds of the people of the time, and contains some incredibly useful tidbits of information that, when put together, help give us a better idea of what was happening during this period. The Man'yoshu is a collection of more than 4500 poems attributed to various historical figures, from sovereigns, such as Ohoama and Naka no Oe, to common soldiers.  It is remarkable in that the poems are largely in native Japanese and are not using the Sinitic poetry styles that were popular with scholars of the time. These poems are waka, Japanese verse, which typically follows a pattern of repeating verses of 5-7-5 syllables or morae, ending with two lines of 7-7.  The most simple of these are tanka—one top verse of 5-7-5, and one bottom verse of 7-7.  However, the poems in the collection can vary quite a bit. They are also remarkable in that they are written in what we know as Man'yogana.  That is to say they use Sinitic characters—kanji—but for their sound rather than their meaning in many cases.  This practice allowed for much more nuanced writing, such that the author could be more certain that the correct meaning could be taken away, since Japanese grammar differs greatly from various Chinese languages, and leverages particles and suffixes that are non-existent in Sinitic script.  Often times, when reading something like the Nihon Shoki, one has to infer the Japanese word order, particles, and suffixes from the text as a whole.  This is common with any kanbun—a very Japanese style of Chinese writing that often requires its own study to fully understand. Meanwhile, the Man'yogana allowed someone to more easily sound out the letters in the Man'yoshu.  This must have been important when morae or syllable count was important to the art form.  Furthermore, it gives us tremendous insight into how spoken Japanese may have sounded  back in the 8th century. And of course it is great that we have all of these poems, but almost more important is the other information contained in the collection.  Most poems not only are attributed to a particular author, but they often give a brief introduction to lay out the circumstance in which the poem was composed.  These poems are, in many ways, more straightforward than many later poetic styles, which relied much more heavily on so-called “pillow words”, poetic allusions, or callbacks to previous poems—not that they were completely devoid of such references, especially to other, often continental, works. Some poems are actually paired—a type of call and response.  A man would often be expected to send a poem to a lady with whom he had recently had assignations, and she would often respond.  Through such correspondence, preserved in the poetic record, we can see connections that might not be as clear in the various historical texts. Now, 4500 is a lot of poems and I'll be honest, I'm probably not going to be researching all of them for historical tidbits, but it is nonetheless important to understand.  One should also be careful—while the poems are often attributed to various artists and famous persons, this may sometimes be misleading.  The attribution may have been garbled or forgotten, and recreated. Most of the poems in the Man'yoshu are presented with at least some amount of framing around them.  They are grouped loosely by various themes.  We are then told, for each poem, the composer and the occasion for which it was created.  Sometimes this may be as simple as “when they were out hunting”, but that still gives us some context on which to go by as for why the author was writing the poem in the first place. The poems themselves vary in size.  There are short poems, or tanka, but also longer form chōka poems, with multiple verses.  Some may allude to previous poems, but many of the poems are just about the author's feelings.  Unlike haiku, they were not quite so proscribed in terms of “pillow words” or requisite seasonal descriptions. And yet these poems, just as much as the histories, were important in capturing some part of the cultural zeitgeist from that time.  We can see what was considered popular or important, and it was there for future generations down until today. Ultimately the Kojiki would largely be overshadowed by the more comprehensive and prestigious seeming history in the Nihon Shoki.  The Nihon Shoki would become the official history, inspiring future historical records, such as the Shoku Nihongi, the continuation of the records.  The Man'yoshu, likewise, would be emulated, with future compilations like the Kokinshu. These, in turn, would impact the cultural imaginary of the time.  They would shape people's ideas about the past, about art, and even about the nature of the kami themselves.  During this period it is hard to understate just how much they were setting in place a new system.  It is even difficult to tell how much of that system had actually been instituted by previous sovereigns, even though it's hard to tell how much that actually happened as opposed to simple claims by Ohoama and, later, Uno, to justify what they were doing.  Up to this point, the Ritsuryou State and the various reforms had been an experiment, but under Ohoama we truly see that the new government upgrades would be fully installed.  At the same time, we also see a shake up in the court.  Those who had been loyal to Ohoama during the Jinshin conflict of 672 received various rewards—increased rank and stipend, for one thing.  As famous individuals passed away, they were also granted posthumous rank, which might not seem like much, but it increased the family's prestige and that of the individual's descendants without actually handing out a higher level stipend that would be a drain on the coffers.  All of this also continued to build up the elites' reliance on not just the court, but on the throne itself for their status, wealth, and position.  Thus they had a vested interest in seeing that the project succeeded. And that is the world that we are about to dive into.  Thank you, I know we didn't get into too much of the immediate history, and some of this is spoilers—after all, this took time and in the moment it could have turned out quite differently.  What if Ohoama had gotten sick and died?  What if there had been a rebellion?  What if Silla or Tang had attacked?  While we know what happened from the safety of our vantage point, far in the future, it is important to remember that at the time the people in the court didn't know what would happen next, so please keep that in mind. Next episode, we'll start to get into the actual events of the reign, starting with Ohoama's ascension to the throne at the newly built Kiyomihara palace in Asuka. Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Le nord du Mali a été ciblé par les jihadistes, qui ont procédé à des exécutions de civils dans la région de Ménaka. Mardi, ce sont des positions de l'armée qui ont été attaquées dans au moins trois localités. Ce jeudi, des populations civiles quittaient toujours des villages pour se protéger.

Mga tunay na kwentong ipinadala sa sindakstories2008@gmail.com.True Ghost Stories of Podcast Listeners. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The fourth and final episode in our series on the Jinshin no Ran: we cover the campaign in Afumi (aka Ōmi - 近江).  Prince Ōama and Prince Ōtomo (aka Kōbun Tennō), have drawn up their forces.  Last episode we covered the fighting in the Nara Basin, around the ancient Yamato capital: Asuka.  This episode focuses on the defense of the Karafu and Fuwa passes and the eventual march to the bridge at Setagawa. This is a name heavy episode, and we'll be noting some of it here: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-132   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 132: The Jinshin no Ran, Part 4: The Afumi Campaign The Afumi soldiers on the western side of the bridge looked across the open expanse of water towards their Yoshino rivals on the eastern side.  If it weren't for the banners and the red tags barely visible on the sleeves of the opposing forces, it would be hard to know which side was which.  Both were equipped in similar ways, and a few of the soldiers could even make out familiar faces on the other side.  That is the nature of civil wars—especially in a conscript society, where the soldiers often had little choice which side they were fighting for.  Not that it necessarily mattered much to them which side came out on top, whatever their commanders might have told them. The bridge across the Seta river was large and wide, and normally quite well traveled.  Now, however, the central boards had been pulled up for a span of about 30 feet or so, leaving a gap spanned by only a single, narrow plank.  That plank was, itself, tied to a rope, which was being held by the Afumi troops.  The soldiers knew that should any of the enemy try to cross, they could pull the plank out from under them and they would fall into the river, their metal armor dragging them down into the dark depths of swirling water below.  Even should they somehow make it across without being peppered by arrows, there would be no reinforcements coming: they would be slaughtered, and the trap would be reset. It seemed like the Afumi forces held all the cards in this battle, and yet they were still tense. Archers could still shoot across the distance. The front rank of troops held wooden shields as a defense, but there were still openings in the formation and the armor, and in the chaos of battle, nobody was truly safe. And so the Afumi forces waited.  Confident, but wary. A commotion on the eastern side of the bridge grabbed the spotlight.  The Yoshino forces had approached, and they were clearly preparing for something.  The Afumi soldiers strained to see what was going on.  Suddenly, the front line of the Yoshino forces parted, and a strange sight confronted the Afumi soldiers.  It took them a moment to fully comprehend what was barreling towards them at full tilt: a soldier that looked almost like two soldiers put together, wearing armor placed over armor, in an attempt to protect from harm.  It must have been heavy, and as he stepped on the beam, it visibly buckled under the weight.  The Afumi archers let loose with their arrows and crossbow bolts, but to no avail.  They simply stuck in the armor, adding to the bizarre and otherworldly appearance of their opponent. The spell was broken on the Afumi side as arrows came cascading in.  The Yoshino forces weren't just sitting idly back, they were making sure they were doing everything they could to keep the Afumi forces distracted.  And for a split second it worked—and a split second was all they needed.  Before the soldiers could gather up their wits about them enough to pull the rope there was a terrifying sound of metal on wood.  The Afumi soldiers pulled the rope, but it came all too easy—the Yoshino soldier had dashed across and cut the rope tied to the plank.  Behind him, the Yoshino forces were now pouring across the bridge.  Soon they would establish a foothold, and behind the front line they would be able to have other soldiers place more planks so that the number of Yoshino soldiers on the Western side of the bridge only continued to increase. Realizing that their trap had been circumvented, the Afumi forces fell back, but their strategic withdrawal soon turned into a full on retreat.  While pockets of soldiers resisted, many were suddenly all too aware that perhaps it was better to live and fight another day, instead.  Despite threats and even attacks from their own commanders, the Afumi forces fled the battlefield, leaving the Yoshino army victorious.  With the Seta bridge now secured, there were no more major obstacles in their way:  They would march to the capital at Ohotsu and finish this war.   Welcome back!  This is Part 4, and so if you haven't already done so, I recommend going back and starting with Part 1.  That said, we'll briefly recap here. Over the past three episodes, we've talked about the causes of the war between Prince Ohotomo and Prince Ohoama as they vied for the throne.  Prince Ohotomo seemingly had the stronger position, as he was actually running the Yamato state from the Afumi capital in Ohotsu.  He had the various ministers and all the official organs of the state on his side.   He was also 23 years old. Ohoama, on the other side, was Ohotomo's paternal uncle.  His own son, Prince Takechi, was 19 years old and helping to lead the army.   Upon learning that the State was gathering forces against him, Ohoama had quickly moved east, gathering forces as he went, and now he stood near Fuwa, modern day Sekigahara, prepared to begin his march on the capital.   This episode we are going to cover the conclusion of the war.  Warning, though, this is going to be a *lot*.  A lot of place names and people names.  Apologies if it is hard to follow.  I'll have a rough map and info on the various players on the podcast blog, so you may want to bring that up if you are having problems following. In Part I of this series we covered the causes leading up to the conflict.  In Part II we covered Ohoama's mad dash to Fuwa, at modern Sekigahara.  Last episode, Part III we covered the fighting in the Nara Basin. This episode we are going to talk about the last two fronts of the war: the defense of the Iga area and Kurafu Pass, and the march from Fuwa to the Afumi capital of Ohotsu. Before we go into the details of the next battles, let's look at what each side of the conflict was doing, what they are concerned about, and where they are on the board.  We'll then go into how the rest of the war played out, and its conclusion and aftermath.     Ohoama's Yoshino forces had largely been drawn from the countries in the east—the very same countries that Ohoama was denying to the Afumi court.  In response, the Afumi court had drawn their forces from where they could.  There were those that they had already called up under the pretense of building Naka no Oe's burial mound, but they had sent others out to raise troops in Yamato and out the western side of Honshu, all the way to Tsukushi—modern Kyushu.  However, not everyone in the Western region of the archipelago was friendly to the Afumi court—especially the regions of Kibi and Tsukushi.  This was significant.  Kibi was an ancient rival of Yamato, and likely could contribute a sizeable force.  Tsukushi, on the other hand, was quite large, and besides the conscripts from among the regular inhabitants, Tsukushi also was in charge of defending the archipelago from invasion—they were the first line of defense.  They had constructed numerous castles and fortifications to defend against a possible invasion, and those castles and fortifications were no doubt manned by troops that had been raised for that purpose.  If they could now be turned inwards, that could be enough to really turn the tide against Ohoama and his Yoshino army. The only problem was that neither Kibi nor Tsukushi were exactly sympathetic to the Afumi court.  The governor of Kibi and Prince Kurikuma, the viceroy of Tsukushi, both had ties to Ohoama, and the ministers suspected them of sympathizing with their Yoshino rivals.  As such the envoys that were sent out were authorized to take whatever drastic steps they felt necessary to secure the troops. So how did that all go down?  Well, last episode we talked about how Hodzumi no Momotari and his crew had been stopped from raising troops in Asuka by Ohotomo no Fukei, whose bluff of pretending to be Prince Takechi and a host of cavalry soldiers caused the conscripted troops to flee, and ended up in the death of Momotari and the capture of his compatriots. In Kibi, things took a turn in Afumi's favor.  When the Afumi government's envoy arrived at the government center in Kibi, he tricked the governor into taking off his sword.  Once he had done so, the envoy drew his own sword and killed the governor.  Without the governor to get in his way, the envoy then went about securing the land and troops for the Afumi court. Prince Kurikuma, the viceroy in Tsukushi, at the Dazaifu, was not quite so easily fooled, however.  Kurikuma knew how the court operated, and was apparently well informed of what was going on.  When the Afumi court's envoy met with Kurikuma, the Prince was flanked by two of his sons, Prince Mino and Prince Takebe, each one armed.  When Prince Kurikuma heard what the Afumi court wanted—for him to send the troops from Tsukushi to help quell Ohoama's rebellion—Kurikuma responded that he needed those troops to hold the border.  After all, the Tang dynasty was still a potential threat, and what good would it do to send the troops from the border regions to fight an internal war, only to then have an invader come in and destroy the state entirely?  No, he reasoned, he would not be sending the troops as the Afumi court requested. We are told that for a moment, the Afumi envoy thought about grabbing his sword and killing Prince Kurikuma, as the Afumi court had suggested, but with both of Kurikuma's sons armed on either side of him, he realized that he didn't have great odds, and so he eventually left, empty handed, but alive. This is significant.  While we don't know exact numbers, it is likely that there were quite a few troops stationed in Kyushu and the islands, all in case of foreign invasion.  By not supplying them to the Afumi court, Prince Kurikuma dealt a huge blow to the Afumi's ability to make war.  Add to that the fact that Ohoama had likewise blocked the court's access to the eastern countries, and that further narrowed the troops that Afumi had access to.  Nonetheless, they still had enough to be dangerous, and it is impossible to say exactly what might happen in a war. So we know where the Afumi and Yoshino forces ostensibly came from, but let's talk about the battlefield.  All of the fighting that we talk about was happening in an area between Naniwa—modern Ohosaka—and Fuwa, modern Sekigahara, northwest from the modern city of Nagoya. There are three main theaters we are talking about.  The first is in the Nara basin, which we talked about extensively in the last episode.  The Nara basin itself was not necessarily of the most strategic importance, militarily, but it was of huge symbolic importance.  After all, that was still the ancient capital, even though the governmental functions had been moved north, to Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa.  The second is in the Suzuka mountains.  This includes the areas of Iga and Kouka, and it is bordered by the Nara basin on the west, the Mie coastline on the east, and Afumi, the area around lake Biwa, to the north.  This is the same region that Ohoama had to naviagate through on his way from Yoshino to the east, and the mountains and valleys make it so that there are only so many traversable routes through.  For our narrative we are going to be primarily talking about the Kurafu Pass, between Kouka and Iga, at modern Tsuge city.  This pass  was an important route between Kouka, Iga, and Mie.  The road followed the Soma River which eventually flowed into Lake Biwa.  This made it a route out of Afumi, and if the Afumi forces could secure the Kurafu pass and the fields of Tara, just on the other side, they could split Ohoama's forces and cut off any help that he could possibly send to the Nara basin, and possibly even take Ohoama from behind. Finally, let's talk about our third theater:  Afumi itself.  Specifically, we are looking at the southern and eastern sides around Lake Biwa.  Biwa is the largest lake in Japan, and it is almost entirely surrounded by mountains except for where the Seta river flows south, eventually winding its way to Naniwa.  Today, the area of Afumi is largely co-located with modern Shiga Prefecture. Back in 668, after finding themselves on the losing side of the Baekje-Tang war, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, had moved the capital to Ohotsu, or Big Port, in Afumi, on the shores of Lake Biwa, likely for the protection it gave.  From Afumi, there were three major routes out of the basin, and a few minor ones.  All of them were through defensible mountain passes, like Karafu Pass, Fuwa Pass, and Suzuka Pass.  Three such passes:  Fuwa, Suzuka, and Arachi would become prominent barriers, or seki, along the ancient roads, and were known as the Sangen, or Three Barriers, protecting the capital region.  Suzuka no seki, at the pass of the same name, was in the south.  To reach it from Afumi, one crossed the Karafu pass, and then turned east through a pass near Mt. Miyama.  At the northern tip of the Suzuka mountains was Fuwa pass, future home of the Fuwa barrier.  The Barrier, or “Seki” would give its name to the area in another form:  Sekigahara.  This was along the Tousandou, the Eastern Mountain road, and even today it is the path through which roads and even the Shinkansen traverse between eastern and western Honshu.  Finally, though less important to our story, was the Arachi pass. Arachi no seki was part of the Hokurikudo, the Northern Land Route, and led to the ancient country of Kochi and the port of Tsuruga, which had a long history as an alternate port, especially for ships sailing from Goguryeo.  Later, Arachi no seki would be replaced in the Sangen ranking by another pass between Afumi and modern Kyoto, which would be known as the Afusaka, or Ohosaka, Pass.  This was the pass that would have been used to get to Yamashiro and, from there, to Naniwa and the Nara Basin. These three passes would come to define the island of Honshu, and became the dividing line between the Kanto region, in the east, and the Kansai region, in the west.  By holding the Suzuka and Fuwa passes, Ohoama effectively denied any travel to the eastern regions.  Sure, Afumi could have tried going through the Arachi pass and into Kochi, but then they would have had to traverse the Japan alps—no small feat, especially without modern conveniences like the trains and busses used today. From Fuwa Pass, where Ohoama and Prince Takechi had set up their headquarters, it was largely a straight shot to the Afumi capital of Ohotsu.  Between Lake Biwa and the Suzuka mountains is a wide, flat plain, divided primarily by the rivers and streams running out from the mountains into the lake.  Immediately west of Fuwa is the area of Maibara.  Following the shore of the lake one traverses through modern Hikone, to Yasu.  Yasu would also have been the location where the road to the Karafu pass broke off into the Suzuka mountains.  Beyond that was the bridge across the Seta River. The Seta river was one of the largest obstacles that would have to be negotiated, and the Afumi forces knew this.  Just as Ohoama would set up at Fuwa pass, a large number of the Afumi forces were set up on the western bank of the Seta river.  If the Yoshino forces could get across, however, it would mean that they had a more or less unimpeded route to the capital at Ohotsu. So now let's talk about what was happening in each of these places. Ohoama had set up at Fuwa—Sekigahara—and had begun to call soldiers to him.  Not only did did this allow him to block the rival Afumi troops from accessing the Eastern countries and possibly raising troops to use against him, but he was also able to maintain a line of communication with ancient Yamato, in the Nara Basin.  In order to keep his communication lines open, and to ensure that the Afumi forces couldn't sneak up behind him, Ohoama split his forces in two.  He knew that Afumi forces were trying to take his stronghold in Yamato, and if successful, from there they could move in to Uda and on to Iga.  thereafter that, they could march up behind him through the Suzuka pass.  Alternatively, the forces in Afumi could come up through Kouka and the Karafu pass, and then try to divide and conquer So the first group of Ohoama's army were to go south, through the Suzuka pass into their mountain namesake.  Once there, Oho no Omi no Honji was to hold Tarano, the Plain of Tara, where the routes to Suzuka, Kafuka, and Iga met.  Tanaka no Omi no Tarumaro went with him, with orders to guard the Kurafu pass, which is to say the road to Kouka.  This first group was headed by Ki no Omi no Abemaro, and also included Miwa no Kimi no Kobito, and Okizome no Muraji no Usagi.  Along with what we are told were tens of thousands of men, this first made their way south from Fuwa  through Mie and Ise and over the Suzuka pass.  Once there, they took up their positions at Karafu and Tarano.  It was a good thing, too, because only a couple of days after they arrived, the enemy struck.   Now as soon as he got there, Oho no Honji had fortified Tarano with some three thousand men, and Tanaka no  Tarumaro was sent to guard the Kurafu pass.  Prior to this, Tarumaro had been the official in charge of the Hot Springs in Ise, but he had joined Ohoama and the Yoshino forces when they first arrived over the Suzuka Pass.  Now he was in charge of a military force, encamped along the road through the Kurafu pass, waiting for the enemy. Unbeknownst to him, a deputy commander of the Afumi forces, Tanabe no Wosumi, was approaching from Mt. Kafuka.  Presumably he'd been sent out from Ohotsu and had followed the road along the Yasu and Soma rivers towards the pass.  Wosumi had  sizeable force with him, but he was not looking for a direct assault.  Even if he would win, he would suffer casualties, especially trying to attack an entrenched enemy in a fortified position.  He needed to be sneaky.  He had no way of knowing that, centuries later, the lands of Iga and Kouka would be known for their sneaky warriors—their legendary ninja—but I digressed.  What Wosumi did was this.  First, he rolled up his banners and muffled the drums.  He even had his men gag themselves—a continental custom where soldiers were given a stick to hold in their mouth, like a horse's bit, to discourage any talking amongst the ranks as they approached.  Presumably, they kept them in until just before attacking, because they also devised a watchword “kane”—transcribed as metal or gold.  Wosumi knew that it would be hard enough to tell who was who in the daytime—after all, it wasn't like these were regimented forces with uniforms.  The soldiers were likely all wearing whatever they had available, and clothing and armor would have been similar across the two armies.  At night, even some kind of mark or flag would hardly be enough to tell who was who in the dark.  As lines broke and melee ensued, it would be easy to get turned around, and find yourself facing a friend.  By saying the watchword you could distinguish friend from foe. Sure enough, this tactic worked.  The Afumi forces broke through the Yoshino fortifications in the middle of the night and swarmed into the encampment.  Men who had been asleep were waking up to chaos.  Tarumaro's Yoshino soldiers were thrown into confusion.  Tarumaro himself, escaped, but just barely.  we are told that he noticed that the enemy kept shouting the word “kane”, and so he started doing it as well. The Afumi forces, assuming he was one of their own, left him alone.  Still, he only escaped with difficulty. His escape was no doubt critical, however.   He presumably would have headed to Tarano to try and warn Oho no Honji, but this may not have been possible, as we are told that on the following day, after the attack at Karafu pass, the Afumi commander Wosumi continued his advance, and came upon the Yoshino encampment at Tarano unexpectedly.  Still, General Honji did not back down.  With a force of hand-picked soldiers, Honji counterattacked against Wosumi and struck him.  We are told that Wosumi made it out—the only one who did—but that he did not try and make another attack.  The Yoshino forces would ultimately hold the pass and the critical juncture of Tarano.  The Afumi forces would not get a second chance. By the way, a quick note here:  I can't help but notice a bit of a trope showing up in these stories:  At Narayama, General Fukei is defeated, and is the only person who makes his escape.  Then Tarumaro is the only person to escape his defeat.  Finally, Wosumi is the only one of his forces to leave the plain of Tara. I am more than a little incredulous that these generals are the only ones who actually survived, and that the rest of the army was slaughtered.  In fact, you may recall that at the battle at Taima, General Fukei told his men not to pursue the fleeing common soldiers.  As I've tried to point out, the common soldiers were not likely as invested in the cause.  In fact, it is just as possible that the common soldiers may have changed sides and joined the other army if they thought it would serve them well.  Or maybe they were escaping and just blending into the countryside.  After all, the elites weren't really spending the time to get to know them, let along record any details about them.  So I suspect that it was more about the fact that the various armies would be broken, and the soldiers flung to the four corners, rather than that they were necessarily slaughtered.  After all, if you had the choice, would you have stayed there? A few days after Wosumi was defeated, the Yoshino general that Ohoama had sent to Iga along with Honji and Tarumaro, Ki no Omi no Abemaro, heard that their ally, Ohotomo no Fukei was in trouble in the Nara Basin.  He'd been defeated by the Afumi general Ohono no Hatayasu at Narayama,  and without reinforcements, the entire Nara Basin could fall, along with the ancient Yamato capital at Asuka. So Abemaro sent Okizome no Muraji no Usagi with more than a thousand cavalry to go assist.  They met Fukei at Sumizaka, and suddenly, things were looking up in the Nara Basin.  For more on how that turned out, check out last episode, where we covered the events in the Nara Basin. Once the events in the Nara Basin settled out, then both the Nara Basin and the Karafu pass would be well and truly in the hands of the Yoshino forces.  But there was no way for those guarding those locations to know that the fighting was over, and they would have to hold their positions until the fighting had definitively stopped.  Which brings us back to Ohoama and the Yoshino troops gathered at Fuwa, where things were about to kick off as well.  The troops at Fuwa, while being led by Ohoama and his 19 year old son, Takechi, were placed under the command of Murakuni no Muraji no Woyori—who, , as things progressed, would be noted as the primary general for the campaign that would lead Yoshino troops from Fuwa, on the offensive towards Ohotsu. The only reason that they seem to have waited before going on the offensive was that every day, more troops were coming in.  So even as the fighting was going on in Nara and at the Karafu pass, the Yoshino army at Fuwa gathered men and made their preparations.  As they did so, the Afumi court Was going to do whatever they could to try and break them, hoping that they could stop the threat posed by Ohoama and his men before they began their march. For the Afumi forces first attempt to break the Yoshino defenses at Fuwa pass, they picked troops to try and make an incursion into the village of Tamakurabe, which appears to have been in the pass itself; it was probably modern Tama district of Sekigahara.  They were repelled, however, by Izumo no Omi no Koma, who drove them off. Later, the Afumi court ordered another force of several tens of thousands of men to attack under the command of Prince Yamabe no Ou, Soga no Omi no Hatayasu, and Kose no Omi no Hito.  Soga no Hatayasu and Kose no Hito were both part of the inner circle of the Afumi court, or so it would seem.  When Prince Ohotomo had taken the reins of the government in a ceremony in the Western Hall of the Palace, he was attended by the ministers of the right and left, as well as Soga no Hatayasu, Kose no Hito, and Ki no Ushi.  They were at the very heart of this whole matter.  Prince Yamabe is a little bit more of a mystery.  We know he was someone of note, and when Prince Ohotsu was brought to his parents, they were apparently traveling under the guise of Prince Yamabe and another prince, Prince Ishikawa.  But we know little else. The three men and their Afumi troops headed out and camped on the bank of the Inukami river, near modern Hikone.  There, however, trouble broke out. The Nihon Shoki does not record exactly what it was, but there must have been some kind of falling out.  Prince Yamabe no Ou was killed by Soga no Hatayasu and Kose no Hito.  We don't know if this was due to some quarrel or what, but either way, it threw the army into a state of disarray and there was no way for them to move forward.  Soga no Hatayasu appears to have taken responsibility for whatever happened, as he headed back from Inukami, presumably back to Ohotsu, where he took his own life by stabbing himself in the throat.  There would be no attack on Fuwa Pass, however. Finally, the Nihon Shoki also recounts the story of another Afumi general, named Hata no Kimi no Yakuni, and his son, Ushi.  Together with others, who remain unnamed, they surrendered themselves to Ohoama and the Yoshino forces, rather than fighting.  It isn't clear if they were deserters, if they had been part of one of the other two attempts to take Fuwa Pass, or if there was something else going on.  Either way, Ohoama was so pleased that he welcomed them in and we are told that Hata no Yakuni was “granted a battle axe and halberd” and appointed a general.  This is probably stock phrasing, but it does seem he was given some measure of trust.  Yakuni's men were then sent north, to Koshi. We aren't quite sure what those forces' ultimate objective was.  It may have been that he was to take the northern pass and make sure that none of the Afumi troops tried to escape and head to the East along that road.  Many of the accounts of this war seem to suggest that he, or at least some part of the forces, were to head north and then come around Lake Biwa the long way.  This would mean that if Ohoama attacked, there would be no easy way to flee.  From Ohotsu they couldn't turn north without running into more troops, and their only escape would seem to be through the Afusaka pass towards the area of modern Kyoto.  And of course, whoever was victorious in the Nara Basin would then be able to control the route to the coast. It is unclear how much Ohoama could have actually known, though, about what was happening across the various distances.  Messages would have meant riders on swift horses carrying them; they couldn't just text each other what was going on. And so, with one attack repelled, another aborted, and a turncoat now on their side, Ohoama's Yoshino forces were finally ready to head out on the offensive themselves.  According to the Nihon Shoki this was on the 7th day of the 7th month—Tanabata, today, but I doubt people were paying much mind to the Weaver and the Cowherd.  Murakuni no Woyori, with the group advancing from Fuwa to Afumi, set out, and met with their first resistance at the Yokugawa river in Okinaga.  As far as I can tell, this is likely the Amano River in modern Maibara, which anyone who takes the Shinkansen between Kanto and Kansai probably recognizes as one of the usual stops.  Once again, we have a situation where, while they would have had banners flying, in the crush of battle it could be quite easy to mistake friend for foe, especially with large numbers of troops who were pulled from vastly different regions.  You had to have some way of knowing quickly who was on your side – that's why the Afumi commander Wosumi had his troops use the password “kane”, for example.  Ohoama's approach was to have his men place a red mark—possibly a ribbon or similar—on their clothing so that one could tell who, at a glance, was on their side.  As a note, later samurai would sometimes attach flags to their shoulder armor, or sode, and these “sode-jirushi” would help identify you even if people didn't recognize your armor.  Ohoama's troops may have used something similar. And so Woyori's Yoshino forces attacked the Afumi defenders, and the Afumi troops were clearly outmatched.  Woyori's men killed the Afumi commander and defeated the opposing forces. But that was just the beginning.  Afumi forces had been stationed all along the route from Fuwa to Ohotsu.  Thus it was that only two days later Woyori and his men made it to Mt. Tokoyama, probably in Hikone, by the Seri river.  There they met more Afumi soldiers, but once again they were triumphant and slew the opposing commander.   Woyori and his men were on a roll. I would point out that these battles aren't given much detail, but we do see how it progressed.  There are names of various individuals and commanders—certainly not much on the common people.  From what we can tell, this was not a rush to Ohotsu, but rather a slow march, probably doing their best to fortify their positions and make sure that nobody was sneaking up on them.  After each battle, it is some days before the next, probably spent spying out ahead and formulating plans. Woyori and his men next fought a battle on the banks of the Yasukawa River, presumably near modern Yasu city.  Here, Aston's translation claims that he suffered a great defeat, but more likely I suspect it means to say that he inflicted a great defeat on the Afumi forces, because if he had been defeated, how would he have pressed on only a few days later.  We are told that  two men, presumably the Afumi commanders, were both taken prisoner. Since we don't have anything more about them in the narrative all we can really do is assume that they must have therefore been on the side of the Afumi forces. By taking Yasu, that would have likely cut off the Afumi forces from any future considerations about using the Kurafu Pass.  The noose around Ohotsu was slowly tightening. Four days after that, on the 17th day of the 7th month, Woyori attacked and repulsed the Kurimoto army—presumably a force loyal to the Afumi court under a general named Kurimoto, or possibly raised from a place called Kurimoto, perhaps over on Awaji.  Either way, it was another victory on Woyori's belt. From there, Woyori and his men arrived at Seta, where they would have to cross the Setagawa—the Seta River. The Seta River is a wide river, and the only one flowing out of Lake Biwa.  It winds its way south and west, eventually becoming the Uji and then the Yodo rivers, which flow all the way to Naniwa—modern Ohosaka.  At the Seta river, there was a major bridge, the only way across, other than to swim.  Prince Ohotomo and his ministers, along with their entire army, were encamped on the west side of the bridge.  Their forces were so numerous that it was said you could not see all the way to the back of them.  Their banners covered the plain, and the dust of their movement caused a cloud to rise into the sky.  Their drums and songs could be heard for miles around.  We are told they even had crossbows, and when they were discharged the arrows fell like rain.  Of course, some of this may have just been more poetic license by the authors of the Nihon Shoki, but you get the picture:  There were a lot of troops on the western side of the river. The bridge itself was defended by General Chison.  We know very little of this general, as he only appears in this one part of the record, but his name implies that he may have been from the continent.  We aren't given a surname, and it is possible he was one of the Baekje refugees, now fighting for the Afumi court.  He led an advance body of specially selected troops, and in the middle of the bridge they had removed planks for about three rods or thirty feet.  Across that span was a single plank, daring anyone to try and cross it.  Of course, if they did, they would be a sitting duck in front of the enemy archers, and the plank was attached by a rope so that it could always be pulled out from under them.  It seemed as if it were impossible to advance. Finally, one of Woyori's soldiers, Ohokida no Kimi no Wakaomi, got up the courage to cross.  We are told that he put on double armor, put down his long spear, and drew his sword.  He then charged suddenly across the plank and cut the rope on the other side before the Afumi troops could pull it back.  In spite of the arrows that were raining down on him, he entered the ranks of the Afumi troops, slashing with his sword as he went.  The Afumi forces were thrown into confusion and some of them tried to leave, but General Chison drew his own sword and began to cut down anyone who tried to flee.  Still, he was unable to check the rout.  Woyori's troops secured the bridge and soon were pouring across it.  They cut down General Chison and advanced into the Afumi army, who broke and ran.  The Afumi sovereign, Ohotomo, aka Koubun Tennou, along with the Ministers of the Left and Right, narrowly escaped with their lives. Woyori and his troops marched to the foot of Awazu hill, and we are told that Hata no Yakuni, the Afumi commander who had earlier defected, and whose men were sent north to Koshi, set a siege to Miwo castle along with Izumo no Koma, who had defended against the attempted seizure of Tamakurabe.  Presumably this is Mio, south of Ohotsu, and it was likely guarding the southern approach to the Afumi capital. The only thing here that gives me pause is that we were earlier told that Yakuni's men, after he defected, were sent to Koshi.  So was Yakuni not with them?  Had he returned?  Or had the troops made it all the way around Lake Biwa already, taking the longer route up and around the lake? Regardless of how it happened, Yakuni and Koma were able to take Miwo castle.  As a reminder, a “castle” at this time would have likely been defined more by its walls, which were probably rammed earth and wood—not the elegantly sloping stone walls and  donjon base that would come to typify castles of the Warring States period. The following day, Woyori and his men continued their pursuit.  At the Awazu marketplace, Woyori ran into the Afumi generals Inukahi no Muraji no Isokimi and Hasama no Atahe no Shihote.  We mentioned Isokimi last episode—he was the Afumi commander attacking the Middle Road in the Nara Basin.  His deputy, Kujira, had been defeated, and it seems Isokimi had retreated back to Afumi and rejoined the main force. He would not be quite so fortunate this time.  Isokimi and Shihote were both slain, and Ohotomo fled once again.  He didn't get very far, hiding at Yamazaki, thought to be near the site of the modern city hall, in Ohotsu. Despite his best efforts, he knew he would be discovered, and he eventually strangled himself, rather than facing the humiliation and punishment that would come with capture. With Ohotomo dead, the other ministers of the Afumi court dispersed and fled.  Woyori and his men, meeting up at Sasanami, hunted down the Ministers of the Left and Right—Soga no Akaye and Nakatomi no Kane—as well as others who had fought with Ohotomo and who were considered criminals. They were all marched back to Fuwa, where, on the 25th day of the 7th month, Ohotomo's head was presented to Ohoama.  The war, it seems, was over. Or at least, the fighting was over.  There was still a lot to be settled.  First off, it would hardly have been practical to wipe out every single person on the losing side.  For one thing, that would have devastated the Court even further, likely creating a huge power vacuum.  In addition, many of the supporters on both sides were not necessarily there out of purely partisan reasons.  I would point out that many of the family names that we see in the record are found on both sides of the conflict.  Inukahi no Isokimi may have fought for Ohotomo, but we also see an Inukahi no Ohotomo fighting on the behalf of Ohoama.  Fumi no Nemaro was a major commander in Ohoama's army, while Fumi no Kusuri had been sent by the Afumi court to raise troops in the East Country.  And Hasama no Shihote was killed with Isokimi at Awazu, while a Hasama no Nemaro was working under the command of General Fukei, in Nara, to guard Tatsuta. There wasn't necessarily a simple divide along family lines.  It is possible that these individuals were all fairly well removed from each other, and from different parts of their respective families, or clans. They are often given different kabane, the family rank system used at this time, though I suspect that may have more to do with later changes, with those on the winning side being promoted over those who supported the Afumi court.  However, it is also the case that Japan has a long history of family members supporting both sides in any major conflict.  That way, no matter who wins, the family itself finds itself on the winning side. But there did have to be some accountability.  This is something that one can point to time and again—if the losing side is not held accountable for their actions, then what is to prevent them from just regrouping and trying again?  And yet that need for justice and punishment must be tempered with some amount of humanity. Ultimately, about one month after the end of the war, eight of the Afumi ministers were found guilty of truly heinous offences and they were condemned to suffer what the Nihon Shoki says was the “Extreme Penalty”.  The Minister of the Right, Nakatomi no Kane, was executed at Tane, in Asai.  Meanwhile the Minister of the Left, Soga no Akaye; along with the Dainagon, or Grand Councillor, Kose no Hito, as well as their children and grandchildren, along with the children of the late Nakatomi no Kane and Soga no Hatayasu, were all sent into banishment.  All others were pardoned. And of course those who had supported Ohoama, and who had come to his aid, were given public favour and reward.  In many cases this likely meant receiving high office and corresponding rank, along with increased stipend payments.  There is a notable shift in the makeup of the court, going forward, and it seems clear that families would want to associate themselves with those who fought on Ohoama's side, rather than Ohotomo's, if they could help it.  That was no doubt a part of works like the various diaries and house records that would have been used to compile the Nihon Shoki, recording the deeds that any house did for the throne. Along with all of the punishments and plaudits that were meted out in the 8th month of 672, there was one more event—something of an outlier.  We are told that Chihisakobe no Muraji no Sabichi, the governor of the province of Wohari, went off into the mountains and committed suicide. Sabichi had originally met Ohoama at the Kuwana district house—the local government office—when he had first arrived from Yoshino.  He had a large number of troops—20,000 by the Nihon Shoki's count—which helped Ohoama to ultimately defeat the Afumi court.  So why he would go off into the mountains and commit suicide was anyone's guess.  The Nihon Shoki suggests that it was possible that his allegiance had changed, and he may have been trying to plot against Ohoama.  Perhaps he had been convinced that Afumi court was going to come out on top, and so had begun some plot.  Or he just had a falling out or became disillusioned for some reason.  Whatever it was, it remains a mystery, even today. With the war concluded, it was time for Ohoama to make his way from the field to the Capital so that he could transition to ruling the State properly.  But Ohoama was not interested, it would seem, in setting himself up in his brother's capital.  Setting up in the Ohotsu capital may have raised a few eyebrows.  It had not been a completely popular move to begin with, and it was also the home of the Afumi court's legitimacy.  To take up the throne there, I can only imagine that it would have further reinforced the idea that Ohoama was the usurper, taking the throne that was meant for his nephew.  Instead, he made the decision to travel to the ancient capital, in Asuka, but he was not in a hurry. They headed out on the 8th day of the 9th month of 672, making it from Fuwa to Kuwana.  Here he likely met up with his wife, Princess Uno, and his ten year old son, Prince Ohotsu.  The following day they headed out, traveling back along the route that they had taken from Yoshino, but at a much more leisurely route.  The royal carriage stayed the night in Suzuka.  From there, it was another day to Abe, likely referring to modern Ahai county, in Iga, near Ueno city.  They then continued on to Nabari.  Finally, on the 12th day,they arrived at the Yamato capital—that is to say Asuka—and Ohoama took up residence for a time at the Shima Palace.  This was only, it seems, to give people time to get the actual palace ready, because three days later, Ohoama moved into the Wokamoto Palace.  And with that, Ohoama began the work of running the state—but there was still plenty to prepare.  For one thing, there were foreign embassies—Kim Ap-sil and others arrived.  It was still going to take a while to get the capital ready for guests, though.  From what we can tell, they were probably building a grand new palace, and it would take some time for it to be prepared.  So the Silla embassy was entertained in Tsukushi, where Prince Kurikuma would have been in charge of hosting them.  They were likely filled on the new developments and provided a ship. Meanwhile, Ohoama made sure that all of the appropriate rewards were given out.  On the 4th day of the 12th month, we are told that all those who had rendered services were given higher cap-ranks, based on what they had done. And as the year 672 closes out—and with it, the first of the two Chronicles for Ohoama, the soon-to-be elevated Temmu Tennou. But there is one final entry, marking the death of Wina no Kimi no Takami in the 12th month of the year.  We know that Wina no Kimi no *Iwasuki* was working for the Afumi court, sent to rally troops in the East, but he fled when they encountered Ohoama's troops at Fuwa Pass.  Takami, on the other hand, we know little about, but I suspect may have been on the side of Ohoama.  It is an odd entry, and, like so many, unexplained.  Perhaps it meant something to the people of the early 8th century, but if so, that meaning is likely lost to us. And so we close the book on the Jinshin no Ran—the Jinshin War, or possibly the Disturbance or even Rebellion, depending on how you feel about it.  This account is one of the most detailed we have of this kind of event, and yet it does not seem that it was entirely unique.  There are plenty of indications that previous sovereigns had to fight their way to the throne, or else had to repel others who would try to take it by force.  This was almost a tradition among the royal house of Yamato.  But now that the matter of succession was well and truly settled, it was time to get on with other things. Who knows what an Afumi court may have done and how they could have changed things.  What we do know is what Ohoama—and his queen, Uno no Himemiko—did.  They built upon, or in some cases possibly even fabricated, the legacy of Naka no Oe.  They would set in stone many of the things that had been put in place, and at the same time make certain changes, as well.  The Yamato state was getting started. And we'll start to dive into that next episode.  Until then, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

In this third installment of our series on the Jinshin no Ran, we are covering the battles that took place in the Nara basin.   Of course, while the fighting focuses on the generals, most of it was done by conscripts--farmers and other common people called up to fight. For more, check out of podcast webpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-131   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 131: The Jinshin no Ran, Part 3: Fighting in the Nara Basin   Maro stood under the tsuki tree and gazed at the walls of the great temple.  The gates and tiled roof were truly an incredible sight.  Maro's home wasn't that far away, but until he'd been called up for service to the government, he hadn't thought much beyond the valley where he and his family tilled the land.  Their life had been largely spent in the village, tucked up in the valley, farming rice, hunting in the mountains, and gathering firewood.   He remembered how, years ago, his brothers had been the ones to go and do their service.  They had been called up to build some kind of giant fortress on the top of a mountain.  The stories they  brought back were incredible—it was one thing to hear tales of the outside world from merchants and itinerant priests, but it was different to hear them from someone you actually knew.  Now, it was Maro's turn.  But he hadn't been called up for labor—he was going to have to fight.  He tried to psych himself up.  Many of the men and, frankly, young boys who were there with him were in a similar boat.  Some were old hands, having served multiple times.  Others were new and, like Maro, there for the first time.  None of them were professional soldiers, though you wouldn't know that by the way some of them swaggered through the camp.  They had been called up quickly, with only a little information.  Apparently Prince Ohoama, they were told, had rebelled against the government.  He and his men were gathering in the east and at any moment they could attack the capital in Ohotsu, and from there they would swing down and attack the ancient capital.  So here they were, several hundred conscripts, pulled from households around the ancient capital, gathered and waiting for their weapons and armor so that they could then get their marching orders—quite literally. Suddenly, Maro heard a commotion in the north.  He couldn't see what was happening, but the murmurs turned to shouting.  Prince Takechi, the son of the demonic rebel, Ohoama, was here, coming from the north with hundreds of expert soldiers on horseback!  Panic set in, and even though a few of the officers tried to quell the disturbance, it wasn't enough.  Afraid for what might come, Maro and those like him broke ranks and fled.  Maro gave little thought to what might happen to his family and friends if he deserted—he was no longer thinking rationally.  Along with his compatriots—his would-be brothers-in-arms if they had been given any—he hoped that he could hide, and that, if he survived, maybe, just maybe, he could somehow make it back home in one piece.   Welcome back.  Content warning for this episode—we are going to be talking about war, including death, fighting, and suicide. As I noted at the start, this is part three of our look at the Jinshin no Ran, the Jinshin War—sometimes translated as a “Disturbance” or a “Rebellion”.  This was the war between the supporters of Prince Ohoama, also known as Temmu, and Prince Ohotomo, aka Koubun.  Ohoama's side is sometimes called the Yoshino or even the Yamato court, as he had quote-unquote “retired” from the world and become a monk at a temple in Yoshino, south of Asuka, in the old area of Yamato.  Meanwhile, Ohotomo's supporters were the Afumi court—including most of the ministers running the state from the capital in Ohotsu, on the shores of lake Biwa, the area known as Afumi.  So let's take a look at what has happened so far, and then we can get into the events we are talking about today: a look at the soldiers who were fighting, their gear, and then some of the fighting that went on—specifically the fighting that happened in the Nara Basin.  I'll do my best to organize things based on the rough timeline that they seem to have occurred. Now previously, we had covered how Ohoama, brother to Naka no Oe aka Tenchi Tennou, had given up his title as Crown Prince and retired, supposedly to prevent any concerns that he might rebel and try to take the throne, but this wasn't enough for Ohotomo and the Court, who had begun to raise forces against him.  And so Ohoama and his supporters had just made a desperate dash eastwards, across the mountain roads to Ise.  From there they secured the Fuwa and Suzuka passes, two of the main routes to the East Countries.  Ohoama had then sent out requests for assistance to those same countries, hoping to find allies who would support him against the apparently legitimate government in Ohotsu. We are told that Ohoama was joined at this time by two of his sons: Prince Takechi and Prince Ohotsu. And here I want to pause to note something that I didn't point out last episode: These princes were not quite as old as you might think from the way they are portrayed in the Chronicle.  Prince Takechi, who had been given command of the troops at Fuwa Barrier, was only 19 years old.  Granted, that is only 4 years younger than their rival, Prince Ohotomo, and only a couple of years younger than the famous Minamoto Yoshitsune would be when he joined his brother in the Genpei Wars, over 500 years later.  Prince Ohotsu, however, was a bit younger, as he is believed to have been about 10 years old at this time, which likely explains why he is not so prominent in the narrative.  I mention this because the Nihon Shoki often omits details like age and can make it seem like these were all seasoned adult men and women, when it may have been that they were simply of high enough status to be mentioned, even though others were likely running their affairs for them.  In Prince Takechi's case, while he was likely old enough to take charge of the forces at Fuwa, it is also clear that his father was nearby and overseeing things, so everything didn't rest solely on his son's shoulders. Meanwhile, the Afumi court was raising its own soldiers.  While their delegation to the East was stopped at the captured Fuwa Pass, they also had sent word to the west.  Kibi and Tsukushi are specifically mentioned, but we know that they were raising troops elsewhere, including in the home province regions of Yamato and Kawachi. Here it should be noted that the Nihon Shoki is pretty clearly pro-Temmu, in other words pro-Ohoama.  There is some evidence from textual analysis, however, that the Temmu portions of the narrative differ from the Tenchi portions.  Torquil Duthie, in his book, “Man'yōshū and the Imperial Imagination in Early Japan”, recounts how scholarship has identified at least two—possibly three—different groups of compilers who managed different reigns.  The Tenchi narrative is more neutral, while the Temmu narrative provides a bit more of an accusatory tone, and both narratives provide slightly different accounts of the same events—notably the death of Naka no Oe, Prince Ohoama taking vows, and Prince Ohotomo succeeding his father.  On the other side, Duthie mentions  the Kaifusou, a collection of Sinitic style poetry created in 751, just 31 years after the Nihon Shoki, where in the introduction, the author seems to be much more sympathetic to Prince Ohotomo and his cause, implying that Oama was the one rising up against the legitimate government. I mention this just to help us remember that our primary source is not exactly neutral about all of this, and we should keep that in mind as we are trying to sort out what was going on.  The narrative also often makes it seem as though the outcome was inevitable, but we should remember that at the time all of these events were going down, the people involved couldn't have known how they were going to turn out— in the moment, anything could have happened, especially in times of war. Speaking of which, we know that the two sides were raising troops, so let's talk about what we know about those troops and what combat may have looked like at this time.  While we don't exactly have detailed accounts, there is a lot we can piece together through the archaeological record and other sources.  To that end we have evidence of armor and weapons, as well as shields, and we can also look at haniwa through the 6th and even early 7th century to give us an idea of local armor styles.  Let's first look back on how soldiers were conscripted.  Each household seems to have been responsible for supplying a soldier, when required.  They were also to supply their equipment.  This included a sword, armor, bows and arrows, as well as a flag and drum. In historical parades, today, we often see row upon row of soldiers kitted out in matching clothing, appearing relatively cohesive and well-regimented.  In truth it is hard to know just how similar any one group might have been.  Based on later historical examples, it is safe to assume that many of the soldiers may not have had much armor, if any, and even if they did it might have been made of wood or leather, which were unlikely to survive to the modern day. Of course, I would also question just how often they were able to afford everything mentioned.  And since we are told that as the government was gathering soldiers it was also opening up storehouses of weapons and armor, I suspect that indicates that not everyone had their own.  And even if they did, it may have been of questionable quality. That said, if a warrior did have armor, it was likely one of two types, variations of which were both found on the continent. The first type is characterized by a solid, circular cuirass, often called a “tankou”, or short armor.  These were made of strips of iron that were shaped on a wooden form and then riveted or tied together into a solid cuirass, which is why it is also called a type of “plate” armor.  One side of the armor was hinged and could open so that the wearer could get in.  There are some tankou with a hanging skirt of tassets that flare out as well, protecting the legs, and even examples of pieces that also go around the neck, shoulder guards, and arm guards.  The tankou seems to date from at least the 3rd or 4th century, with changes in design over time, and we know that it continued through at least the 6th century. Compare this to the keikou, or hanging armor.  Keikou was a kind of lamellar armor, made of individual scales, later known as “sane”.  These metal scales, also known as lamellae, were held together with lacing, and made for a much more flexible, and presumably comfortable, armor.  The tradeoff for this comfort was that keikou likely took a lot more labor to make, and thus were considered a more elite armor, possibly used by men on horseback or at least by those leading the troops.  Looking into the future a bit, we know that in the 8th century there were “tankou” and “keikou” being donated to the Shousouin repository at Toudaiji.  However, it isn't clear that “tankou” and “keikou” in the 8th century referred to exactly this kind of armor, and we may have been dealing with something else entirely, because there is a lacuna in our understanding of armor on the archipelago between the end of the Asuka period and the appearance of the more familiar yoroi in the Heian period comes about.  There are conjectured transitional armors, based on continental models, which are thought to have been used.  Still, at this very point in time, when Ohoama is mounting his rebellion against Ohotomo, the Keikou and Tankou are generally thought to have still been in use, and this is generally how you will see the two sides represented. As for weapons, perhaps the most common that we see is the bow and arrow.  Archery is extremely practical, not only for its ability to be used from a distance, but also because in times of peace people can use the same bows to hunt, thus making hunting prowess a kind of stand-in for military prowess.  The way of the bow—in fact the way of the horse and bow, or Kyuuba no Michi—would be the main pillar of martial prowess in the archipelago for centuries.  The iconic sword, while important—it was, after all, one of the three sacred regalia—was more of a side-arm, deployed in close quarters combat.  It was still important, as it could be easily carried with you.  However, it is more likely that massed troops might have had spears and various types of polearms, providing reach.  Those are harder to just casually carry around, however, especially if you are mainly using a bow.  Perhaps that is part of the reason that we don't hear as much about such weapons, and most of the focus seems to be on the archers and on swords. There were also at this time shields.  We know that the Hayato of southern Kyushu were particularly known for them, but there evidence that they were more widely used.  After all, a shield made of wood would have made an important defense against a rain of arrows coming from the enemy. As for the horses, some of them may have even had their own barding, or armor, though I suspect, again, that was rare, and reserved for elites.  All of this together gives us some idea of what it may have looked like when Ohoama and Ohotomo's forces engaged in battle, though it is still conjecture.  We know that they had spears, and swords, and bows.  We know that some of the first men that Prince Ohoama picked up on his journey was to conscript archers to his service, who then were pressed into taking a government post station.    We also don't necessarily see a lot of individual fighting described in the records, though there are exceptions. Later on, there was a tradition of individual warriors calling out challenges in the midst of battle, that became an accepted practice in the early culture of the bushi, or samurai, but we don't see that in the Chronicles.    Certainly we see moments of individual valor which are remembered, likely because of the benefits that the hero's descendants could then claim for themselves.   But for the most part it seems that the people actually doing the fighting were groups of conscripted soldiers, not the hired warriors of later periods.  Even among groups like the Mononobe, the Be of the Warriors, it isn't clear that they would have been the ones on the front lines—not if they could help it, anyway.  Most of these were farmers and similar commoners, who were called up to fight as necessary.  Some of them may have seen action over on the Korean peninsula, or even in local skirmishes.  Others would have been fresh out of the fields, joining the ranks for the first time.  They were not exactly volunteers, but also didn't have much of a choice.  It was the draft on steroids. I also suspect that the act of conscription, where a soldier was offered up by a household, or family,, meant that desertion would mean that their family would be punished. While the elite generals providing the men were no doubt gauging how this would affect their own political and economic fortunes, I imagine that the average soldier had much less agency and could look forward to many fewer rewards.  In fact, I suspect his main goal would have been one of survival.  Perhaps if one fought well, they could earn something more for themselves, and perhaps there were cultural concepts of loyalty to one's local elites and leadership.  And maybe there were leaders who inspired them to do great things.  However, works like the Nihon Shoki were rarely concerned with the lives of the common people, except when it shined a light on the sovereigns and their court.   It was much more concerned with how this affected the upper caste of society. There is also the question about just what kind of fighting this system led to.  Again, these are not the bushi—a warrior class who prided themselves on their martial prowess.  And neither were they standing armies.  While there were likely some who regularly served and trained and found they had a skill at war, how many were simple farmers who were now holding a spear instead of a spade?  These are things to keep in mind as we follow along with tales of glorious victory or ignoble defeat. So, that's a glimpse at who was actually doing the fighting.  As for the timeline of the battle, let's get into it.  But first, a caveat:  as we should be used to by now, the exact chronology of the events listed in the Nihon Shoki is not entirely clear.  The Nihon Shoki provides a narrative, but often it includes actions that took several days or even weeks on a single date where the events apparently culminated.  Using cues, such as “one day later” or such things, we can piece together a narrative, but I may not have it 100% accurate.  It doesn't help that the Nihon Shoki seems to focus on different campaigns separately, even though much of it was happening at the same time.  That's compounded by the fact that all of this was being recorded much later, and so there is also a great possibility that even some of the seemingly clear dates were also wrong, or were adjusted to make for a better flow in the narrative.  So I'm going to do my best to piece together what I roughly feel was the chronological order, but just be aware that dates may not be all that precise.    In the coming conflict we see several main arenas.  First, there is the area around Lake Biwa, from the Fuwa pass towards Ohotsu.  This was Ohoama's main path to try and put an end to this whole affair—to make his way to Ohotsu, the capital, and cut off the head of the snake.  To do that he would have to leave his defensive position and venture out around the lake, where Afumi forces no doubt lay in wait.  At the same time, there was also fierce fighting in the Nara Basin, with Yoshino and Afumi forces clashing there across the plains.  And we cannot forget the Kafuka, or Kouka, pass over to Suzuka.  If the Afumi forces could push through to Suzuka, then they could march along the coastal plains of Mie up through Owari and come at Ohoama's forces from behind. In previous episodes we covered the leadup to this part of the conflict, and while there had been some fighting at the post stations on the road to Suzuka, as well as captured envoys at Fuwa Pass, so far we haven't seen any major fighting.  If the timeline in the Nihon Shoki is to be believed, the first serious clashes seem to have occurred in the Yamato region and the Nara basin. In general, however, there seems to have been two main campaigns.  There was the fighting in the Nara Basin, and then there was the fighting along the shores of Lake Biwa. Everything started off at the end of the 6th month with Ohoama's mad dash to capture the passes at Suzuka and Fuwa, where he waited while he gathered up men from the Eastern countries.  While that was happening, the Afumi court was out recruiting men for their own war.  This would lead to some of the earliest formal battles between the two sides taking place in the Nara Basin, originally a recruitment center, it turned into a battle zone.  Yoshino aligned forces would push north, only to be blocked by armies coming down from the capital at Ohotsu, as well as forces coming through the gap between Yamato and Kawachi, where the Yamato river leaves the basin through the western mountains.  The fighting happened largely over the course of a week or so.  It started around the 29th day of the 6th month, and seems to have ended between the 4th or 6th day of the 7th month.  So keep that in mind. As you may recall from last episode, two brothers, Ohotomo no Muraji no Makuda and Ohotomo no Muraji no Fukei, upon hearing that Ohoama was rising up, both feigned illness, using that as an excuse to leave the court at Ohotsu and return to their family compounds in the Yamato region.  From there, Makuda made haste to catch up with Ohoama and his men, but his brother, Fukei, stayed behind to see what he could do in Yamato. Originally, Fukei's success was limited.  He started calling various allied families together and tried to drum up support for Ohoama, but he could only gather a few tens of men.  Not the hundreds, let alone thousands, that would be needed.  At the same time, the Afumi court was conscripting men of the Yamato region into service.  This was being organized by Hodzumi no Obito no Momotari and his younger brother, Hodzumi no Obito no Ihoye, along with Mononobe no Obito no Hiuga, who had all been sent to Yamato on the orders of the Afumi court, apparently arriving shortly after Fukei.  This group set up their base of operations at the Wokamoto palace—it was, after all, the official government presence and they were the official government representatives —and they used the grounds west of Houkouji, aka Asukadera, as their assembly grounds. Ohotomo no Fukei knew that something would have to be done.  If those conscripted Yamato soldiers were formed into a proper army and sent out, it could cause a lot of trouble for Ohoama and his men.  And fortunately, Fukei had a man on the inside: apparent ally, Sakanouhe no Atahe no Kumage, the officer in charge of the Wokamoto Palace, working for Prince Takazaka who resided there.  And so Fukei had a plan—he would impersonate the Royal Prince Takechi, son of Ohoama, and pretend to lead a force of cavalry to attack the camp at Asukadera.  To strengthen the illusion, Fukei would come in from the north, which is where Prince Takechi and his men would presumably be coming from.  Now remember, Fukei only had tens of people that were actually on his side at this point, and the camp was presumably much larger.  If they didn't fall for his ruse, Fukei would be marching straight to his death. Fukei marshalled his troops at the house of Kudara, which is to say “Baekje”, and then left out of the south gate.  He then had an accomplice, Hada no Miyatsuko no Kuma, dressed in nothing but a loincloth, mount a horse and gallop as fast as he could towards the camp.  You can imagine the confusion in the camp as this wild, naked man gallops up to them in a panic and starts telling them that Prince Takechi and his men were on their way with a huge force. When the conscripted soldiers heard this, they panicked.  While the men were gathered, it seems that they hadn't yet been outfitted with weapons and armor, so the entire camp broke and fled.  And so Fukei was able to waltz in with his tens of men and take the camp at Asukadera, capturing Prince Takazaka and those sent from Ohotsu to levy troops.  Fukei's ally, Kumage, the man on the inside, helped with this, along with the soldiers under the command of him and the Aya no Atahe.  And so they were able to disperse the conscripted Yamato forces before they were even assembled.  However, it turned out that someone was missing.  Hodzumi no Omi no Momotari, who had been appointed leader of the operation, was not at Asukadera.  It turns out that he was over at the Woharida Palace, where he was reviewing the armory, taking out the weapons and armor for the troops that he thought were still over at Asukadera. And so Fukei continued the ruse: he sent a messenger to summon Momotari, claiming to be a summons from Prince Takechi himself. Momotari, hearing this, likely knew that he had lost, but he apparently maintained his dignity.  He didn't run away or rush to the camp.  Instead he approached on horseback in a leisurely fashion.  When he reached the encampment, now under Fukei's command, one of the soldiers shouted at Momotari to get off his horse, but Momotari, likely trying to keep what remained of his dignity, was slow in doing so.  The men around him didn't care one whit for his dignity, however.  They grabbed his collar and pulled him off of the horse, dragging him to the ground.  He was shot with an arrow and then a man drew his sword and struck him and killed him.  We aren't even told who did this deed, just how it was done. As for the others, Momonatari's brother, Hodzumi no Ihoye and Mononobe no Hiuga were bound, but eventually they were released amongst the troops, where they were no doubt watched carefully.  Princes Takazaka no Ou and Wakasa no Ou, the representatives of the Afumi court in Asuka, were made to follow behind the army.  With this victory under his belt, Ohotomo no Fukei sent messengers to Prince Ohoama, at the Fuwa pass, to let him know what had happened.  When the messengers finally reached Ohoama we are told that he was quite pleased with the result.  After all, it meant that his rearguard was that much more secure. We are told that these events took place on or about the 29th day of the 6th month, around the same time that Ohoama was overseeing the troops at Wazami, only a few days after he and the real Prince Takechi had made their way to that camp.  Things were evolving quickly.  Fukei's success drew others to his banner.  Miwa no Kimi no Takechimaro, Kamo no Kimi no Yemishi, and othes all joined Fukei's forces, “like an echo”.  With a now more sizeable force, it seems that Fukei believed he was ready to take the fight to the Afumi court.  He and his advisors drew up plans for invading Afumi, selecting men to be deputy commanders and military commanders, providing a hierarchy and some organization.  From there, a few days later, he began to march north from Asuka, towards Nara. Now Nara at this point was just a name for the northwest area of the basin—they probably didn't even think of it as the Nara basin back then.  But it was along the road that led north, through the mountains, and from there through Yamashiro and eventually on to Afumi.  As Fukei was headed north, however,  he received word that there was another force coming from the Kawachi in the west.  And so he split his forces.  Sakamoto no Omi no Takara and others were sent with some 300 troops to take a defensive position at Tatsuta.  Sami no Kimi no Sukunamaro was also sent with another several hundred men to Ohosaka… no, not that Ohosaka.  Afusaka in modern Kashiba, in western Nara Basin.  This area would have been a strategic defensive point for any troops taking the road from Kawachi, so if anyone got past Sakamoto no Takara, Sukunamaro and his troops would be waiting. The now General Fukei also sent Kamo no Yemishi with another several hundred men to guard the Iwate road, to defend that approach as well.  Now Sakamoto no Takara, who had been sent to engage the troops coming from Kawachi, reached the area of Hiraishi when he heard that Afumi forces were occupying the nearby castle of Takayasu mountain.  You may recall that Takayasu was one of the Korean style fortresses that had been built in anticipation of a possible invasion from the continent, and it had even been repaired a few times.  Now it was being used not against an outside enemy, but in an internal conflict. Takara and his men marched up the mountain, intending to attack the castle, and here we should probably give a better idea of just what this castle was like.  If you think of a modern Japanese castle the thing that likely stands out, no pun intended, is the Tenshukaku, or donjon; the multi-storied tower located somewhere inside the walls and moats of the castle proper.  This would be an ideal location to spy over the walls and see where the enemy were, as well as an area from which one could make a last ditch stand. The castles of the Asuka period were not like this.  They were built off of a continental model, and their defining feature was not the donjon—though they likely did have gate and guard towers set up so that one could see attacking forces.  No, the defining feature was really the walls.  Long, compacted-earth walls, possibly lined with stone, which snaked around the top of a mountain.  This castle style leveraged the natural contours of existing mountain tops to provide its defense.  It didn't hurt that they also provided clear views of what was happening on the plains below, and required attacking troops to march up a steep mountain climb and then attack uphill.  The tradeoff was that these weren't the kind of places that people would live, when most of the infrastructure of the state was in the fertile plains and surrounding areas.  So these castles had granaries to keep troops fed, and perhaps some basic buildings erected within the walls, but they were largely a practical design. You can still go see the Takayasu ruins, today, and you don't have to hike up the mountain as Takara and his men did.  Instead you can take a cable car up to the top, or even a regular car on the roads that drive up to the old castle site, though how much you can see I'm not sure.  There are also other castle ruins and even old kofun on the mountain, as its prominence has been recognized as important in many different centuries. There likely weren't a lot of troops manning the castle, certainly not enough that they felt they had much chance of defending it.  So when Takara and his men made it up to the top, they Afumi forces burned the granaries, so as to deny him any supplies, and then took off, discretion being the better part of valor.  Takara and his men spent the evening at the castle, no doubt recovering from their hike up.  Remember, this wasn't just a leisurely stroll—they were no doubt fully kitted out for war.  When they woke the next morning they looked out over the surrounding countryside, of which they now had fantastic views, and   Takara noticed a large army coming down along the Ohotsu-Tajihi road.  They carried flags, which I don't know how Takara could have seen at that point, which identified them as being the enemy - troops of the Afumi general, Iki no Fubito no Karakuni. And so Takara and his men descended from Takayasu, crossed the Ega River—now known as the Ishi river, and engaged Karakuni's army.  They were only 300 men, however, and Karakuni had a much larger forcem so  Takara was unable to maintain a defense.  And so they made a strategic withdrawal—in other words retreated—back to Kashikosaka, apparently a part of Afusaka, where Ki no Omi no Oho'oto had been set to guard.  So Ohotomo and the Afumi court finally scored a win. Besides his victory against Takara and his men, we are also told that Karakuni had come upon Kume no Omi no Shihoko, the governor of Kawachi.  Shihoko had been gathering troops to go fight for Ohoama, but he was found out by Karakuni.  Karakuni captured him and was going to execute him, but before he could, Shihoko took his own life, instead. As Takara was retreating and setting up a new defensive position, Fukei had his own problems to worry about.  As he was camped with his troops on Mt. Narayama, one of his men, Aradawo no Atahe no Akamaro, addressed him and suggested that they should make sure to fortify Asuka, just in case.  Fukei agreed, and sent Akamaro as well as Imbe no Kobito to guard the Okamoto Palace in Asuka.  They also made sure to remove the planks from any bridges, using them to setup fortifications along the road.  Now any army that wished to cross would either have to swim or they would need to come across the narrow beams that were all that was left of the bridges.  This was not ideal at the best of times, but you can imagine doing it as troops on the other side were shooting arrows at you.  And yet this has become a near classic trope in Japanese war stories and it won't be the only time it comes up in various historical contexts.  It wouldn't even be the only time it shows up in this current conflict. A day later, Fukei found himself engaged with an Afumi general, Ohono no Kimi no Hatayasu, on Mt. Narayama itself.  Despite Fukei having had time to set up a defensive position, the Afumi forces overwhelmed Fukei's men.  They were defeated and Fukei himself barely escaped with his life.  Fukei fled south with only one or two men, also on horseback, with Hatayasu hot on his heels, only stopping when they reached Hatta and the Yamato river.  At that point the fortifications were in place, and Hatayasu likely knew that any trying to cross the river after Fukei would likely not go nearly as well as it did at Narayama. As for General Fukei he kept going all the way until he reached Sumizaka, which appears to be in Uda.  There he fell in with Okizome no Muraji no Usagi, at the head of several tens of thousands of men.  Usagi had been with Ohoama , but upon hearing of the fighting in Yamato, Ohoama had sent him  and others to go back through the Suzuka pass to provide reinforcements.  One can only imagine how happy Fukei was at this point to see Usagi and all of thise men.  Fukei turned back around and encamped at Kanatsunawi—possibly modern Imai-cho, Kashihara city.  There he was able to gather many of the dispersed troops back into a force once again. About this time, Fukei heard that the Afumi forces were also approaching along the Afusaka road.  So now they were approaching from both the north and the west.  They were also taking several different roads—inside the largely flat area of the Nara Basin, they likely had several choices.  Takara and Oho-oto had been unable to meet the enemy and had kept retreating, likely seeking a defensible position.  As they did this, Fukei came from the east with his reinforcements.  He made it to where the roads branched at Tahema—modern Taima—where he fought with Iki no Karakuni nearby Ashi-kie pond, possibly somewhere near modern Chimata.  During the battle, one of Fukei's men, a brave warrior known to us only as “Kume”, drew his sword and rushed straight into the midst of the enemy army.  Of course one lone man wasn't likely to do much, but he inspired a cavalry charge, and men on horseback followed closely at his heels.  Seeing this force bearing quickly down on them, the Afumi troops broke, and soon it was a rout.  Fukei's men pursued, cutting down the Afumi soldiers as they fled, until Fukei finally reined them in. At this point, Fukei then admonished his troops that their goal was to take out the ringleaders, not to just indiscriminately murder the common people.  Remember, which side of the battlefield you ended up fighting on was largely a function of who had conscripted you, and Fukei evidently knew this.  As the men were still retreating, though, Fukei noticed that the Afumi general, Karakuni – one of those ringleaders - had gotten himself separated from his men.  Fukei ordered Kume—presumably the same one who had charged the army in the first place—to shoot at him, but Kume's arrow missed, and Karakuni made his escape.  Rather than pursuing, Fukei returned back to his headquarters. Once there, Fukei now learned that there were enemy forces approaching from the East, as well.  So Fukei took the army and divided it into three, defending the Upper, Middle, and Lower roads, and he took personal charge of the forces on the middle road, likely so that he could easily keep in touch with the other forces.  He was also waiting for the next challenge, and he didn't have to wait for long: the Afumi general Inukai no Muraji no Isogimi approached along the Middle Road.  He halted at Muraya, but his deputy commander, Ihoriwi no Miyatsuko no Kujira, attacked Fukei's camp with 200 specially picked soldiers.  Now it turns out that when they reached the camp, there were only a few people actually there at the time, including one Tokumaro, described as a slave of Ohowidera temple, and four “people following the army” – in other words, these might not have been actual soldiers.  .  Nevertheless, together this small group rallied, formed an advance guard and went forward, shooting arrows at Kujira's forces.  Kujira, not knowing that Fukei's camp was all but empty, halted his advance. Meanwhile, over on the Upper Road, Miwa no Takechimaro and Okizome no Usagi, who had been sent by Ohoama from Fuwa, fought with the Afumi army at the Hashi Misasagi—which is assumed to be the Hashihaka kofun, and they overwhelmingly defeated the Afumi army there, such that they was able to pivot from there and swing their forces over to the Middle road.  There they slammed into the flank of Kujira's army, who had stopped to trade blows with Fukei's camp.  Many of the common soldiers were killed, and the general, Kujira, ran off, mounted on a white horse.  Unfortunately for him, the horse took a misstep and tumbled into a muddy-rice field. Kujira was bogged down in the mud and having trouble getting out.  General Fukei, seeing this, sent a brave soldier of Kahi to shoot at Kujira, but as the soldier came up to the edge of the rice paddy, Kujira whipped his horse vigorously, and got it to extricate itself and Kujira, who galloped off and escaped.  Fukei, for his part, returned again to his headquarters and camped with his men there.  Though they were ready for another conflict, nothing ever came.  The Afumi forces had withdrawn.  The battle for the Nara basin was over, and the Yoshino forces were victorious. General Fukei, however, was anything but finished.  Remember, he had planned to take the fight to the Afumi court, and so, having subdued the enemy forces in Yamato—which is to say the Nara basin—Fukei marched out through Afusaka to Naniwa, and then marched on Yamazaki, where he set up camp.  From there, he sent messengers to all the governors of the Western Provinces.  He forced them to give up their keys, their posting-bells, and their posting tallies—basically he had them formally submit to the Yoshino faction, and thus to Ohoama. Meanwhile, Ohoama had his own campaign to conduct, and it kicked off in the middle of Fukei's defense of the Yamato Home Province.  He also would engage various generals in battle, but we'll save that campaign for Part Four. But before we go I do want to point out, once again: this wasn't a simple and straightforward matter of attack and defense.  Notice that generals on both sides sometimes were victorious and sometimes had to flee.  You can only imagine how, after the defeat at Narayama, General Fukei must have felt that all hope was lost, only to run into a force ten thousand strong come to relive him and his paltry troops.  But it could just as easily have been that he didn't make it.  In fact, how many warriors died?  Heroically, perhaps, but still died.  And if there were no descendants to carry on their name and remember their deeds, then who knows how many people just didn't get written about at all.  And then there are all of those common soldiers.  Individuals without any recorded name, but who nonetheless were there and who fought. They may not have been the people that later authors cared to write about, and yet they were all someone's child, and possibly their sibling or parent.  They loved and laughed, and certainly died.  All to determine who would sit next upon the Yamato throne.  One has to wonder if winning or losing really changed anything for them, or perhaps they won simply by surviving. And on that cheerful thought, I'll take my leave.  Until next time, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Volodymyr Zelenský sa dostal do pozornosti médií v inom svetle ako doteraz. Ukrajinský prezident podpísal zákon, ktorým vzbudil pochybnosti o snahe bojovať proti korupcii a vyhnal aktivistov do ulíc. Oslabením dvoch kľúčových inštitúcií podobných slovenskej NAKA či ÚŠP a posilnením generálneho prokurátora, by mohol koncentrovať moc a oslabiť očistu krajiny od korupčných prepojení. Zelenský však po hlasnej kritike zo zahraničia sľúbil otvorenosť pri nových opatreniach a zapojenie aktérov boja proti korupcii do zefektívnenia procesov.Ešte v stredu prezident schválil nový návrh zákona, ktorý posilní právny poriadok a zároveň zachová nezávislosť protikorupčných úradov.V podcaste Dobré ráno sa Jana Krescanko Dibáková so zahraničnopolitickou analytičkou Janou Kobzovou rozpráva o úrovni korupcie na Ukrajine a o tom, čo prinieslo schválenie zákonov, ktoré oslabujú Národný protikorupčný úrad (NABU) a Špecializovanú protikorupčnú prokuratúru (SAPO), čo znamenajú slová ukrajinského prezidenta, ktorý v tejto súvislosti spomína ruské vplyvy a v čom sa od Ukrajiny môžeme učiť.Zdroj zvukov: TA3, STVR, Česká televize, Channel 4 News, Sky News, Youtube/Volodymyr Zelenskyj, Al Jazeera, Facebook/Robert FicoOdporúčanie:Dnes mám pre vás kultúrne tipy, Bratislavu čakajú Korunovačné slávnosti a na viacerých slovenských hradoch budú zaujímavé akcie, dokonca aj nočné. Ak ako ja občas neviete, kam vybehnúť s deťmi, na webe nájdete viaceré stránky sumarizujúce akcie. A ak budete v blízkosti Rimavskej Soboty, cez víkend tam natrafíte na našich Piatočkárov.

Stephan and Cory discuss the current trends in Bitcoin and cryptocurrency, focusing on the dynamics of altcoins, the emergence of treasury companies, and the implications of regulatory changes. They explore the long-term outlook for Bitcoin, the role of mining companies, and the potential for institutional adoption. The discussion emphasizes the importance of understanding the market landscape and the various strategies for investing in Bitcoin and related assets.Takeaways

This episode we continue with the Jinshin War.  This episode we follow Prince Oama on his dramatic escape to the east:  From Yoshino he dashed through the mountains, through Iga and over to Ise.  In so doing he secured both Suzuka and Fuwa--areas that would be important chokepoints throughout Japan's history.   For more information, check out our blogpost at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-130 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 130: Jinshin no Ran, Part II:  Gathering Stormclouds.   The soldier on watch was doing his best to keep alert.  The night shift was never pleasant duty, and it was even less pleasant out here in the mountains.  There were plenty of sounds in the night—birds and animals out in the darkness—but rarely was there much actual action.  At least the sky was clear, with only the occasional cloud. Guarding a post station was hardly the worst duty in the world. There was a decent amount of traffic: after all, they were along one of the major routes between Ise and Yamato.  But at night, well, who wanted to try and navigate the mountain roads?  That was a great way to fall into a river and drown, or get lost in the woods, unable to find your way back to civilization. It must have been a shock when he saw a light in the distance.  There were almost always a few fires somewhere in the village, but most of them were out or covered at this time of night, with the exception of the odd torch.  But this was something more.  At first the guard thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.  And then he wondered if it was some kind of mountain spirit—he'd heard of ghost parades that could come and take people in the night.  He shivered, and instinctively checked his own torch to ensure that it was burning well and bright.  Indeed it was. It took him a little time for his eyes to adjust again to the darkness, but now, sure enough, he saw the torches coming—and not just one, many of them, and he could now hear the faint metallic clank of metal on metal.  He then heard a faint sound like a tight rope being suddenly plucked.  It only just started to dawn on him what was happening when the first arrows started to rain down on his position. They were under attack!   Welcome back.  This episode we are continuing with our coverage of the Jinshin no Ran—the Jinshin War of 672—and if you haven't already, I highly recommend you start with episode 129, where we talk about some of the background for what was happening.  That said, let's do a quick recap to bring us up to speed on where we are.  And then we'll dive into an account of an absolutely unbelievable journey, which is impressive for multiple reasons, but mostly for the speed at which it was able to take place. So as you may recall, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, passed away at the end of 671 after months of illness.  After falling ill, the Chronicles tell us that he offered the state to his younger brother, the Crown Prince, Prince Ohoama, but Ohoama was warned that it was a trap, and as such, he turned down the offer.  Instead, he retired from his position to become a monk, and left for Yoshino, taking half of his household with him.  With Ohoama retired, Naka no Oe's son, the 23 year old Prince Ohotomo, took the throne. After Naka no Oe's death, Ohotomo effectively ruled Yamato from the Ohotsu palace in Afumi, running things along with the ministers of the left and right, Soga no Akaye and Nakatomi no Kane, and other high ministers.  Though the Nihon Shoki does not acknowledge it, Ohotomo is thought to have been a formal sovereign, in deed if not in name, at this point.  Much later, he would be given the posthumous name of “Koubun Tennou”. It would seem that Ohotomo and the Afumi court had misgivings about Prince Ohoama's promise to retire from the world and not challenge the throne.  The Nihon Shoki recounts that they began to make subtle preparations for a conflict, including levying men to build Naka no Oe's tomb, but issuing them weapons instead of tools.  They also set up checkpoints along the road from the court in Ohotsu down to Asuka—the main route to where Ohoama was residing in Yoshino.  And then, finally, someone told Ohoama that they were no longer allowing Prince Ohoama's people to cross the Uji bridge to bring him and his household supplies. Prince Ohoama was not going to sit idly by while the Afumi court gathered up enough forces to claim he was doing something treasonous and then march on him in Yoshino.  And so he sent one of his trusted vassals to the east to seek support.  Meanwhile, he himself was making ready to move.  There was just one more thing before setting out:  seeing if he could get posting bells.  This was sparked by the words of one of his advisors, who suggested that they should be careful.  They did not have many soldiers in Yoshino, and they had already sent out a general like Woyori to start raising troops in the East.  At the same time, if the Afumi Court was also maneuvering, it was likely that they would have sent words to the various post stations to bar the roads and prevent any movement. As such, Prince Ohoama decided to send several messengers to ask for Posting Bells, so that Ohoama and his men could make use of the official horses at the various post stations, allowing them to travel much more quickly and freely.  However, it was not clear if such orders had come and, if they had, where the local government officiallys might place their loyalty. Of particular importance was the case of Prince Takasaka, who was in charge of the Okamoto Palace, and thus the governance of the ancient capital. He would be the one to grant posting bells if they were to receive them.  If he provided the bells, then Ohoama and his party could assume they would have little to no trouble making their way East. And so Prince Ohoama sent his evnoys to the Okamoto palace.The messengers requested posting bells, but Prince Takasaka refused to issue them.  This sent a clear message to Prince Ohoama:  the Afumi court had no intention of letting him and his household have free access to the roads, and the local officials in Asuka were not going to provide any support.  In fact, Prince Takasaka now knew that Ohoama planned to travel, and if he wanted to, Takasaka could likely raise troops to try and stop Ohoama from leaving.  At the very least he would no doubt be sending a swift horse to Ohotsu to inform the Afumi court.  Ohoama and his followers would have to hurry if they wanted to do anything. And so, on the 24th of the 6th month, the same day that he got word back about the posting bells,  Prince Ohoama made the decision to move.  He and his entourage left quickly—he didn't even let anyone saddle a horse for him or prepare his carriage.  He just started to head out on foot on a journey to the East – and keep in mind that everything I'm going to describe in the next few minutes happened over the course of one night, truly an epic journey for Ohoama and all of those with him..  The Chronicles lists about 20 men and over ten women who originally set out with Ohoama from Yoshino, including his wife, the Royal Princess Uno no Sarara, daughter of Naka no Oe.  She wasn't walking, however—she followed a little behind in a palanquin, or litter, carried on poles.  I do wonder if those carrying the palanquin are among those mentioned, or were they servants or even enslaved persons who weren't considered worthy of note. The path they traveled wound its way through the mountains.  Streams and rivers had carved channels and valleys into these mountains.  People had settled these areas, and created paths through the wilderness.  Now, the valleys were fairly well populated, with roads connecting the communities that had grown up in the nooks and hollers. These facilitated trade through the mountain communities and between the eastern and western sides of the Kii peninsula, but even still, it was difficult terrain.  Unlike roads in the flat plains, the width of the roads in the mountains would have been constrained by steep mountainsides and the natural twists and turns of the valleys.  There may have been rope or wooden bridges that they had to cross, as streams constantly flow down the hill sides to the river below.  This route would make it much easier to avoid any official Afumi forces that might have been sent out, as those would likely be sticking to the main roads, but there were still government outposts along the way.  If these outposts proved loyal to the Afumi court, they could raise the alarm and send a messenger on horseback, who could likely flee much more quickly than Ohoama's men could follow.  And if Afumi learned that Ohoama was on the move, they could quickly mobilize their forces, secure key strategic points, and Ohoama's mad rush would be for naught.   The path Ohoama chose would lead from Yoshino, through the valleys, up through Iga, and then over to Suzuka, in Ise—modern Mie prefecture.  The journey was long and it wasn't going to be easy, but they needed to move quickly. Speaking of which, since Ohoama was traveling on foot, one of his men, Agata no Inukahi no Ohotomo, gave Prince Ohoama his own horse to ride.  Oh, and in case you are wondering: There are a lot of people named “Ohotomo” in the narrative, not just the Prince, Ohoama's nephew and rival for the throne.  Sorry, it was apparently a somewhat popular name AND it was also a clan, or uji, name as well.  I'll try to distinguish some of them in the podcast blog page. The party hadn't traveled far when Ohoama's own carriage—or possibly a palanquin, like his wife's—showed up for him, so I assume Ohotomo got his horse back, but they were still constrained to the speed of their slowest member, and I doubt that the mountain roads were all that wide and flat—most likely just the opposite. The group journeyed upstream along the Tsuburo river and eventually made it to Aki, in the area of Uda, due east of Sakurai and Mt. Miwa.  Here they were overtaken by two men, known as Ohotomo no Muraji no Makuda and Kibumi no Muraji no Ohotomo, both hurrying on from the Yoshino Palace. Makuda had been at the Afumi court, but word was starting to spread there that there was going to be some kind of move against Prince Ohoama, so he and his brother, Ohotomo no Fukei, had feigned illness and returned to their home in the Asuka region.  Once there, Makuda had made straightaway for Yoshino, only to find that Ohoama was already on the move.  Ohotomo no Fukei, on the other hand, chose to stay in the area of Asuka and see what he could do there.  He was looking to see what kind of forces he could raise in the ancient capital region.  We'll learn more about him, later. It was also in Aki, apparently, where they met Hashi no Muraji no Mate, who was from the Department of the official rice fields.  Even though he was a government official, he was a supporter of Ohoama and his cause, and so he supplied Ohoama and his people with food for their journey. Just north of the Aki fields they came upon Kammura—thought to be near modern Kaguraoka—where the Yoshino forces conscripted 20 hunters into service, almost doubling their numbers, and now they at least had some weapons with them.  Prince Mino, and presumably his men, also joined forces with Ohoama and his party—their ranks were starting to grow. In Uda, they were no doubt glad of any assistance, and at the government offices in the village of Uda itself, they were also warmly welcomed.  There they found 50 pack-horses that were laden down with rice meant for the hot baths at Ise.  The rice was discarded and Ohoama commandeered the pack animals so that his forces could ride, rather than walk.  Nonetheless, it was still a long way to go.  Indeed, night was approaching by the time they reached Ohono—likely the modern area of Muro-ohono and Ohonoji, along the Uda river.  They didn't want to stop, but it could be treacherous trying to navigate in the mountains in the dark.  What they needed was a light source.  And so we are told that they pulled down some of the fences of nearby houses and created makeshift torches to light their way.  Thus they were able to continue on until they reached the town of Nabari at approximately midnight. Nabari was not quite so friendly.  It was the home of a post-station, which had a duty to report things to the Afumi court.  Ohoama and his men arrived with their torches and in the middle of the night they attacked and set fire to the post station.  One can only imagine how surprised those manning the station must have been.  Presumably Ohoama's party took any horses and provisions, both for their own use and so that they couldn't be used against them.  To those members of the village that were woken up and who came out to see what was going on, Ohoama's entourage proclaimed that Prince Ohoama was heading east and that people should join them.  More specifically we are told that he said that the “Sumera no Mikoto” was on his way to the East Country. I want to pause here a moment, because there are some that say that this was the first use of the term “Sumera no Mikoto”, or, as we more commonly read the characters today, “Tennou”.  At the very least we believe that the term “Tennou” may have first used in this time period—though I do wonder about it being used in this particular instance.  I'll come back to this at the end, but for now, let's get back to the story.  So Ohoama announced to the people that he, the sovereign—for he had declared himself as such—was heading to the Eastern lands, and he invited anyone who wished to join him.  Nobody took him up on his offer, however.  It must have sounded crazy.  Ohoama had swept in at midnight, his forces carrying torches, and had attacked the post station, the symbol of the government in their midst.  I imagine that the people wanted little to nothing to do with any further conflict if they could help it. Continuing on in the darkness, Ohoama and his party came to a river—probably the Nabari River.  The Chronicle refers to it as “Yokokawa”, a term that shows up multiple times, and means something like “side river” and I suspect it was just the name for a river that ran alongside the fields or something similar.  As they were crossing, a dark cloud spread across the night sky for over 10 rods—about 100 feet.  Ohoama kindled a light and took a look at a geomantic rule to determine what it could mean.  This “rule” was possibly a type of stick or even a kind of compass-like device with a square bottom and round top, indicating the heavens and the earth.  He announced to everyone that the cloud was an omen that the country would be divided into two parts but, ultimately, their side would win out. One can only imagine how tired and worn out everyone was at this point, but apparently this urged them onward.  They reached Iga, where once again, they attacked and set fire to the posting station. Now getting through Iga must have had Ohoama's head on a swivel.  After all, Prince Ohotomo's mother was apparently from that region – he was the Iga Royal Prince, after all - so it would be understandable if people were loyal to him.  Fortunately, for Ohoama, he had his local supporters as well.  In fact, Joan Piggot points out in “The Emergence of Japanese Kingship” that Ohoama may have had a surprising amount of support from the various local elites.  Remember that the policies that Naka no Oe and the court had put into place had given power to court appointed officials at the expense of the traditional local elites.  So it may have been that those traditional local elites were more inclined to assist Ohoama against the Afumi Court, while those appointed officials, such as those who were managing the post stations, were more likely to swing the other way, since their positions and their stipends were directly reliant on the court's good graces.  This seems to have been the case in this instance, around Nakayama, in Iga, where we are told that they met with local district governors who had heard that Ohoama was on the move and who had raised several hundred men in support of his cause.  Now their ranks really had grown—compared with the relatively small group that had first set out from Yoshino the previous day, there were now hundreds of men on the march. Ohoama's forces finally arrived at the plain of Tara, or Tarano, by dawn, and with the sun coming over the mountains they briefly stopped for a moment to catch their breath and eat something.  They had just marched through the night—a distance of approximately 70 kilometers, or 43 and a half miles.  That included stops to attack and set fire to two post stations along the way, and much of the journey early on was done on foot.  During that march, their ranks had grown tremendously.  This is an incredible feat, especially with much of it being accomplished at night. Let's also quickly discuss those extra troops that had come to his banner.  Remember that prior to this, Prince Ohoama had sent messengers ahead to Mino and Owari to try and raise forces in those areas.  They had likely traveled these same roadways, and told  any allies they had to prepare.  So while the forces were raised quickly, there were no doubt some logistics that went into it. After a brief rest, the army was back on their feet, heading to Yamaguchi—modern Tsuge city.  Here Ohoama was greeted by his son, Prince Takechi, who had come from Afumi down through Kafuka—modern Kouka, aka Kouga.  He had brought several other men of his own, and presumably soldiers as well. The entire party crossed Mt. Miyama and into Suzuka, in Ise, where they were joined by the provincial governor, Miyake no Muraji no Iwatoko; Deputy Governor, Miwa no Kimi no Kobuto, and the magistrate of the famous hot baths, Tanaka no Omi no Tarumaro, among others.  That same morning, they set a troop of 500 soldiers to guard the pass.  After all, it would do them no good to have a government force suddenly appear behind them.  Also, you may recall that Ohoama's request to his allies in Mino was to take the Fuwa pass, in the north—the area more popularly known today as Sekigahara.  So now, with both the Suzuka and Fuwa passes under Ohoama's control, his forces controlled access to the Eastern countries.  The only other viable route, at least if you didn't want to get lost in the mountains, was to take the road to the north, through Koshi, and that was going to be a slog around or over the Japan Alps. So a garrison was left as a rear guard, but the troops who were not staying to guard the pass continued, turning northwards.  By sunset on the 25th day of the 6th month of 672, they had reached the foot of Kahawa Hill.  Here, Ohoama's consort, Princess Uno no Sarara, asked if they could take a break.  She was not exactly used to this kind of travel, and even riding on a palanquin, she was exhausted and fatigued.  As they looked to the sky, though, it was clear that dark clouds were gathering.  So they cut their rest short and pushed on, hoping to make it to the government offices at Mie—likely meaning modern day Yokkaichi city. Sure enough, as they continued to march, the heavens opened with a thunderstorm pouring down on them.  The entire army was soaked to the bone.  Cold and wet, when they did get to the government center or Mie district, they deliberately set fire to an entire building just so that the troops could try to warm themselves a bit.  Those who had set out from Yoshino had marched over 122km, or 75 miles, including over 700 meters of elevation up and 800 meters down.  Checking a map of the route, it suggests that a person walking it, today, without any breaks, would take around 28 hours to complete the trip, and indeed, Ohoama's took roughly one and a half days.  That includes time for their assaults on the various post stations, and a brief rest at the Tara fields.  Now, granted, they had procured horses for parts of that, and many of the soldiers had not necessarily been there since the beginning, but it is still an incredible feat, when you think about it.  I'm honestly surprised that it doesn't get more of a mention in various historical contexts.  Then again, we are still well before the age of the Samurai, which is the period most martial historians typically examine. So that night, as they were settling in at the Mie government center following their amazing dash across the mountains, word came from forces at Suzuka:  Prince Yamabe and Prince Ishikawa had apparently come to offer their allegiance to Ohoama.  However, as they weren't known to the men, they were held at the Suzuka barrier until someone could verify.  Ohoama sent Michi no Atahe no Masubito to go fetch them and bring them to him. The following morning, Ohoama worshipped towards Amaterasu on the banks of a river in the district of Asake.  Thinking about it, I'm not sure if they meant that he worshipped south, in the direction of Ise Shrine, or if he worshipped east, the direction of the rising sun.  The exact direction doesn't entirely matter, but I think we will come back to this, as it would have consequences later on. Later, Masubito returned from his errand, catching back up to the army, which was continuing on its way.  It turns out that it was not Princes Yamabe and Ishikawa that Masubito had found at Suzuka, but instead  Ohoama's own son, Ohotsu, who had come along to join his father.  I presume he had been traveling under a false name in case he ran into men loyal to the Afumi court.  He was followed by a number of others, including a list of names which I am not going to go over here because it wouldn't mean all that much.  Suffice it to say that the Chroniclers were doing their best to make sure that various families were remembered for what they did. Now just as Prince Ohotsu was joining the main force, Murakami no Woyori arrived with word that 3,000 Mino troops were mobilized and currently blocking the Fuwa Road.  You may recall that Woyori was the one that Ohoama had sent to Mino for just that purpose, scouting out the lay of the land. Ohoama sent Prince Takechi ahead to Fuwa to organize the forces there.  Then he sent two others to mobilize troops along the Tokaido region, and two others were sent into the mountains to levy soldiers from the Tousando region.  As a quick reminder: the Tokaido was the eastern sea highway, while the Tousando, the Eastern Mountain Road, went through the middle of eastern Honshu, through the more mountainous regions.  Together, these two routes would have pulled from the most populous regions of the east. As for Ohoama, he took up residence at the government center in Kuwana, where he spent some time resting for a bit. Now just as Ohoama was building up his forces, so, too, was the Afumi court.  As soon as word made it to the capital that Ohoama was on the move, chaos ensued.  Many people fled the capital, some heading to the East, perhaps to join Ohoama, while others went to hide in the mountains and marshes until all the chaos was over and the dust settled.  The young Prince Ohotomo asked the ministers what he should do, and they recommended that he immediately set out with cavalry to pursue Ohoama and catch him before he could assemble too many troops.  However, he decided not to heed their advice, instead opting to assemble an army of his own, to add to the soldiers that had already been levied.  He sent Ina no Iwasuki, Fumi no Kusuri, and Wosaka no Ohomaro to the East country, while Hodzumi no Momotari, his younger brother, Ihoye, and Mononobe no Hiuga headed to the Yamato capital—which is to say Asuka.  Ohotomo also sent Saheki no Wotoko to Tsukushi and Kusu no Iwate to Kibi, all with orders to levy troops.  He gave Wotoko and Iwate special instructions, since there was some concern that neither Tsukushi nor Kibi would be compliant, as they both had been supported by Ohoama and may feel ties to him.  So if the leaders of either of those areas were to resist, Wotoko and Iwate were authorized to execute them for treason. As Iwasuki, Kusuri, and Ohomaro headed east, they traveled around Lake Biwa and were headed to the Fuwa pass, not knowing that it was already controlled by Ohoama's forces.  Iwasuki, however, was cautious.  He realized that they might be ambushed, and so he held back from the main group.  Sure enough, he was right:  Kusuri and Ohomaro were ambushed and captured, at which point Iwasuki fled, barely escaping. The following day, Prince Takechi sent a note to his father asking him to move closer to Fuwa, so that they could better communicate with the front line.  Ohoama headed out, but left Princess Uno in Kuwana, which was well situated between Fuwa and Suzuka, and was likely far enough from the front lines to ensure that it wouldn't be disrupted by skirmishes at the passes.  As Ohoama then traveled through Wohari, the governor, Chihisakobe no Muraji no Sabichi, also joined him with a force of 20,000 men.  Ohoama had them divided up and set them on roads to various places as needed. Ohoama finally reached Nogami, just on the eastern edge of modern Sekigahara.  This is near where Tokugawa Ieyasu would eventually make his first camp as well, at his fateful battle here just under a thousand years later.  At Nogami, Ohoama would set up his headquarters, Nogami no Miya, or the Nogami Palace.  Meanwhile, Prince Takechi would handle the troops in the main part of the area near the pass, known as Wazami.  As Ohoama reached Nogami, Takechi came to conference with him.  He noted that there had already been an altercation—they had taken prisoners, who claimed that they were actually headed east to raise troops for Ohoama, but given that they didn't know who they were AND that Iwasuki had fled back towards Ohotsu-kyo suggested that this was not exactly the case. Following that incident, and a fair amount of speechifying, Ohoama eventually placed Prince Takechi formally in charge of the army, presenting him the gift of a saddle-horse.  Takechi went back to his camp at Wazami.  That night, a severe thunderstorm broke out.  Ohoama prayed that if the kami favored his case, they would make the storm abate, and immediately the thunder and lightning stopped. The next day, on the 28th, Ohoama traveled over to Wazami to review the troops and check on the military arrangements, before returning back to Nogami.  He likewise went out the following day, issuing commands through Prince Takechi, and then returned again to Nogami. At this point, soldiers were likely on their way from the Eastern provinces and elsewhere.  On the one hand, they wanted to wait and make sure that they had all the troops they needed.  But on the other hand, they didn't want to wait too long.  The Afumi court was likewise building up its forces, and the longer they waited, the greater the chance that they could dig in and entrench themselves.  Something would have to happen, soon. But that something will have to wait for the next episode.    Before we finish, though, I do want to come back to something:  the title “Tenno”, or “Sumera no Mikoto”.  Up to this point, evidence suggests that the term used for the sovereign of Yamato was not “Tennou” as we know it today, but instead was the term “Oho-kimi”.  “Oho-kimi”, or basically the “Big Kimi”—something like the primary lord—was the one lord of lords of Yamato.  But that was probably something based on local concepts of governance.  With the introduction of new ideas of governance, many based on the Han and Tang dynasty models, we see a shift in the terminology. There are poems that come from the era of Naka no Oe—Tenji Tennou—that use terms like “Huang” (皇) and “Di” (帝)—“Kou” and “Tei” in Japanese.  These are imperial terms from the continent.  At some point, however, we see that they use “Tian” (天) and “Huang” (皇).  “Tianhuang” becomes “Tennou” (天皇) when read in Japanese, and it critically utilizes the character “Tian” for Heaven.  Interestingly, this does not appear to be a term that was ever commonly used for rulers in the area of modern China.  I seem to recall that it was used here and there, but not with any frequency.  There is some thought that it may have been pulled from a term for the north star, or pole star, which sometimes used the term, I suspect referring to that star as the Heavenly Ruler—the star that the heavens themselves were focused on. For a variety of reasons, we see a particular emphasis on Heaven, and on Amaterasu, in the decades following 672, and it is thought that this is all connected.  And so it is generally from some time here, in the late 7th century, that we can probably start to refer to the sovereigns as “Tennou”. Although, it is unclear to me if the authors of the Nihon Shoki pronounced it like this or not, later glosses given for the characters in Japanese is “Sumera no Mikoto”, the kun'yomi, or Japanese reading.  The problem is that the Nihon Shoki projects this term back to the very beginning of the narrative, with “Jimmu Tennou” being the first.  However, we have some evidence that the earlier term was, as as I said before, “Ohokimi”.  For many years, there was an idea that the term “Sumera no Mikoto” first appeared in the era of Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, probably because that is when Buddhism and continental studies really seem to kick off.  However, there really is no evidence of its use then, and it seems that more scholars today place its use in the late 7th or early 8th century. So there is the possibility that this title was first used by Ohoama, as some claim, when he declared that the “Sumera no Mikoto” or “Tennou” was heading to the Eastern countries.  Of course, that could also just be dramatic license by the Chroniclers, who were less concerned with what, exactly, he said and more concerned with the meaning of it all.  We've also known them to swap out older terms for those in use in the 8th century, updating the narrative. Regardless, I think that about this time we can start to refer to the sovereigns of Yamato—and eventually Japan, or Nihon, another somewhat controversial term—as “Tennou”, or “Sumera no Mikoto”, from about this period.  I'll probably still use the term “sovereign” in general, and I'll try to avoid the term “imperial” for anything prior to the 19th century, when it became a standard English translation.  After all, Empires were the rage—Chinese, Ottoman, British, Austrian, French, Spanish, you name it.  Everyone had an empire, and so Japan, following that model, must also have been an “empire”.  Even today, it is officially the “Imperial Household” and that is the official translation. However, I want to be cautious about using that translation too early, however.  The institution of “Tennou”, while modeled on the Tang dynasty, took on its own character.  As such, I think that it is best to avoid the term for now, because it really was its own thing, and I don't want to conflate too many foreign concepts of “emperor” with the idea of the Japanese ruler. As for the term “Sumera no Mikoto”—it does not appear to me that the etymology of this term is clearly known.  One explanation is that “Sumera” is related to the word “Suberu”, to rule.  “Sumera” is also defined as meaning something precious, though I'm not sure if that meaning existed before its use to refer to the sovereign.  “Mikoto” is simply an honorific referring to the sovereign, meaning “royal” or “imperial”.  I suspect that the term “Tennou” came over first, and later it became glossed as “Sumera no Mikoto”, which may have been an earlier term, but we don't have any clear evidence.  Variations do appear in the Man'yoshu, the collection of ancient poems, so the concept was clearly around by the 8th century. Anyway, I think that's enough.  We'll probably talk about it more when we get to the rise of the worship of Amaterasu.  Until then, let's continue with our series on the Jinshin War. Next episode we will kick off with some of the actual fighting and campaigns in Afumi, Iga, and in Yamato.  Until then, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

The sovereign, Naka no Oe is dead, and with his death comes an all too familiar tradition: different factions warring for the throne.  And this time it isn't just something we are guessing at, we get a front row seat to the show, with enough details to fill several episodes.  In Part I we will look at what kicked off the war--or at least what we know--and discuss a few of the theories.  We will also go over some of the events that happened while Prince Otomo was the head of state. For more, check out our podcast webpage at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-129 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 129:   The Jinshin no Ran, Part I: Prologue to War. The long bridge at Uji arched over the river, like a wooden rainbow.  Former Crown Prince Ohoama, his head shaved and wearing the garments of a monk, was carried over the bridge.   This was no simple priestly procession, however: he was accompanied by his entire household. Some on foot, and some on horseback.  Even the kesa, once meant to be a symbol of priestly humility and simplicity, cried out that this was a man of wealth and power and status. The procession made its way across the bridge, headed south, to the ancient Yamato capital and then on to the mountain passes beyond, where the cherry trees would bloom, come the spring.  At the north end of the bridge, the high ministers and nobility of Yamato watched them go.  The ministers of the Left and the Right stood in the cold, winter air, wrapped in their warmest clothing, but it wasn't just the weather that was causing a chill.  To some, this seemed a miracle—a clear sign that the succession would now be an easy one, with Ohoama taking himself off the board.  But to others, they weren't so sure. While many of Yamato's traditions had evolved or changed—or even been outright replaced by continental ideas—many still remembered how things had been.  The bloody politics and power struggles that often accompanied any transition of power.  Naka no Oe had risen to power in just such a fashion.  Now that he was not long for this world, would his legacy be any less violent? Greetings, everyone, and welcome back.  Last episode we took you through the official reign of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  Granted, this reign was only from 668 to 671, but Naka no Oe had already been putting his stamp on the state for over 33 years.  Now, however, he was dead, as were those who had helped him implement his enormous changes, and with his death there was the question:  Who would now ascend to the throne? And that question brings us to today's topic:  The Jinshin no Ran, also known as the Jinshin War.  This was a succession dispute that occurred in the year 672 following the death of Naka no Oe, between Naka no Oe's son Ohotomo and his brother Ohoama.  The name, “Jinshin”, is formed much as the name of the “Isshi” incident, using the sinified Japanese reading of the sexagenary cycle characters used for the year.  672 was a “Mizu-no-e Saru” year, or what we today might just call a “Water Monkey” year.  Read together, these characters can be pronounced “Jinshin”, hence “Jinshin no Ran”. Quick digression:  That word “Ran”, indicating a war or similar martial disturbance, is the same character used as the title of the famous Kurosawa film that took Shakespear's King Lear story and set it in the Warring States period of Japan.  If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it—definitely a classic.  Not exactly relevant here, but still worth it. But back to the Jinshin War: we're going to likely spend a few episodes on this, not just because it is important, but also because the record is fairly detailed, and I'd like to use it to really help us get an idea of what was going on.  This episode we'll look at the broad picture: some of the causes of the war and where things were, generally speaking, just before the major campaigns kicked off. Of course, this isn't the first succession dispute in the Chronicles, but this one is incredibly detailed, and especially importantbecause it goes to the heart of the legitimacy of the royal family—the imperial family—for at least the next century.  To a certain extent, I would also suggest that it was exactly the kind of thing that the Nihon Shoki was created to address: an official history as propaganda for the Japanese court, telling  the court approved story of the royal family and providing justification as to why they are in power.  Along the way it also props up the lineages of other elites. So let's go over the basic story of the conflict before we get into the details.  I know, I know: spoilers.  But I think it will help to have context for what we are talking about right now.  To try to summarize: Ohoama, Naka no Oe's brother, is mentioned as the Crown Prince throughout Naka no Oe's reign, but just before Naka no Oe's death, Ohoama declined the position and went to Yoshino to become a Buddhist monk.  This allowed Naka no Oe's son, Prince Ohotomo, the current Dajo Daijin, or head of the council of state, to run the government and eventually take the throne.  However, shortly into Prince Ohotomo's reign, Ohoama raised an army and fought with Ohotomo and the court at Ohotsu-kyo, known as the Afumi court.  After a couple of months of intense fighting, Ohoama defeated the Afumi forces and Ohotomo.  Ohoama would go on to take the throne, becoming known as Temmu Tennou.  He is credited with starting the projects that culminated in the creation of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki. On the surface, this could easily look like a simple case of usurpation—especially if you come from a cultural background where sons are expected to inherit from their fathers, as is common in many European monarchies.  However, we have to remind ourselves that this isn't Europe.  For centuries, succession in Yamato had been much more chaotic than that.  Often succession went not to a son or daughter, but first to a brother, and even then it didn't necessarily go to the oldest brother, or to the oldest child.  Even designating an heir wasn't a guarantee that, after a ruler's death, someone else wouldn't come along and change things by force. Of course, the Nihon Shoki appears to lay out various rules for succession.  In most cases, your mother has to be descended—however distantly—from a previous sovereign.  Also, inheritance typically doesn't come at the attainment of adulthood.  It isn't like someone turns 20 and they are suddenly eligible.  We see plenty of reigns that are passed off as regencies—that is, the sovereign is legally just a caretaker for the throne until the true heir comes of age.  Perhaps the most famous of these is Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Tenno, who supposedly held the throne from the death of her husband until their son, Homuda Wake, aka Ojin Tenno, was of age.  But it isn't like she just abdicated.  In fact, I don't think we've seen a single example where a regent has abdicated the throne.  The only real abdication that we see is in 645, when Takara Hime, known as Kogyoku Tenno during her first reign, abdicated after the Isshi Incident.  There are also plenty of examples of possible claimants to the throne who certainly seem like they may have been supremely qualified for the position who end up dying or being killed, sometimes with the specific claim that they were trying to usurp the throne.  The most recent example is Furubito no Oe, who likely was in line to inherit the throne from Takara Hime prior to the Isshi Incident.  It doesn't help that the Chronicle often only calls people by their titles:  so it is the “Crown Prince” who does such and such, or it is “the sovereign”—without explicitly naming who that person is.  Of course, this is sometimes made clear by context, but that can't always be relied upon. This is compounded by the fact that at this time, Wa cultural norms were being overwritten by continental concepts of propriety and morality, with the growth of reading and continental works introducing many people to the discourses of Confucius and others.  Borrowing governmental structures and ideas from a Confucian state meant that Confucian ideals would get pulled along as well, even if those structures and ideas weren't strictly Confucian.  An example is the importance of filial piety, and so-called “Proper” relationships between people.  In some cases Confucian or even Buddhist concepts were used to explain and rationalize existing traditions, and in others they were used to provide a counter-narrative.  Thus the world described by the Nihon Shoki is one that was no doubt much more comprehensible to an 8th century member of court than to someone from the 3rd. I say all that so that we can keep an eye out for the Chroniclers' bias and perhaps give some thought to what might not have gotten written down. The creation of the Ritsuryo state was the culmination of over 33 years of work.  During that time, the Yamato court had centralized their power and control.  The Chronicles, looking back at the end of the process, report this as a good thing, and it is hard to argue that these reforms truly did lead to the country of Japan as we know it, today.  However, it probably wasn't all lollipops and rainbows.   The centralization of authority received pushback, and we see the center flexing its military might as well as legal and moral authority.  The new Ritsuryo state claimed a much greater control over land and resources than any previous government had done or  been able to do.  Even if the 5th century sovereign Wakatakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tenno, had people at his court from Kyushu to Kanto, influence isn't the same as control.  Up until the Ritsuryo reforms, it appears that local administrators had a lot of leeway in terms of what happened in their local domains.  After all, what could Yamato do about it?  As long as “taxes” were paid, then there was no reason for Yamato to otherwise interfere with local events, and even if there were, who would they get to enforce their will? But In the Ritsuryo system, at least conceptually, the State had local governors who reported back to the central authority.  These governors  were set apart from the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the traditional local authority, and their income was tied to the court. Moreover, this system wasn't just tradition and the whims of the elites: it was codified in written laws and punishments.  In fact, the Record of the Fujiwara—the Toushi Kaden—claims that the entire legal code was written down in 668 by their patriarch, Nakatomi no Kamatari, prior to his death.  There are also other references to this compilation, known to us as the “Oumi Code”, referencing the region that the court had moved to:  Afumi, around Lake Biwa.  Unfortunately, we don't have any extant copies of what, exactly, the Code said, other than various laws explicitly noted in the Nihon Shoki.  Still, we can assume that it was probably similar to later codes, which would have been using the Oumi code as a base from which to work from. The new authority for this code descended from the throne, based on continental and even Confucian concepts of the State.  And Naka no Oe had no doubt been the one to help maintain continuity over the past three decades.  Now he was dead, so what came next? Well based on what we have in the Nihon Shoki, that should be obvious:  His brother, the Crown Prince, Ohoama, would take the throne, wouldn't he?  After all, he was the designated Crown Prince, and he had been in that role, promulgating orders, and otherwise acting as we might expect, at least since Naka no Oe had given up the position. And yet, it seems there was some doubt.  After all, while a brother—or sister—inheriting the throne was hardly unheard of, Naka no Oe did have children of his own.  Most importantly, there was his son, Prince Ohotomo.  Ohotomo was only about 23 years old, but he had been made the Dajoudaijin, the head of the Council of State, which one would think would put him in a position of tremendous authority. Naka no Oe apparently had some inkling that there could be a succession dispute upon his death.  And so, two months after he had taken ill, as it became painfully obvious that he might not recover, he called in his brother, Crown Prince Ohoama, and he told him clearly that it was his intention to have his brother succeed him on the throne. Before going much further, I would note that the entries in the Nihon Shoki that speak to this incident are spread across two different books in that chronicle.  Part of it takes part in the chronicle of Tenji Tennou (Naka no Oe), but then the reign of Temmu Tennou (Ohoama) is actually broken up into two books, the first of which is often considered the history of the Jinshin Ran, while the second is really Temmu's reign.  And in some cases we get slightly different versions of the same event.    The Nihon Shoki was written less than 50 years after the events being discussed, so likely by people who had actual memory of what happened, it was also propaganda for the regime in power at the time.  So as we read through the events, we have to be critical about our source and what it is telling us. To that end, I'll mostly start out with the narrative as it appears in the Nihon Shoki, and then we can look back and see what else might be going on if we make some assumptions that the Chroniclers may not be the most reliable of narrators for these events. Anyway, getting back to the story as we have it in the Nihon Shoki:  So the person sent to fetch Prince Ohoama to come see his brother, the sovereign, was a man by the name of Soga no Yasumaru.  And Yasumaru brought not only the summons, but a warning, as well.  He told Prince Ohoama to “think before you speak”.  This suggested to Ohoama that there was some kind of plot afoot. And lest we forget, for all that Naka no Oe is often put up on a pedestal for his role in the Taika reforms and founding the nation—even the posthumous name they gave him was the “Sovereign of Heavenly Wisdom”—that pedestal he stands on is covered in blood.  Naka no Oe's political career starts with the brazen murder of Soga no Iruka in full view of all the gathered nobility, and is immediately followed with him marshalling forces against Soga no Emishi, who set fire to his own house rather than surrender. And then, shortly into the Taika period, Naka no Oe had his own brother, Furubito no Oe, killed so that he wouldn't be a threat.  And later, when he just heard a rumor that Soga no Ishikawa no Maro—his father-in-law, Prime Minister of the Right, and co-conspirator—was having treasonous thoughts, he gathered up forces to have him and his family murdered. And though it may have been a bit less bloody, let's not forget his apparent falling out with his uncle, Karu, where he left the giant palace complex at Naniwa and took the entire royal family to Asuka against his uncle, the sovereign's, wishes. Add to that the note from the Fujiwara family records, the Toushi Kaden, about the party at the “shore pavilion” where Ohoama spiked a spear through a plank of wood which rattled Naka no Oe enough that he was contemplating having him taken out right there.  According to that account, it was only the intervention of Nakatomi no Kamatari that saved Ohoama's life.  Even if it weren't true, it likely illustrates something about how their relationship was viewed by others. Given all of that, I think we can understand how Ohoama might not be entirely trusting of his older brother's intentions.  So when that same brother offered him control of the government, Ohoama was suspicious.  Perhaps it was because he was already the Crown Prince, the expected heir, so why would Naka no Oe be offering him the throne?  Perhaps it was some kind of test of his loyalty? And so Prince Ohoama declined.  He claimed that he had always had bad health, and probably wouldn't be a good choice.  Instead, he put forward that the Queen, Yamatobime, should be given charge, and that Naka no Oe's son, Prince Ohotomo, should be installed as the Crown Prince—the new successor to the throne.  Furthermore, to demonstrate his resolve, he asked to be allowed to renounce the world and become a monk. Indeed, immediately after the audience with his brother, Prince Ohoama went to the Buddhist hall in the palace itself and had his head shaved and took holy orders.  He even gave up any private weapons that he might have—likely meaning not just his personal weapons, but any private forces that might be under his command.  The sovereign himself sent his brother a kesa or clerical garment, apparently approving of—or at least accepting—his decision. Two days later, Prince Ohoama went back to his brother and asked to be allowed to leave for Yoshino to go and practice Buddhism there.  He was given permission and he headed out.  The ministers of the left and right, that is Soga no Akae and Nakatomi no Kane, along with Soga no Hatayasu, a “Dainagon” or Chief Counselor, and others, all traveled with him all the way to Uji, where they saw him off.  By evening he had made it as far as the Shima Palace, which is assumed to have been in Asuka—possibly at or near the site of the old Soga residence.  The following day he was in Yoshino. Arriving at Yoshino with his household, Prince Ohoama gave his servants a choice—those who wished could take orders and stay with him in Yoshino.  Those with ambitions at the court, though, were allowed to return back to Ohotsu, presumably going to work for another family.  At first, none of them wanted to leave his side, but he beseeched them a second time, and half of them decided to stay and become monks with him while half of them left, returning to the court. As we mentioned earlier, another royal prince—and possibly crown prince—had taken a similar option back in the year 645.  That was Prince Furubito no Oe, half-brother to Naka no Oe and Ohoama.  We talked about that back in episode 109.  As with that time, taking Buddhist orders and retiring from the world was meant to demonstrate that the individual was renouncing any claims on the throne and was no longer a threat to the succession. The Nihon Shoki notes, though, that as Prince Ohoama was leaving Uji, some commented that it was like the saying: “Give a tiger wings and let him go.”  The first part of that is no doubt referencing a saying still used in Mandarin, today:  “Rúhǔtiānyì” or “Yǔhǔtiānyì, meaning to “add wings to a tiger”—in other words to take something strong and make it even more powerful.  In this case, the choice to renounce the succession and leave court made Ohoama more powerful and then set him free to do what he wanted. There is a lot of speculation around what actually happened.  Prince Ohotomo had only recently come of age and been given the important position of Dajo Daijin.  Still, he was also only 23 years old.  Now, granted, Naka no Oe hadn't been much older, himself, when he instigated the Isshi Incident, but most sovereigns aren't mentioned as having come to the throne themselves until they were maybe 30 years old or more.  Still, there is at least one theory that suggests that Naka no Oe wanted to have his brother, Ohoama, step aside and let Ohotomo take the throne.  According to that theory, his request for Ohoama to succeed him as ruler eas a ruse to get Ohoama to admit his own ambition, which Naka no Oe could then use as a pretext to get rid of his brother. There is another theory that Naka no Oe wanted Ohoama to step in as effectively regent:  Ohoama would rule, but Ohotomo would then inherit after him. Ohoama's counterproposal is intriguing.  He suggested that the affairs of state should be given to Yamato-bime, Naka no Oe's queen, and that she should rule as regent until Ohotomo was ready.  Of course, we have examples of something like this, most recently from the previous reign.  Takara Hime came to the throne, originally, because her husband, who was the sovereign, passed away and their children were not yet of age to take the throne.  However, there is something interesting, here in the relationship between Yamato Bime and Ohotomo.  Because while Yamato Bime was the queen, and daughter, herself, of Furubito no Oe, Ohotomo was not clearly of the proper parentage.  He was not Yamato Bime's son – she had no children herself - , but  his mother was simply a “palace woman” named “Iga no Uneme no Yakako”.  This suggests that she was an uneme from Iga named Yakako, and we are given no details about her parentage.    She is also listed as the last of Naka no Oe's consorts, suggesting to the reader that she was the lowest in status. For this reason Ohotomo is known as the Iga Royal Prince, Iga no Miko. Of course, there are plenty of reasons why the Chroniclers might not want to give any glory to Prince Ohotomo or his mother.  After all, the story works out best if Ohoama should have just been the sovereign all along.  And this could all be technically true—the best kind of true—while also omitting key details so that the reader draws a certain inference.  The Chroniclers were pulling from lots of different sources, and you didn't have to do a lot of changing things when you could just not put them in in the first place.  In other cases we know that they changed the records, because we see them using anachronistic language that doesn't make sense if drawn from a contemporary record. And so we have at least a couple of theories of what might be going on here, beyond just the straight narrative.   One idea is that Naka no Oe wanted Ohotomo to inherit all along, and perhaps he thought Ohoama could be a regent to help him out once Naka no Oe passed away.  Or maybe he just wanted Ohoama out of the way.  There is also the theory that the Nihon Shoki is, in fact, correct, that Naka no Oe wanted to give the state to Ohoama, but the latter refused, either misunderstanding Naka no Oe's intentions or perhaps gauging the feeling at court—perhaps it wasn't Naka no Oe that Ohoama was worried about, but rather some of the high nobles and officials?   It is probably telling that Ohoama's reported solution was to have Yamato-bime act as regent, with Ohotomo eventually inheriting. Whatever the actual reason, Ohoama declined Ohoama headed off to self-imposed exile in Yoshino. Meanwhile, back in Afumi in the Ohotsu capital, Ohotsu-kyo, Ohotomo was now the de facto Crown Prince.  We are told that on the 23rd day of the 11th month of 671 he took his place in front of the embroidery figure of Buddha in the Western Hall of the Dairi, the royal quarters of the Ohotsu Palace.  He was attended by the Minister of the Left, Soga no Akaye, the Minister of the Right, Nakatomi no Kane, as well as Soga no Hatayasu, Kose no Hito, and Ki no Ushi.  Taking up an incense burner, Ohotomo made a vow that the six of them would obey the sovereign's commands, lest they be punished by the various Buddhist and local deities. These five ministers, along with Ohotomo, are going to show up again and again.   Moving forward, they would manage the government, and would be generally referred to as the Afumi court. And it is clear that the Chroniclers laid the blame for anything that might happen at their feet. The Afumi court would continue court business as usual, and they were immediately thrown into the thick of it.  For instance, they were likely the ones to entertain the Tang envoys that arrived that same month.  You see, the priest Douku (or possibly “Doubun”), along with Tsukushi no Kimi no Satsuyama, Karashima no Suguri no Sasa, and Nunoshi no Obito no Iwa, had finally made it back from their journey to the mainland.  They brought with them Guo Wucong along with an embassy from the Tang court that numbered approximately 600 members, as well as ambassador Sathek Sonteung, of Silla, with his own embassy of about 1400 people. This enormous entourage sailed in 47 ships, and they had anchored at the island of Hijishima.   The Governor of Tsushima, responsible for being the first line of met with them.  Given then number fo ships, they didn't want it to look like it was a hostile invasion, so the governor sent a letter to  Prince Kurikuma, the viceroy of Tsukushi, to let him know what was happening.  Prince Kurikuma had them send Doubun and others ahead to the capital, so that they could let the court know that a massive embassy had arrived, and to prepare the way for them. However, with the sovereign in extremely poor health, and the court otherwise preoccupied with preparations for what might come next, , they kept the embassy at Tsukushi, for the time being.  We are told that that they sent presents on the 29th for the king of Silla, but no indication of them being brought to the court. Enormous foreign embassies aside, the Afumi court had plenty to deal with close to home.  It didn't help that the day after Ohotomo and the ministers had gathered to make their oaths, a fire broke out in the Ohotsu palace, apparently originating with the third storehouse of the treasury.    Several days later, the five ministers, attending the Crown Prince, Ohotomo, made oaths of loyalty in the presence of Naka no Oe, whose condition was only growing worse.  And four days later, on the third day of the fourth month, Naka no Oe passed away.  He was then temporarily interred in what is referred to as the “New Palace”. And contrary to what Ohoama had suggested, there is no indication that Queen Yamato-bime was installed as any kind of regent.  Instead it seems as if Ohotomo was just jumping in and taking the reins.  Granted, he also had the Council of State to lean on, so there's that.  The Chronicles are pretty quiet for a couple of months after Naka no Oe's death, and then we are told that Adzumi no Muraji no Inashiki was sent to Tsukushi to let the Tang ambassador Guo Wucong know the news.  We are told that on the 18th day of the 3rd month, Guo Wucong, I presume having made it to Ohotsu, publicly mourned the late sovereign.  Three days later, on the 21st, he made obeisance at the court, presumably to Ohotomo, and offered up a box with a letter from the Tang emperor and various presents in token of goodwill for the sovereign of Yamato.  A couple of months later, the Afumi court returned the favor, presenting armor, bows, and arrows as well as cloth, floss, and silk.  Later in that same 5th month, Guo Wucong and his people departed for the continent. And here is where we hit one of the big questions of this whole thing:  Had Ohotomo been formally invested as sovereign, yet?  We clearly see that he had his father's ministers on his side, and they were running things.  Then again, it took years after Takara Hime's death before Naka no Oe, himself, formally stepped up. It is quite possible that Ohotomo was not yet invested, and perhaps that was, in part, because there was another person with a claim who was still alive.  It is hard to say. What we do know is that the consensus opinion for centuries was that Ohotomo was never formally invested as sovereign.  He is certainly seen as having inherited the governance of the kingdom, but he was never considered one of the official sovereigns.  That all changed in relatively recent times.  In fact, it wasn't until 1870, the early years of the Meiji period, that Prince Ohotomo was given a posthumous title and regnal name:  Koubun Tennou.  Today, the Imperial Household Agency and some historians consider Ohotomo to have been an official sovereign, but that isn't everyone.  If he was, though, much what we see would have been happening at his court. That same month that Guo Wucong departed, Prince Ohoama got wind that something hinky was afoot.  Ohoama was residing as a monk in Yoshino, but by all accounts he still had half of his household staff, his wives, and family, all with him.  Also, as the former Crown Prince, he clearly had friends and allies.  After all, he was still a member of the royal household. And so it was in the 5th month that he heard from one Yenewi no Muraji no Wogimi that there was something amiss.  For one thing, the Afumi court had called up laborers to build the tomb for Naka no Oe, but word was that they had issued those so-called laborers with weapons rather than tools.  Wogimi seemed worried that they were preparing to do something about Ohoama.  After all, even though he had theoretically retired from the world, as long as he was alive, he still had a claim on the throne, similar to the problem of Prince Furubito no Oe back in 645. Someone else told Ohoama that they noticed pickets were being set up in various places between the Afumi and Yamato—another sign that the Afumi court was apparently expecting some kind of military action.  Furthermore, the guards at the Uji bridge were no longer allowing supplies bound for Yoshino and Ohoama's household. It seemed clear that something was up, and so Ohoama made an announcement:  while he had renounced the royal dignity and retired from the world, it was only because of his poor health and a desire to live a long and happy life.  If that life was being threatened by forces outside of his control, then why would he let himself be taken quietly? From that point, he seems to have started plotting and gathering  forces of his own, in case things came to a head.  Of course, there are those who suggest that, in truth, Ohoama had been plotting and raising forces ever since he started his exile in Yoshino—or at least since his father passed away.  Indeed, once things kick off, you'll notice how quickly people are levying troops, as if spontaneously deciding to support Ohoama's cause, and I would suggest that there was probably lot of back and forth that we just don't see because it was never recorded. Things reached a tipping point on the 22nd day of the 6th month.  That is when Ohoama gave orders to three of his vassals, Murakami no Muraji no Woyori, Wanibe no Omi no Kimide, and Muketsu no Kimi no Hiro.  He claimed that the Afumi Court was plotting against him, so he asked his vassals to go to the land of Mino—modern Gifu prefecture—and to reach out to Oho no Omi no Honeji, the governor of the Ahachima district hot springs—now the area of Anpachi.  Honeji was to levy soldiers and set them out on the Fuwa road—this was the road from Mino to Afumi, and was one of the few ways in and out of Afumi region. As we've mentioned in the past, the benefit of Ohotsu-kyo was its naturally defended position.  Lake Biwa is surrounded on all sides by mountains, and there were only a few ways in and out.  The Fuwa Pass is at the edge of a location that you may have heard of: today we know that region as Sekigahara.  That is because it was one of several seki, or barriers, set up to help check movements across the archipelago.  To the south, one could also use the Suzuka pass, where there would likewise be set up the Suzuka no Seki, or Suzuka barrier.  Suzuka was accessible from Afumi via the regions of Koga and Iga.  There was also the Afusaka no Seki, between Afumi and the area of modern Kyoto, and the Arachi no Seki, between Afumi and Tsuruga, on the Japan Sea—where many of the Goguryeo missions had arrived. Of these, the Afusaka barrier and the Fuwa barrier were probably the most well known and most heavily traveled.  Control of the Fuwa pass would be critical throughout Japan's history, controlling much of the traffic between eastern and western Japan.  Hence why, over 900 years later, another fight would come to a head here, as the battle of Sekigahara would see Tokugawa Ieyasu's eastern forces defeating the western army of Ishida Mitsunari.  That battle is seen as a decisive victory that birthed the Tokugawa shogunate, who would rule Japan for the next 250 years. So for Ohoama, having Honeji and his men take control of the Fuwa barrier was critical, as it would limit the Afumi court's ability to levy forces in the eastern provinces. A few days later, Ohoama was himself about to move out,  but his advisors stopped him.  They were worried about heading east without an army, yet.  Ohoama agreed, and he wished that he hadn't sent Woyori out just yet—Woyori was someone he trusted, militarily.  Instead, however, he had to make do.  And so he had Ohokida no Kimi no Yesaka, Kibumi no Muraji no Ohotomo, and Afu no Omi no Shima go to Prince Takasaka, who was in charge of the Wokamoto Palace in Asuka, and apply for posting bells—the tokens that would allow him and others use the various official post stations to supply them with provisions as they traveled.  Speaking of this palace,  although the court had moved to Ohotsu, a palace was maintained in Asuka.  After all, this was still seen as the “ancient capital” and the home to a lot of powerful families, so it makes sense that the royal family kept the palace in working order.  It also appears to have functioned as the local government headquarters for the region, with Prince Takasaka, or Takasaka no Ou, at its head. Asking for the posting bells was a test by Ohoama.  If he received them, then great, it would give him the ability to travel to the east, where he could presumably raise troops to protect himself.  However, if Prince Takasaka refused, then that would be a sign that the Afumi government had, indeed, sent word that Ohoama was not supposed to go anywhere.  If that was to happen, then Afu no Shima would return to Yoshino to let Ohoama know, while Ohokida no Yesaka would go to Afumi to tell Ohoama's sons, Prince Takechi and Prince Ohotsu, to make haste and meet him in Ise. Sure enough, Prince Takasaka refused the posting bells, and so, on the 24th of the 6th month, Prince Ohoama made the decision to move.  They left quickly—he didn't even let anyone saddle a horse for him or prepare his carriage.  He just started to head out on foot on a journey to the East. That journey would set in motion the coming conflagration.  Ohoama and his allies would quickly gather their forces in an incredibly short period of time, starting with a daring trek across the mountainous path between Yoshino and the land of Ise.  At the same time, the Afumi court would levy their own forces.  It was now a race for people and positions.  And to see how that race progressed, I'll ask you to tune in next episode, when we take a look at the opening moves in the war for the throne of Yamato.Until then, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

1. Slepé uličky Matúša Šutaja Eštoka. 2. Amerika prestáva byť krajinou slobodných, môžu to zistiť aj študenti zo Slovenska. 3. O petržalskej kauze nepetržalskými očami.

Episode note: the recording froze around the 31 minute mark, so you may hear a short piece cut out.  Join the Dojo - https://chessdojo.club Watch Live - https://twitch.tv/chessdojo Play Chess - https://go.chess.com/chessdojo In this episode, the sensei review their previous top 10 predictions for June 2025, evaluating their accuracy against the actual FIDE rankings. They also make new predictions for June 2026, highlighting rising stars like Gukesh and Arjun while debating the future potential of players like Firouzja, Niemann, and Nakamura. Merch - https://www.chessdojo.club/shop Want to support the channel? Patreon - https://patreon.com/chessdojo Donate - https://streamelements.com/chessdojo/tip Find all of our chess book & supplies recommendations (& more!) on our Amazon storefront: https://www.amazon.com/shop/chessdojo Shopping through our link is a great way to support the Dojo. We earn a small affiliate % but at no cost to you. Website: https://chessdojo.club Twitch: https://twitch.tv/chessdojo Discord: https://discord.gg/GhKsJtjpFw Twitter: https://twitter.com/chessdojo Patreon: https://patreon.com/chessdojo Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chessdojo Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chessdojo Podcast: https://chessdojotalks.podbean.com TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@/chessdojoclips 00:00 – Introduction 01:17 – June 2025 FIDE Top 10 03:09 – Firouzja Correctly Predicted to Enter Top 10 04:20 – Decline of Nepomniachtchi, So, and Anand 06:43 – Misses on Abdusattorov and Other Juniors 07:50 – Firouzja's Struggles and Unfulfilled Potential 12:38 – Start of 2026 Top 10 Predictions 14:41 – Controversial Pick at #10 25:04 – Will Magnus Stay Ranked with Minimal Games? 33:32 – Debating the Top 5: Naka, Gukesh, Arjun, Fabi 46:59 – Final Dojo Composite Top 10 List for 2026 53:03 – Wrap-Up & Patreon Support Appeal

Before Hawaiʻi was annexed by the United States in 1898, the nation was led by a constitutional monarchy and was recognized as an independent kingdom. Before Hawai'i's last monarch, Queen Lili'uokalani, was overthrown by non-native American businessmen in 1893, the queen sent a royally-charted Hula troupe to the World's Columbian Exposition to share the culture and stories of Kanaka Maoli, or Native Hawaiians. This is just the beginning of the community's history in Chicago. In honor of Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, Reset learns more about Hawaiian migration to Chicago, the legacy of Hula and reclaiming the culture with executive director of Aloha Center Chicago Lanialoha Lee, hula teacher, visual artist and co-curator of Chicago's Legacy Hula exhibit at the Field Museum Napuahinano Sumberg and education committee chair of the Ke Ali`i Victoria Ka`iulani Hawaiian Civic Club-Chicago and Associate Director for Outreach & Strategy at the Newberry Library Kahakulani Blaisdell For a full archive of Reset interviews, head over to wbez.org/reset.