Podcasts about Nakatomi

The Dazai no Sochi--the head of the Yamato government in Kyushu--was a powerful position, with a lot of autonomy with lucrative opportunities.  The people in this position were often powerful members of the court capable of representing the sovereign.  They would often go on to become quite powerful in their own right.  So who were the movers and shakers that held this prestigious position during Uno no Sarara's reign?  This episode, we take a look at those who held the position and those who supported them. For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-151 PS:  Hang around to the end (or check the end of the transcript) for information on some possible updates coming to the show. Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 151: The Dazai no Sochi of the late 7th century   Tsukushi no Masaru was busy.  A new boss was coming in, and he wanted to make sure everything was prepared.  The Dazai may have been about as far as one could get from the capital and still be in Yamato, but it was also the first—and sometimes only—encounter some would have with the archipelago, so there was no excuse to be slacking off.  Of course, this was hardly his first new boss, though for as long as he'd been on the job, each one could well be his last.  He was getting a bit long in the tooth, after all.  Twenty-nine years was a long time to be working in the same position.  As Masaru paused, he thought back on some of the people he'd served.  There was Soga no Akae—he was ambitious.  Apparently he'd been in some rather compromising positions before coming out, but he'd done well enough when he went back.  Shame that he backed the wrong horse. That did bring a chuckle to old Masaru's throat, though.  He remembered when Prince Kurikuma had come out there, to the the Dazai, , and there were still people around who told stories of him.  When those Afumi court stooges had showed up to try and conscript the barrier guards, Prince Kurikuma and his sons just stared them down.  Everyone had been afraid that it would end in bloodshed, or at least that there would be consequences for defying the court, but Kurikuma was adamant, and the messenger had left with his tail firmly between his legs. Then there was Shima. By the time he came, Masaru already knew how everything was supposed to work. He may not have been in charge, but that wasn't his ambition.  It was enough for him to be good at what he did.  He didn't need to go all the way to the Palace and deal with the politics there—there were enough politics out here already.  Shima, though, he was clearly suited for that Palace life.  He was a capable administrator, but Masaru could tell he was ambitious.  When he left, everyone knew that he would be going on to bigger and better things. And now there was another Prince coming out. So they would get the government offices prepared and greet him with proper fanfare.  They'd bring him in and hold the ceremonies, and then they would get down to work.  A stream of officers would present him with what they were working on and what had to happen.  Masaru would be there to help make sure that everything was running smoothly and nothing got too out of hand.  And that was the way things worked out on the edge of the realm.   Welcome back to Sengoku Daimyo.  We are still covering the reign of Uno no Sarara, and, similar to last episode, we are going to continue to talk about the people who made up Yamato at this time.  This episode, more specifically, we are going to be turning away from the capital, in Asuka, and looking all the way over to Tsukushi—modern Kyushu—and at the people who served as Dazai no Sochi, or head of the local government out there, as well as the bureaucrats and staff that worked for them—at least as far we know.  Many of them went on to have considerable careers that took them well beyond Kyushu.  At the same time, we'll take a look at some of the things that happened under their rule as what Aston translates as the "Viceroy of Tsukushi". After that, I have a special announcement about the podcast at the end of the episode, so if you are interested in learning more about what we plan on doing, please listen all the way to the end to hear about some plans for the future. And with that out of the way, let's begin. So we are talking about the position of Dazai no Sochi or the Viceroy of Tsukushi.  Often these people are referred to only as being of the "Tsukushi no Dazai" or the "Tsukushi no Ohomochi".  The term "Sochi" appears later, and we first see this term applied to Prince Kawachi, in 689.  It seems to show up with two different characters, which might be a term from the later Taihou code that was retroactively applied or may refer to an evolution of the position over time.  I'm honestly not sure.  There is still plenty of confusion over what was meant in some of the references. We've discussed this position before on the podcast: This was the sovereign's representative to the world outside of the archipelago.  Not only did the Dazai no Sochi  oversee all of Tsukushi—all of Kyushu— and extensive defensive forces stationed there and in the outlying islands, but they oversaw all diplomatic and trade missions to and from the archipelago.  Envoy missions would come to Tsushima, where they would get a local pilot and send word ahead.  They would then be received at the government center, the Dazai, near modern Fukuoka and Hakata bay.  For most envoys, this was as close as they would ever get to Yamato proper.  They would offload their goods there and be put up at the government supplied quarters in Wogohori.  They would be wined and dined there, entertained as appropriate to their status, while word was sent on to the capital.  In rare cases, envoys would be sent on another journey through the inland sea to Naniwa, and then on to Asuka, but otherwise their journey would end at the Dazaifu.  Any return gifts would come back with the correspondence from the capital, and thus be handed out to the envoys and their escorts before the mission was sent back home to Silla, Tamna, or wherever they had come from. Being the middle man in this operation offered a lot of power and authority, but it also would have been quite lucrative.  While diplomatic missions brought gifts for the court, they also brought  trade goods, of which the Dazai no Sochi could have first  pick.  This is on top of the fact that this position often came with a stipend equaling the labor of hundreds of individuals.  Many of the Dazai no Sochi would serve limited terms, eventually returning to Asuka, where we see them take on powerful positions. Take, for example, our first Dazai no Sochi, Tajihi no Mabito no Shima. Tajihi no Shima was born, we are told, in or around 624 to Tajihi no Maro and a daughter of Ohotomo no Hirafu.  Tajihi no Maro, Shima's father was a powerful noble in the court of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, and he had enough standing that he was one of the named individuals who provided eulogies for Ohoama on the occasion of his passing.   The Tajihi family were quite well placed: they were descendants of Hinokuma no Takata no Miko, aka Senka Tennou, Shima's great-grandfather.  This earned them the kabane of "Mabito", or "True Person" because of their royal lineage.   Tajihi no Shima was placed in charge of the Dazai from at least 682.  His predecessor that we know about is Prince Yagaki, who was dismissed around 676, and we don't know who filled the gap between him and Shima. Shima had quite the run.  We don't know exactly when he returned to the court in Asuka, but it cannot have been later than 689, when we see Awada no Mahito in the position.  A year later, in 690, Shima was made Udaijin, or minister of the right.  That's a huge deal and we will talk about that in a bit, but what did Shima actually oversee during his tenure as Dazai no Sochi? We have quite a few events attributed to him, this reign.  In 686, we see the Tsukushi no Dazai sending tribute in the form of human beings:  Common men and women of Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla, along with 62 priests and nuns.  We aren't told where these men and women came from, but I suspect that they were refugees or captives from all the fighting on the peninsula.  That they were given as tribute suggests to me that they were enslaved—or at the very least they were not free.  If they were uneducated, they were likely put to work as labor, perhaps building out the new capital or opening new farmlands.  Later we see the various missions from Silla around the death of Ohoama, and the back and forth that went on, there, and in 688 the Tsukushi no Dazai entertained Kara, a Minister of Tamna, aka modern Jeju island, who had been sent by the king of that small country.  You may recall that Tamna, while late to the game, may have been one of the last holdouts of an early Japonic speaking people outside of the archipelago. Being the Tsukushi no Dazai, Shima would not have only been concerned with foreign envoys, but also with two other groups of Hayato—specifically the Ohosumi no Hayato and the Ata no Hayato.  Little is known about them, other than that Yamato considered them to be distinct ethnic and cultural groups living in the far south of Kyushu.  We've talked before about how southern Kyushu maintained a significantly different material culture through Kofun period until more recent times.  We also have indication that they had a distinctive shield and even art style—the famous "Hayato shields" appear to have been appropriated by the court, along with a contingent of Hayato men that were expected to act as an exotic guard for the sovereign and the court.  The earliest reliable evidence we have for them is a record from 682.  There are some questions as to whether or not they were related to the groups previously called Kumaso or even the Tsuchigumo, but there is no clear historical or archaeological  evidence linking them other than the common cultural finds in Kyushu more generally. The Ata and Ohosumi Hayato may have been distinct clans or lineage groups living in Ohosumi and the area of modern Satsuma.  We have a record in 687 of the Ata no Hayato attending Ohoama's funeral and presenting a eulogy.  The chiefs who came brought 337 others—a sizeable contingent—and they were all given presents by the court.  Later, we would see presents given out to 174 Hayato by Shima's successor in the Dazai, Awada no Mahito, and then in 692 we know that the court sent priests to preach Buddhism to Ata and Ohosumi.    In 695, Hayato of Ohosumi were entertained in the capital, and they even held a wrestling match for the Queen and her attendants in the area west of Asukadera, by the site of the famous Tsuki tree. So the Hayato would have been another group that Shima no doubt dealt with on a somewhat regular basis in his capacity as Dazi no Sochi—and then later on when he returned to Asuka and took up his new role as Udaijin.   And as I mentioned, that appointment was a Big Deal.  The position of Udaijin had been vacant since Nakatomi no Kane, one of the infamous leaders of the Afumi court, was non-consensually removed from the position—and this plane of existence—when he was executed in 672, at the closure of the Jinshin no Ran.  After that, Ohoama appears to have been gun-shy about sharing power with anyone outside the royal family.  The position had been left vacant for about 18 years.  So what made Uno no Sarara take up Shima as Minister of the Right?  And what about the Minister of the Left, or the Sadaijin? Well, we don't have a Sadaijin, but we do have a Dajodaijin in the form of Prince Takechi, Ohoama's first-born son.  The Dajodaijin was the Prime Minister in charge of the entire Dajokan, the Council of State, made up of the ministers of the left and right and the 8 bureaus of the government.  The Sadaijin and Udaijin served under the Dajodaijin, in that hierarchical order, with the Sadaijin generally being considered higher in precedence.  So it looks like, in this case, they had the Dajodaijin, Prince Takechi to run the Council and Shima, as Udaijin would have been responsible for ensuring the administration of the eight bureaus was properly carried out. That Shima was appointed just under Prince Takechi again shows the power and influence he likely had and the trust he must have had from Uno no Sarara.  Remember, the Crown Prince, Kusakabe, had died before he could take the throne.  Uno was enthroned as Queen, while the Crown Prince, Karu, was still a minor.  Whereas Ohoama had his wife and many sons to help him run things, Uno no Sarara was running thin.  As had been seen with Prince Ohotsu, there was always the threat that one of Ohoama's other sons could be propped up on the throne.  Uno had to look after Karu's birthright, but there was no guarantee that he would make it to adulthood in times before modern medicine.  It appears that Prince Takechi was actually considered the next in line, just in case something happened to Karu before he could ascend the throne, which makes sense that Prince Takechi was also trusted as Dajo Daijin.  Shima's place as Udaijin must have been indicative of similar trust that he would look after the royal family's interests.  This was no doubt helped by the role he played as Dazai no Sochi. As Udajin, Tajihi no Shima went on to have a rather incredible career.  He was given 4 cho of land for his residence.  This appears to be around 10 acres or so—a not inconsiderable amount of land, and it probably refers to the amount of land he was granted in the new Fujiwara capital city.  Later, in the Nara capital of Heijo-kyo, Prince Nagaya's residence was about that size and Fujiwara no Nakamaro's residence is thought to have been about twice that.  This would have given Shima space for multiple buildings, sprawling gardens, servants quarters, quarters for his wives and children, and much more. Tajihi no Shima would continue in his role as Udaijin, and would eventually, be promoted to the position of Sadaijin, a post he held only briefly, as he passed away almost a year later. He was not forgotten, however.  It is thought that he was the model for one of the suitors of Kaguya Hime in the famous story of Taketori Monogatari—the tale of the Bamboo Cutter.  Taketori Monogatari, also known as Kaguya Hime Monogatari, is considered the oldest known story in the Monogatari form.  It was probably written in the late 9th or early 10th century, with references to it appearing in works as early as 909 CE.  This suggests that Tajihi no Shima and others were still remembered, at least in part, over a century later. Shima is also thought to have been the patron of the famous poet, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, one of the famous 36 immortal poets.  We'll have to include Hitomaro in a later episode, though we might come back to him after this reign, as he isn't mentioned in the Chronicles, but we do have some fragmentary biographical information thanks to his inclusion in the Man'yoshu.  In fact, he's probably one of the most famous poets in the Man'yoshu who is not otherwise mentioned.  We are told that he was the court poet during the reign of Uno no Sarara, so it makes sense that Shima may have very well been his patron and helped him get his start. Now while Shima was back in Asuka, making it big in the court, the position of Tsukushi no Dazai had to be filled, and we are told that the mantle was taken up by Awada no Mahito no Ason.  This name is a bit tricky, as it seems to have two kabane:  Mahito and Ason.  Since his father is said to have been Kasuga no Awada no Omi no Kudara, the assumption seems to be that "Mahito" was his name, rather than his kabane.  Although it was likely pronounced "Mabito" at the time, I'm going to go with the modern pronunciation of "Mahito" in part to distinguish it from the kabane.  A quick side note:  When reading names from this period, we usually see the kabane coming right after the family name, as the kabane is basically a rank for the family and not the individual.  But we do occasionally see the kabane tacked on at the end of a name, as in Awada no Mahito's case.  I would also like to quickly draw your attention to his father's name:  Kudara.  That can also be read as Baekje.  Was this an indication that his father or an ancestor came from the continent, perhaps from Baekje?  Or just that he had close ties to that kingdom?  I couldn't find anything specific, but it seems interesting that he was put in place at the Dazai, where dealing with the continent would have been an important part of his duties. Awada no Mahito was not just a noble of the court, and even if his father was of Baekje descent, that may not have been the main thing that gained him the position.  It may have also had to do with an earlier incident.  We are told that in 653 Mahito was one of those who traveled with the 2nd envoy to the Tang court as a scholar monk.  He would later return to secular life, but that experience must have been a big feather in his cap, helping him land a good position at court.  In fact, in 685, we are told that he was Jikikwoushi rank—a fairly respectable position for anyone at the time—and he apparently tried to get his father raised to the same rank as he was.  Aston translates the record as saying he was willing to give his rank to his father, but it is unclear to me if this means he was offering to give up his rank altogether.  At the very least it seems that he felt awkward outranking his father—a good, filial attitude, it would seem.  However, Ohoama didn't care.  In the past, rank may have been given to entire families, but now the court was giving rank to individuals, and the rank Mahito had earned was his, not his father's.  And so his request was denied. Four years later, Ohoama was gone and Awada no Mahito was sent to the Tsukushi no Dazai.  We are told that he was in that position as of 689.  If that was the position of Dazai no Sochi, however, he didn't hold it for long, as Prince Kawachi was raised up to that position that same year, and here we have a bit of a conundrum.  Mahito is only mentioned as "Tsukushi no Dazai" while Prince Kawachi is specifically mentioned, at least twice, as Tsukushi no Dazai no Sochi.  There are some who suggest that Mahito may have been the Dazai Daini, an assistant to the Dazai no Sochi—effectively the second-in-command it would appear.  This makes some sense, when you consider it, and he may even have been acting Dazai no Sochi until Prince Kawachi was appointed. Of course, because our records are quite lackluster, and we are never actually told when Tajihi no Shima left the position, it is possible that Awada no Mahito was actually the Dazai Sochi for many years leading up to 689, and that Shima had returned to Asuka some time ago.  This is the problem with the way things are written—sometimes they mention a name and sometimes just a position, and rarely do they mention when someone stepped down. Still, Mahito oversaw a few things that we can be somewhat sure about as they happened after he is first mentioned in the position, though it was all in the same year.  For one thing, he is the one who presented gifts to the 174 Hayato in the first month of 689.  This included cloth, ox hides, and deerskins.  He was also there when the Queen sent relief to the Barrier Wardens whose terms were up.  These were the Sakimori, a position set up to defend the archipelago and repel any potential invasions.  I would assume they were regularly rotated out, especially if they were expected to man the fortifications out on some of the islands.  It is interesting that we don't often see them referenced, so it isn't clear to me why the reference was made here—it may have just been a note in one of the sources the Chroniclers were using. Later that same year, we also see garments being given out—likely meaning official court clothing—to the Tsukushi Dazai and others.  This was probably to bring them all in line with the latest formal wear being used in the court in Asuka.  We also know that in the 6th month of that year they entertained the Silla envoys, who were given various presents. And then, two months later, Mahito is out and Prince Kawachi comes in.  At the same time that Prince Kawachi is being made the Dazai no Sochi, our previous Dazai no Sochi, Tajihi no Shima, had his rank and fief increased.   I doubt this was a coincidence, and it is one of the things that, for me, lends credence to the idea that Shima had just then returned to Asuka and Prince Kawachi was his replacement, suggesting that Mahito had really just been in an acting capacity while the change over was taking place. Unfortunately, if we were looking for more information about Prince Kawachi's background, we would be disappointed.  Although he is a prince, probably descended from Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou, we don't have a lot about him.  He—or someone with the same name, since we do see these Princely titles get reused, it seems—is found in the reign of Ohoama traveling with Ohotomo no Yasumaro and Fujiwara no Ohoshima to go entertain Gim Jisyang of Silla.  Later we see a Prince Kawachi delivering eulogies during Ohoama's funeral.  That suggests he held an important position, and that he was somewhat familiar with the continent, but we don't get a whole lot more.  Our next evidence is when he was appointed to the post of Dazai no Sochi in 689, a position he would hold until his death in 694—which may also explain why we just don't see too much of him in the record.  A promising career may have been cut short, as happened all too often back in that day and age. Still, as Dazai no Sochi, he had plenty to keep him busy.  Not a month after he arrived, Isonokami no Maro and Ishikawa no Mishina arrived at the head of a delegation.  They were there to deliver patents of rank to members of the Tsukushi government and to inspect the fortifications at the edge of the archipelago.  These were the same fortifications being manned by the newly arrived Sakimori. Speaking of the members of the Tsukushi government, it took a lot of people to make the Dazaifu work, not just the Sochi giving people orders about what they should do.  There were numerous assistants helping to keep everything running.  Some of them would have just been dealing with the Sochi's own residence, while others were clerks, guards, and more.  It really was a miniature version of the court in Asuka, and would have required a lot of people to tend to it.  And we know of at least one of them:  Tsukushi no Fubito no Masaru, whose imagined thoughts we heard at the top of the episode.  In 691, Masaru was recognized for 29 years of service as a secretary to the Tsuksuhi no Dazai.  Twenty-nine years in place suggests to me that he would have likely been one of the longest serving members of the Tsukushi government center.  He would have known where all the bodies were buried—perhaps quite literally.  While the Dazai no Sochi was often a temporary appointment, sometimes just for a few years, they would have likely leaned on Masaru for his expertise.  This is just like how modern government appointees like ambassadors may come and go, including for political reasons, but they rely on permanent staff, including a lot of locals, to provide the institutional knowledge they need to do their jobs.  One can assume that if Masaru had been successful for 29 years he knew how things were supposed to work.  And so I hope that his superiors made sure to remember that when Secretary's day rolled around. Prince Kawachi didn't make it 29 years, but he made it five.  He might have gone even longer, but he died in office in 694 and was posthumously raised in rank for his service.  History is full of stories, but in real life, the stories don't always follow the expected narratives.  As much as we'd like to think otherwise, good, moral people do not always triumph and sometimes those who do awful things are never punished.  And some times stories come to abrupt ends.  Of course, looking back, it just is what it is.  Prince Kawachi's life becomes little more than a footnote.  And yet, what if he had gone on?  Would he have followed Tajihi no Shima to help become one of the grand ministers of the court?  Unfortunately, we will never know.  He could have been a rising star, but we just know about his passing. Five months after Prince Kawachi's untimely death, he was followed in the post by Prince Mino.  Prince Mino would continue in the position, it seems, through the end of the reign in 697—or at least nobody else was appointed until 700, when Isonokami no Maro—apparently the same one who had previously come out to inspect the fortifications during Prince Kawachi's tenure—was appointed.  Although he came into the position in the next reign, we'll still touch on him, as he was another notable figure at this time. Looking back at Prince Mino, however, we seem to run into a problem—there are too many Princes Mino in the record.  If you just use the English translations, you'll find several references to Prince Mino, but if you look at the original text, you'll see that there are at least three different spellings.  For one it means "Beautiful Field" and another is just "Three Fields".  A third "Mino" is spelled with characters that don't necessarily create obvious meaning, and may just be a phonetic spelling. It is possible that all of these Princes Mino are the same.  Spelling wasn't standard, and different characters could be used for the same name.  On the other hand, we have one set of characters being used to describe a Prince Mino who supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, while another, the "Three Fields" Prince Mino, describes one of the sons of Prince Kurikuma, who was with his father in Tsukushi when the Afumi court came calling.  Since travel wasn't necessarily an overnight endeavor—unless you were Ohoama, rushing through the mountains to the east—it would seem that the Prince Mino in Tsukushi is unlikely to be the same one as the Prince Mino who joined Ohoama's forces back in the Home Provinces. So let's make the assumption that Prince Mino—Prince "Three Fields" Mino—is one person and the others are separate.  What do we know about him? Well, he appears to have had experience with Tsukushi and the government out  there, since he would be the son of Prince Kurikuma, a former Tsukushi Dazai no Sochi.  We talked about Prince Kurikuma before, back in numerous episodes, but particularly in episodes 128 and Episode 144, as well as references in betweend. Prince Kurikuma was not only a significant factor in the outcome of the Jinshin no Ran, denying the Afumi court the resources of all of the defenders at the Tsukushi fortifications, he shows up in local legends in Tsukushi still today.  So he definitely seems to have had an impact on the region.  It also suggests that Prince Mino had connections in the area through his father. After his father's posting as Dazai no Sochi ended, Prince Mino appears to have returned with him to Asuka.  He is described as a key member in Ohoama's court.  He was one of the Princes mentioned in the audience at the Daigokuden in 681, when Ohoama instituted the commission to bring together the various court sources that we presume would eventually lead to the creation of the Chronicles—the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.  Later, he become a daibu, a high official, of the Household Bureau, responsible for the household of the sovereign, the sumera no mikoto.  This meant the upkeep of the palace, the kitchens, and the various servants waiting on the sovereign and his family.  This also means that he was likely close to the movers and shakers of the court. One of the projects under his purview appears to have been the laying out of a new palace and a new capital city.  In 682 he headed up the investigations at the place called Nihiki, determining that it would be a good location for what would eventually become Fujiwara-kyo—a project still underway in Queen Uno's reign.  He was also sent out to Shinano two years later to look for a site for a second capital.  It ended up not happening, but he spent a couple months and eventually came back with a map of the region.  It may be that the Fujiwara-kyo project took up a lot of Mino's time and effort, because we then don't hear from him for another decade, during which Ohama passed away and so much more happened.  Assuming he was still involved with the Fujiwara capital project, however, we see that in 691 there was a ceremony held for the tranquility of the new capital—a Chin-sai or, what we would today call a "Ji-chin-sai".  This is a "land pacification ceremony" done when breaking ground on a new building or other project.  So it looks like planning and land clearing had taken some 10 years, but it was finally ready to get started.  Later that same year we hear of them laying out the residences of high ranking nobles, like the Udaijin, Tajihi no Shima, and we also see the Queen inspecting the roads.  Then, a year later in 692, they were holding the land pacification ceremony for the new palace.  The queen would move into the new palace in the very last months of 694. But by that time, Prince Mino was on to his next assignment.  He had been appointed Tsukushi Dazai no Sochi earlier that year following the death of Prince Kawachi.  Not much more is said of Tsukushi for the next three years of the reign, but we do see the Hayato visiting Asuka, presumably with Prince Mino's assistance. We don't have a clear idea of when Prince Mino retired—it's certainly not in the Nihon Shoki—but we know that he did because he was succeeded in the role by none other than Isonokami no Maro, who would take up the position in 700.  Prince Mino, on the other hand, returned to the court, where he would eventually pass away in the year 708. And that was the last Dazai no Sochi who held the position during this reign, but I do want to talk about the one who came after Prince Mino just a bit—though more because this was an up-and-coming court noble whom we should be watching. Isonokami no Maro was born, by all accounts, in the year 640.  Despite his name he was actually born to a family that we know somewhat well from much earlier on: The Mononobe.  In fact, his father is apparently Mononobe no Muraji no Umaro, and he appears to be descended from the main line of the Mononobe family, which had declined ever since Mononobe no Moriya had been defeated and killed by Soga no Umako and others. And it seems that the Mononobe curse of being on the losing side in a contest for power hit Maro during the Jinshin no Ran, because we see him, at that time referenced as Mononobe no Muraji no Maro, along with two servants, or Toneri, serving Prince Ohotomo—aka Koubun Tennou—up to the very end.  In fact, when Ohotomo fled and the Afumi court deserted him, only Mononobe no Maro and the servants stayed with him when he eventually strangled himself. And one would think that would be it.   You were with the rival for the throne in the most contentious fight in recent memory.  You couldn't protect him and you were on the wrong side.  Sure, Ohoama was going to pardon you because he couldn't just rid himself of half of the court and hope things would still run smoothly—that would be a surefire recipe for disaster, and nobody wanted the government crippled like that.  However, you can't imagine that those on the losing side would be given any position of trust or authority. And yet, in 676, we see that Mononobe no Maro was sent to Silla.  And he wasn't just helping out: he was sent as the chief envoy of Ohoama's court.  That is quite the turnaround in four years, and we don't really know why, but it has been speculated that Ohoama was actually impressed.  While other members of the Afumi court fled and abandoned Ohotomo to his enemies, Maro and the two toneri with him did not, staying with Ohotomo until the bitter end, and likely conveying what had happened to the other side once it was all over.   That kind of loyalty was impressive, especially back then. It is also thought that Maro may have benefited from the fact that Enoi no Okimi, who was also descended from the Mononobe family, fought on the side of Ohoama.  This is a common scenario we see throughout Japanese history, where different members of the same family fight on different sides of a conflict, often meaning that no matter who wins the family can still claim to have been on the winning side.  When Okimi passed away in 676 he was posthumously recognized as the ujigami, or clan head, of the Mononobe, leading some to suspect that a bit of his shine may have rubbed off on Maro as well. In 684, when the various kabane were being rectified by Ohoama's court, the Mononobe no Muraji were included as Ason, or Asaomi.  There is some thought that around this time is when Maro changed his name to Isonokami, which is a name that was previously used by members of the Mononobe, including one of the brothers to Mononobe no Moriya.  We see him mentioned as Isonokami no Maro in 686, as one of those giving a eulogy for Ohoama: specifically he gives the eulogy on behalf of the Houkan, or Nori no Tsukasa, the Judicial officers.  He is mentioned right after Fuse no Miushi, whom we talked about last episode, who would go on to become a Dainagon and, later, Udaijin, or Minister of the Right. The first connection between Isonokami no Maro and Tsukushi was in 689, and we noted it earlier—he came out to inspect the fortifications as well as to hand out patents of rank to the court officials working out there on the edge of the realm.    He would return to Asuka in time to be a part of Uno no Sarara's official enthronement ceremonies.  There he is named Mononobe no Maro, and is in charge of the shields.  Given what we know of the role of the Mononobe as the early soldiers of the court, it makes sense that he would play this role, and that they would use the name Mononobe rather than Isonokami.  In the same way, the ritual was conducted by Fujiwara no Ohoshima, but he is recorded as Nakatomi no Ohoshima, probably because these were roles specifically for the Mononobe and Nakatomi, rather than for the Isonokami and the Fujiwara. This is another thing that can be quite frustrating when researching Japanese history—names can change at the drop of a hat, and people often had various ancestral names and titles that could be pulled out for various political or ceremonial reasons.  If you don't have the history or understand the nuance it can be easy to just think that it is a different person altogether.  And when you don't have much information, sometimes you have to ask yourself which is it? Maro would stay close to Queen Uno, even accompanying her to Ise shrine, and then, in the following reign, he would succeed Prince Mino as Dazai no Sochi in the year 700.  It isn't clear, however, if he left for the Dazaifu immediately, since in 701 he is noted as having been promoted from the office of Chunagon to Dainagon, and in that same year he went with Royal Prince Osakabe to pay respects at the house of the late Udaijin, Tajihi no Shima, who had just passed away.  He then left for Tsukushi in 702—or possibly headed back.  But in 703, he was once again back in Asuka, paying condolences on the death of the next Udaijin, Abe no Miushi—aka Fuse no Miushi, the same one whom Maro had pronounced a Eulogy with during the funeral ceremonies for Ohoama.  Isonokami no Maro would go on to take the mantle of Udaijin, and then eventually Sadaijin as well.  He would be raised up to the second rank, along with the famous Fujiwara no Fubito, who took the vacated position of Udaijin.  This meant that technically Maro was the senior of the two, though many people think that Fujiwara no Fubito held most of the actual power.  Regardless of that, Isonokami no Maro nonetheless would go on to become the highest ranking court noble before his eventual death in 717.  At that point he was 78 years old, by the reckoning of the day, and he had seen multiple sovereigns, several bloody conflicts, and the creation of two permanent capitals—Fujiwara kyo and Heijo kyo, in modern Nara.  He went from being a supporter in the Afumi court, on the wrong side of the Jinshin no Ran to become the highest ranking court noble in the land.  He would be granted the head of the Mononobe family and would continue to prosper as Isonokami.  It was truly a remarkable career over an incredible span of time. And there you have it.  A look at some of those that were sent out to the Dazaifu in Tsukushi.  In later years, the post of Dazai no Sochi would be seen more as a burden than a blessing, but at this point it was still a lucrative and powerful position.  Several of those involved in the Dazaifu or who held the position as Dazai no Sochi would go on to even more powerful positions back in Asuka.  Whilst this posting did move you further away from the politics—perhaps not always a bad thing—it also put you atop a structure where one had considerable power, authority, and autonomy, at least at this point. Next episode we'll get back to the court in Asuka and take a look at a little more of what is going on.  Before I end this, however, a quick administrative note about the podcast.  This creation is a labor of love.  It was started largely as a way to get myself to regularly dive into the Chronicles and really see what was going on.  In particular, I was excited about the Asuka period, because I don't think we really have enough of a sense of what life was like and what was going on back then.  It was clearly a very dynamic time, and yet we tend to see it through the lens of later Nara and Heian court culture, which was still very much evolving.  The stories that I *didn't* know about were what drew me to this project, and I hope that we've all learned a bit more as the project has continued. And we are reaching the end of the area that is covered by the main Chronicles, the Kojiki, the Nihon Shoki, and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, which have been our main guides through this period.  But that doesn't mean we are bringing things to a close. Next we have the Shoku Nihongi and many other grecords, and I am going to keep up with the project and the schedule as best I can.  In fact, it looks like I may be able to devote even more time to it in the near future as some drastic life changes are coming for me, such that I will no longer be working a 9-to-5 job while also trying to get this podcast out like clockwork twice a month—not to mention my other passion, teaching traditional Japanese martial arts here in the DC region at a local not-for-profit dojo.  This is happening as we are also in the process of building a house, traveling, and more.  But it does mean that we are going to be looking into alternative sources of funding beyond just donations.  We are eternally grateful to everyone who has donated, but I may end up doing something that I've been putting off for a while: allowing advertisements.  I want to do this so that we can continue to offer this for podcast for free, but hosting, staying up to date on sources, etc. does cost money.  I'm not looking to make a huge profit, but if we can at least get the podcast paying for itself, that would be a good start. Before I do that I'll look to find a way that we can get subscribers on Patreon and elsewhere ad-free copy.  I just need to figure that out, but once I do, I'll let you all know. So there you have it.  We aren't going to stop the podcast, but we may be adding a bit more to it in the future.  I hope, though, that we can do more beyond the historical chronicles.  For instance, did you know that we have an English translation of a 17th century cookbook up on our website, SengokuDaimyo.com?  I would love to redact those recipes and maybe provide some cooking videos for anyone who would want to try them.  A shoutout to Max Miller of Tasting History, who reached out to us about using a couple of our translations for his episodes on historical Japanese cooking – Max is a great guy and his series and cookbook are well worth following.  But there's a lot more to explore: one of my favorites so far that we've tried is "keiran", or "eggs": doughy balls filled with brown sugar and cooked in a miso based soup.  I don't know if there is anything like that still being served in Japan, but it's a strange and pleasant recipe and I would love to do that again and record it for everyone to try. All of this is in the works, and nothing will change immediately, but I wanted to keep you all in the loop.  Thank you so much for listening, I can't tell you how much it means. And of course, as always, 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.

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A big part of the court are the actual court nobles, so this episode we are taking a look at some of the ones mentioned in the Chronicles for this reign. For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-150 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 150: Nobles of Jitou Tennou's Court   Maro donned his light blue robes and made his way to the court.  As he arrived, the sun was just peaking over the horizon, and as it bathed the court in the golden morning light the dark shadows were dispelled, leaving in their wake a colorful scene, as various court officials headed this way and that, gathering in their offices to pick up on the work that they had left unfinished the day before. As an ohotoneri, Maro was often sent to and fro between the offices of the different departments. As such, he was able to see how they worked, and he wondered to himself which department would have the best opportunity for advancement.  His family had connections over at the Department of Prisons, and it was definitely a place he could make a name for himself, especially if he attached himself to one of the newly minted magistrates.  On the other hand, the Jingikan, the Ministry for Kami Matters, had some of the most important and sought after positions.  After all, no matter what the secular administration did, when there was no rain for the fields, it was the kami to whom the court turned.  And the members of the Jingikan who helped make those ceremonies happen were known to be well rewarded for their troubles. Perhaps he would be better off taking a more modest position, such as with the Jibu-sho, the Department of Civil Administration.  It was mostly focused on the maintenance and execution of the bureaucracy, and wasn't necessarily a place to seek the limelight, but perhaps that also offered some opportunity.  Do well in one position, and who knows what that could open up to you in the long run?  Maybe one day Maro could make it up to become a Nagon, a Counsellor, or even one of the Daijin, the great ministers at the very head of the council of state.Maro almost laughed at the thought, but he didn't put it aside entirely.  After all, as impossible as it might seem now, the world was still changing, and who knew what opportunities might be waiting just around the corner?   This episode continues our look at the reign of Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.  I would note that we have now reached the last chapter of the Nihon Shoki, which ends with the end of Uno no Sarara's reign in 697.  In this chapter, we have not quite 11 years to cover, and we've already talked about the first three of those years, which featured succession issues and a long mourning time for Uno's husband Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, culminating in the sudden death of her only son, the Crown Prince and heir apparent, Prince Kusakabe, in 689.  We also went over what was happening on the continent, with powerful women like Uno no Sarara either on or behind the throne in Silla and the Tang dynasty.  To quickly recap the succession issues: When Kusakabe died, tthat left the throne in a somewhat tenuous position.  There were two other male heirs that would seem to have a claim on the throne as well.  The first was Prince Takechi, who was technically Ohoama's eldest son, but the Chroniclers claim that his late mother was not sufficiently royal for him to have a serious claim.  Then there was Prince Karu, the only known son of the late Crown Prince Kusakabe, and had been born 6 years earlier, in 683, to the Crown Prince and his wife, Princess Abe.  Princess Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, and a half-sister to Uno no Sarara.  She was actually a year older than Kusakabe, and would continue to look after the young Prince Karu.  So, Prince Karu was only about 7 years old when his father passed away: much too young to be taking the throne, let alone a firm hand in the politics of the time.  And given the mortality statistics of the time, there is so much that could happen to him before he reached the age of majority.  And remember, there were already some questions about legitimacy, and we already discussed the fact that about 30 nobles had gathered in support of Prince Ohotsu right after Ohoama's death.  Uno no Sarara had that whole issue quashed and Prince Ohotsu had died, but it was nonetheless a stark reminder that things could change quickly. So at this point in Uno no Sarara's reign, there is a great deal of uncertainty afoot, and there are quite a few individuals named in the Chronicles who stand to benefit from sticking their fingers into politics in one way or another.  This episode, we're going to look at some of those individuals, their roles in the court, and the effect they had on Yamato.  Some of those people named are particularly interesting in that they were involved in the conspiracy with Prince Ohotsu, and would continue to be highly influential in the government.  For example, Iki no Hakatoko, Nakatomi no Omimaro, and Kose no Tayasu, and Yakuchi no Wotokashi are all name-dropped, which we'll get into more later.  It feels significant, however, that there were some 30 nobles all told, and beyond these four and the apparent ringleaders, we don't learn anyone else's names.   The importance of prominent individuals in the court has been a constant theme in the Chronicles and in this podcast, so getting to know the court is definitely important. Moreover, during this time period as we get more and more written sources from which to work from we will see more and more information on individuals.  Some of that will come from the Nihon Shoki and the records that come after—the Shoku Nihongi.  Others, however, are from sources like the Man'yoshu, where bits of biographical data are found about the authors that they mention.  There are also family diaries and later genealogies.  Some of these sources are a bit more trusted than others, especially when they were compiled centuries later and we don't exactly know what sources they, themselves, were working on.  Still, even if it isn't 100% accurate, it does give us a picture of what was going on beyond just the royal family. I think it is also helpful to understand some of the overall court dynamics.  If you are familiar with the Heian period, especially around the time of things like the Tale of Genji, you are probably well acquainted with the Fujiwara family—I'll probably need to do an entire episode just on them at some point.  Essentially, there would come a time where almost the entire court was made up either of royals or of members of the Fujiwara clan, or uji.  In fact, even that distinction wasn't really accurate as the Fujiwara family had so intermarried with the Royal family that every sovereign—every Tennou and even most of their consorts—were directly related to members of the Fujiwara.  Not only that, but members of the Fujiwara family held the position of regent—whether the sovereign was of age or not—and effectively ruled the country, with the Tennou being largely relegated to a mouthpiece with ceremonial duties.  It would get so bad that we would see the splitting of the Fujiwara uji into smaller households, and the political fights were often between members of the different households of the same family.  There is a reason that a good portion of the Heian period is sometimes called the Fujiwara period. However, now during the late Asuka period, we see something a little different.  The marriage politics of the Soga had been violently suppressed about a half century earlier, and a lot of different names flourished in the Yamato court, as youmay have noticed any time I've rattled off a bunch of names and your eyes started crossing because of it.  But that's the reality we see: there were a lot of different families, and individuals, all jockeying for influence.  And they were in a period of disruption, where lots of change was happening.  That change meant there was also a lot of potential. And I hope you don't mind if I take a quick time-out here, but so often we read history and we forget to learn lessons from it, and one overarching lesson is:  if you are a part of an organization—a company, a club, government, school, or anything like that—one thing you are going to have to deal with is change.  It comes in many forms and happens whether or not you personally agree with it. It can be destructive and it can be frightening, because we often don't know what is on the other side of it, but it also presents opportunities.  After all, if you don't know what comes next it probably means other people don't, either.  And if you can be the one to provide direction you can have a huge influence on what comes next.  And change has been a constant theme in this period of Yamato history, in so many ways.  Take the reorganization of the government as one example: they had introduced these 8 departments, which had names and were set up in various ways, but it wasn't like you had experienced people to run them as they had been on the continent.  So you had names and the forms of things, but there were a lot of people figuring out just how to actually put this new structure into practice, and leverage them to do what they were supposed to do.  In the process, there were a lot of opportunities to innovate and figure out how to do it within the cultural milieu of the archipelago.  So all of these individuals, from these various families, all had opportunities staring them in the face.  They just had to figure out how to make the best of it. Now, don't get me wrong:  Those with the money, the connections, and the influence still had a leg up, and this was still a hierarchical society, where your family dictated, to some extent, your position in society.  The introduction of individual court rank, as opposed to just the kabane that ranked uji, was pushing against that, and had already caused a reformation that flattened a lot of the previous kabane into just eight distinctions, but those distinctions still existed.  Even had they not, simple matters of inherited wealth and the value of goods produced in a family's home territory would still have provided tremendous advantages.  But there isn't an indication of the kind of large-scale consolidation of resources that we will see in later periods, such as the Fujiwara example that we were just discussing.  Oh, sure, we aren't going to see a farmer suddenly make it big at court in some kind of rags-to-riches story, but at the upper end of society we still have a lot of apparent diversity. And so, let's get to know some of these individuals that the Chronicles tell us about.  Before we do that, though, let's recap a little bit about how the court worked. Every member of the court was effectively employed by the State.  They had an official job with duties they were supposed to oversee.  In the case of lower level functionaries, they were likely expected to actually do most of the work, while at the top of the hierarchy you had nobles who were more likely decision-makers, who would approve or disapprove of the work and direct strategic resources. Those working in the court had official uniforms—the round-necked garments of the continent.  What would be called a "caftan" farther west.  These were based on the foreign garments popular in the Tang court and elsewhere. The color and pattern of official clothing appears to be something that goes back to early in this new continental style government, and we see suggestions of color schemes from a relatively early age.  However, in 690 we see the clearest such outline of just what everyone was wearing. As a reminder, the court rank system of the day was made up of a Princely and a Commoner system.  Princely ranks originally included two ranks of the Myo class, and four of the Jou class, each rank divided into either "Great" or "Broad", for twelve Princely ranks, though honestly we only ever really see the four Jou class of ranks in use. Below that were the ranks for the common nobles—those with family names who did not have any kind of royal claim.    For them there were six classes of rank—Shou, Jiki, Gon, Mu, Tsui, and Shin, in that order.  Each class was made up of four ranks, which were further divided into upper and broad categories, creating 48 total ranks. Your rank determined your precedence at court—where you were sat, what jobs you were allowed to take on and, most importantly, the amount of money that you could expect to receive as part of a stipend.  Naka no Oe had previously consolidated the land-holdings and asserted claim over all of it.  The taxes from the households on the land went to the government to pay the stipends of the nobles in the court, who were, ostensibly, employees of that same government.  Your rank determined what you were owed, though this could also be augmented by various edicts. So there you go: rank in the court was tied to many of the things that the elites wanted, from wealth to status and access to various opportunities. The color of official clothing followed the rank system.  So Princes of the first two ranks of the Jou class were given robes of dark purple, and the third and four ranks were given robes of bright purple, which they shared with highest class of rank of the common nobles, the Shou rank class. Below that, nobles of the Jiki class would wear robes of dark red, and those of Gon would wear dark green.  The Mu rank class, the next down, was Light Green, and then Tsui was Deep Blue and Shin was Light blue. So in order you would see robes of Dark Purple, Bright Purple, Dark Red, Dark Green, Light Green, Deep Blue, and Light Blue.  The color gave you a certain indication of where the person sat in the overall hierarchy of the court, and provided you clues as to how you should address them, who would give deference, etc.  In later centuries, we are even told that deference was given in meetings, which is to say that once a person of higher rank provided input on a topic, nobody of lower rank was able to contradict them for fear of the consequences.  So it also told you who got the last word. This then was the world that the nobles of the court inhabited.  As we've seen in previous episodes it wasn't just bureaucratic work, but also banquets, archery contests, and Buddhist congregations and sutra readings.  There were rituals, dances, and diplomatic embassies—not to mention all of the ceremonies around the death or ascension of the sovereign.  In this world, one's reputation was everything.  You wanted to be seen as good at your job, but also, just like today, people were more likely to promote and support those they knew, and so it helped to have friends.  However, there were also a limited number of top spots, and so every promotion would have likewise meant plenty of disappointed nobles who didn't get the job.  But that is enough background.  Let's take a look at some of the nobles themselves, starting with the four from the Prince Ohotsu conspiracy.   The first name in the list is perhaps the least interesting.  His name is Yakuchi no Wotokashi.  Although he was the highest ranking of the four, he is also the least mentioned in the Chronicles and elsewhere, and we know very little about him.  So we'll talk about him later on, for completeness, but for now it may be best to skip him until we have a better handle on others in the court. In contrast, we know a bit more about his co-conspirators.  In fact, we've already talked about one of them at length:  Iki no Hakatoko.  We first heard about Iki no Hakatoko when talking about the Tang dynasty, and discussed him at length in Episode 123.  He was one of the members of the embassy to the Tang dynasty back in the early 660s that got delayed on account of Tang Gaozong initiating the war against Yamato's ally Baekje.  The fact that the Nihon Shoki directly pulls from Hakatoko's work, known to us, today, as the Iki no Hakatoko Sho, makes it one of the few early named written works that we know about.  Unfortunately, it is no longer extant except for what is preserved in the Chronicles, but it is still incredible that we have essentially an eyewitness account of what happened.  He would later be one of the escort envoys for one of the Tang embassies during the reign of Naka no Oe.  That he was then embroiled in the conspiracy with Prince Ohotsu would seem to be at odds with his standing, and yet after his pardon he eventually got back into the court's good graces.  In 695, about 9 years after the incident, he was assigned as an assistant envoy to Silla.  By that point he was of Mudaini rank, which was only about 35th in the overall scheme of things.  Later on we know he would work on the famous Taiho code, which was published in 701, and enacted a couple of years later.  It was here that he worked with the famous Fujiwara no Fubito—about whom we will discuss more, later—and although he would pass away in 703, this may be how his own writings came to find their way into the Chronicles, since Fubito is said to have had a large influence on them—as he had on many of the court's projects. Overall, Iki no Hakatoko may not have been the one in charge, but we see in his life an incredible career, much of it spent on multiple voyages across the ocean, whether on an embassy or as an escort.  He likely was highly proficient in the language of the Tang court—what we typically refer to, broadly, as Middle Chinese.  He also had direct experience with the Tang court and system, and so it makes sense that he was one of those helping to build an administrative state based on that system. If we were to imagine Hakatoko in the court of the day, at least in 695, he would have likely had light green colored robes, indicating that he was of the "Mu" class of ranks.  He would have worn the black gauze cap of the court and worn white hakama, or trousers, underneath.  His long, continental style, round-necked robes—likely relatively slim, with overly long, but narrow, sleeves—would have been tied closed in the front with a braided silk cord.  He likely worn black leather boots, covered in a light lacquer to protect them from the elements, with cloth insoles and perhaps a hint of brocade along the top.  He likely kept with him a ruler, and perhaps a few slips of paper or even just wood on which to take occasional notes.  A mid-level functionary of the court. We can compare and contrast Hakatoko to two other co-conspirators:  Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu. We are given neither Omimaro's rank nor Tayasu's at this time.  It is interesting that they listed after Hakatoko, who is actually listed as having "Lower Shousen" rank—an older rank that was no longer in use at this point in time.  Also, both Nakatomi and Kose were Ason level families while Iki no Hakatoko is listed as being merely "Muraji".  So it seems that the Chroniclers were probably pulling from what they could find elsewhere, although where they found that Wotokashi had Jikikwoshi rank I have no idea, as we don't have any other record for him.  And it is possible that deference to Wotokashi and Hakatoko are as much a nod to their age as anything else, though probably not by much. Of four co-conspirators mentioned here—and I'm leaving out the two who were exiled or banished, as they were clearly not hanging around the court later—Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu were probably from the most established families.  Indeed, we see both of their names show up multiple times in the record, giving us a better idea of who they might have been. Of the two, the name Nakatomi probably is more likely to ring a bell, as that as the surname of the famous Nakatomi no Kamatari—as well as the later Nakatomi no Kane.   Nakatomi no Kamatari was the head of court ritual when he and Naka no Oe kicked things off with the Isshi Incident and the Taika reforms, at which point he became the "Inner Prime Minister", or Naidaijin. Much of what we know of Omimaro comes from outside of the Chronicles themselves.  For instance, we are told that he was the son of Nakatomi no Kunitari, a cousin to the famous Kamatari, at least according to the 10th century Engi Shiki.  However, we have no other records of Kunitari, and so there is more than a little doubt cast as to whether or not that was actually the case.  Similarly, we are told that Omimaro married one of Kamatari's daughters, and was eventually adopted by Kamatari. Once again, the evidence for this is pretty thin, and it is unclear to me just how adoption worked at this point.  Certainly in later periods, adoption was often a way to ensure that a family had a male heir to ensure the family's continuity, and marrying someone's daughter and being adopted into the family is an age old tradition in the archipelago and Japan more generally.  At the same time, give some thought to what we know about this period: male primogeniture was not exactly the norm, although Confucian values had definitely made inroads into court.   The family headship often went to the eldest—or most prominent—family member.  This wasn't necessarily a son and often was a brother, a nephew, or even a cousin.  We have a few famous Nakatomi at this point in time, and all I can say for certain is that they were part of the same family.  Later traditions would make things a bit more clear. Whatever his parentage, our first encounter with Omimaro appears to be in the Ohotsu conspiracy, when he was arrested and then pardoned.  He shows up again in the record just three years later, along with Kose no Tayasu, as both were made judges, along with Fujiwara no Fubito—Nakatomi no Kamatari's biological son and eventual heir. In fact, there were nine judges, or magistrates, made that year, and they are listed in rank order.  The first is Prince Takeda, said to be a great-grandson of Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  He was Joukwoshi rank, meaning he wore bright purple court robes, sitting in the lower half of the princely ranks.  He had been quite prolific ever since 681, when he was one of the Princes called to help bring together the Chronicles.  After being made a judge, he would continue in that position, it seems, and by 708 he would become the head of the Ministry of Prisons. After him we have Haji no Nemaro, in the dark red robes of the Jiki rank class.  Though someone of rank, less is known about Nemaro.  His father is said to be Haji no Mi, who was part of the forces that set out to Yamada-dera to capture—and likely kill—Soga no Kurayamadera.  Haji no Nemaro's son is Haji no Oi, who was sent to the Tang court but returned in 684, along with several repatriated soldiers.  Oi would assist with the Taihou code, but little more is said about him or his father. Other judges were Ohoyake no Maro, Fujiwara no Fubito—also of the Jiki class rank. Maro would go on to take a job as a jusenshi, responsible for minting coins, and Fubito would go on to reach the highest levels of government. Then there was Tahema no Sakurawi, Hodzumi no Yamamori, Nakatomi no Omimaro, Kose no Tayasu, and Ohomiwa no Yasumaro.  They were all Mudaishi rank at this point, wearing dark green.  Sakurai would go on to become the governor of Ise in 705, and then the governor of Musashi in 708.  Hodzumi no Yamamori we don't have as much information on, other than that he kept climbing the ranks, by 704 he had made Junior 5th rank, lower grade in the system that replaced the cap-ranks, and by 712 he made it to the senior fifth rank, lower grade. Ohomiwa no Yasumaro, on the other hand, would make it to the Senior 5th rank, lower grade by 707, and the upper grade by 708, when he was made the Dayu—the high minister in charge—of Settsu.  He would eventually make it into the Junior Fourth rank, upper grade, as the Minister of the Military Department, or Hyobu-sho. So this gives you an idea of the people with whom Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu were rubbing elbows.  That they were made judges, responsible for justice, seems to say something as that would seem to be a powerful position.  At the same time, they are both lower ranked than the much younger Fujiwara no Fubito—but once again, he was the direct son of Nakatomi no Kamatari.  He also seems to have avoided any unpleasantness from the Jinshin no Ran as he was only 14 at the time, and though it does seem that the Nakatomi were generally knocked down a peg or two in court—thanks in large part  to the fact that Nakatomi no Kane had been one of the leaders of the Afumi court.  That and the whole thing with Prince Ohotsu may be why Omimaro was not exactly in the top ranks, but his appointments weren't nothing, either.  By 693, Omimaro would be granted the rank of Jikikwoshi, the lower fourth rank of the Jiki class.  In that entry he is recorded as Fujiwara no Omimaro.  I believe we discussed this a few episodes back, but the Fujiwara name was still new.  It had been granted to Nakatomi no Kamatari on his deathbed—or possibly even posthumously—by Naka no Oe, and to his family.  So technically that would seem to extend to the entire Nakatomi family.  And with Nakatomi no Kane having been one of the main figures on the losing side of the Jinshin no Ran, it was no doubt a savvy political move for Nakatomi courtiers to lean into the Fujiwara name, and they seem to have done just that.  It wouldn't be until later, in the reign just following this, that a new decree would straighten everything out, such that only the actual descendants of Fujiwara no Kamatari, such as Fujiwara no Fubito, would be allowed to use the Fujiwara name. Throughout this, I have focused mostly on Omimaro, but Kose no Tayasu was in the mix as well.  He, too, was made a judge and in 693 he would also be awarded the same Jikikwoshi rank.  In addition, in 689, he was made a "commissioner of good words", along with the Royal Prince Shiki and others.  This seems to be a singular position, and Aston suggests that it was their job to figure out the kind of auspicious language that should be used in the court.  What kind of language should be used by the sovereign and the courtiers in drawing up official edicts.  I imagine that they were figuring out the form to give to formal court documents as well as the kinds of titles and honorifics to use for the sovereign and the state more generally.  Of course, that is just an assumption based on Aston's understanding of what is, ultimately, a single line.  Still, it is clear that Tayasu was helping to make things happen. Tayasu would eventually go on to become the Minister of the Department of Ceremonies, the Shikibu-sho, and would later serve as a secretary to the Viceroy in Tsukushi—the Dazai Daini.  He would pass away in 710, one year before Omimaro. Before leaving Tayasu behind completely, I would like to point out his family name:  Kose.  The Kose family were one of the families granted the kabane of Ason, or Asaomi.  They had previously been known as the Kose no Omi, and had a long history in the court, claiming descent from the famous Takeuchi no Sukune, legendarily known as the first Oho-omi of Yamato.  Kose no Tokuda had been a supporter of Soga no Iruka, but after the Isshi Incident he supported Naka no Oe and eventually replace Abe no Uchimaro as Sadaijin—Minister of the Left.  Another Kose, Kose no Hito, would also rise in the government, becoming one of two Goshi-daibu made when Prince Ohotomo was appointed Dajodaijin.  The other was Ki no Ushi.  They were both in attendance and counted among the six who swore to protect and support Ohotomo, along with Nakatomi no Kane and others.  So they, too, found themselves on the wrong side of the Jinshin no Ran. In this case, however, it is unclear how much Tayasu was impacted by that.  He may have been the son of Kose no Shitano, brother to Kose no Hito, but the Kose were prolific in the court, with many people of the name.  The family would continue going through the Heian period.  Their fortunes ebbed and flowed, as did so many families, but they would eventually find themselves as Hatamoto to the Tokugawa shogun, so they never actually disappeared. Finally, let's talk about Yakuchi no Wotokashi.  As I mentioned earlier, he is actually one of the first names mentioned in the list of co-conspirators with Prince Ohotsu, suggesting that he outranked others in the group.  Indeed, he is noted as being of Jikikwoshi rank—fourth lower Jiki rank.  The bottom of the Jiki class, but that was still the third class from the top.  However, despite this, very little is actually said about him.  In fact, this is the only instance I could find of the name Yakuchi in the Nihon Shoki, at least in that spelling—there is also a Yakuchi no Uneme, but it is spelled differently and is probably not related.  It is also the only evidence of the name Wotokashi.  That means we don't even see him in the list of names being granted Ason in the first place. It is quite possible that Yakuchi was a name he took later and that he was from another family.  Indeed, there are a couple of traditions around Wotokashi that suggest he was the founder of the Yakuchi family in Shinano.  Indeed, there is a Yakuchi family that comes out of Shinano, near Adzumino.  And Shinano was one of the places that Ohoama had sent people to examine as another site for an alternative capital, and Prince Mino and others had gone to check it out.  So maybe Wotokashi headed out there—or his descendants, anyway—and decided to try and make a go of it.  Proponents of this theory also connect Wotokashi to a line descended from the Soga family, which would certainly explain his prominence.  There are others, however, who claim that the Yakuchi family out of Shinano is actually descended from the Otomo, suggesting that the similarities in the name are just coincidental, which is also possible.  Ultimately, our sources fail us here, and so we just have speculation.  It is possible that even with the pardon, Wotokashi was just never able to regain the trust of the sovereign or his position in court, and so whether he took a hike for the hinterlands or just faded from the picture it is hard to say. With that, let's take a look at just two more courtiers, and what kinds of lives and careers they had at court, at least from what we can see.  These two we've also mentioned in passing:  Fuse no Miushi—whom Aston transliterates as Miaruji—and Ohotomo no Miyuki. Fuse no Miushi and Ohotomo no Miyuki were both mentioned as performing eulogies for Ohoama, though there is more to them than just that.  We'll start with Fuse no Miushi, who is said to have been the son of none other than the Taika era Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, Abe no Uchimaro.  You may recall that Abe no Uchimaro was the Sadaijin under Karu no Ohokimi, aka Koutoku Tennou, along with the Udaijin, Soga no Kurayamadera.  They were both supporters of Naka no Oe, though much of the Chronicles focus appeared to be more on Kurayamadera than on Uchimaro. We don't know when Miushi was born, nor when he received the name "Fuse", the name by which he is known when we first meet him in the Chronicles.  That family name only shows up two other times in the Chronicles.  Based on other sources, it seems that the Abe family was divided at some point into the Fuse and the Hikida, likely because it became too large and they needed to distinguish the different parts of the family.  It is said that Fuse no Miushi served as a retainer to Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran.  That, along with his family connections, helped secure him a good place in the government.  By 686, we see him pronouncing the eulogy for Ohoama's funeral on behalf of the Dajokan, the Counil of State.  He was already Jikidaishi, one rank above the standard Jikikwoshi, but still clothed in the same dark red robes.  In 687, he is again pronouncing the eulogy, but this time we are told that his a Nagon, or councilor, a rather prestigious posting that would later get broken up into three different levels:  Dainagon, Chunagon, and Shonagon.  For my Heian fans out there, that last is the same Shonagon as in the name of the famous poet, author, diary-keeper, and all around queen of snark, Sei Shonagon.  By 688, pronouncing the Eulogy seems to have become an annual event for Miushi, only this time he teamed up with Ohotomo no Miyuki.  The two of them seem to have had similar careers, and would, for a time, come up together through the ranks. Ohotomo no Miyuki is said to have been born in 646, though that isn't recorded in the Nihon Shoki and comes from other sources.  The Ohotomo family goes back quite a ways, and we are told that his father was Ohotomo no Nagatoko, who served as Minister of the Right under Naka no Oe.  However, in 672, the Ohotomo, including Miyuki, sided with Ohoama in the Jinshin no ran.  In 675 he was made Tayu while Prince Kurikuma was made Director of Military Affairs.  He then drops out of the narrative until 688, when he is pronouncing the eulogy with Fuse no Miushi. Miushi would go on, two years later, to present the formal congratulations from the court to the Queen upon her ascencion to the throne, and then the following year, 691, both Miushi and Miyuki were granted the rank of Jikidaiichi, the highest rank in the Jiki class, along with 80 households to support them and their families.  This brought both of their stipends up to roughly 300 households each.  Then, in 694, they were both raised in rank again, this time to Shoukwoushi.  Only one rank up, yet they went from the top of the Jiki class to the bottom of the Shou class.  They would have gotten new robes of Bright Purple to indicate their new status, and they each had their stipends increased by the taxes of 200 households each.  At the same time, they were also acknowledged as senior members of their houses.  That means that Miushi was considered the head of the Fuse branch of the Abe family and Miyuki was now acknowledged as the head of the entire Ohotomo family. Two years after that, in 696, they were each given 80 retainers to support them.  Fuse no Miushi is actually mentioned at that time as Abe no Miushi.  That same year, we again see Fujiwara no Fubito show up, but with only 50 retainers.  Fubito would eventually rise to the top of the court food chain, but at this point, it was still in the hands of courtiers like Fuse no Abe no Miushi and Ohotomo no Miyuki. Fuse no Miushi would go on to have an incredible career.  He would become Dainagon and eventually he would become the Udaijin, the Minister of the Right, one of the highest positions anyone could hope to achieve at court. Ohotomo no Miyuki would not make it quite so far.  Like Miushi, he made it to Dainagon, but he died in the first month of 701, just 55 years old.  He had made it to the third rank, and he was posthumously granted the title of Udaijin—the position was vacant at the time—and granted second rank.  His colleague, Abe no Miushi, would go on to take the position only four months later and serve for a couple of years before passing away himself. These two would have worked closely together throughout their careers, and the fact that they were raised in rank and position on similar timelines suggests to me that they ran together in very close circles.  They would have been working in similar positions, at the same levels of the government.  They would have been going to the same parties and partaking in the same banquets and entertainments.   They were no doubt rivals, in a sense, but also equals.  Both families would go on, even as the Fujiwara clan came to dominate the politics of the era, the Ohotomo and Abe would continue to hold power in the court during the Nara period, though eventually it would decline.  The Ohotomo would eventually become just the Tomo, to avoid conflicting with the name of a slater sovereign, and the main house would eventually decline, though branch families would continue to claim descent from the Ohotomo into to the Edo period. The Abe would continue, similarly pushing against the Fujiwara.  The most famous Abe was probably Abe no Seimei, who became known for his skills as an Onmyouji, or master of Yin-yang divination and magic.  The Tsuchimikado branch of the Abe family would continue that tradition, and it would come to largely define the main branch of the family. I hope that gives a bit of an idea of what was going on in the court and the kinds of careers that people were looking at and what was happening.  We cannot get into every single person, but I'm going to try and note some of the more prominent courtiers and what they were doing.  It isn't always clear from the Chronicles what was going on between the various houses, but one can largely assume that the court was highly political.  Different factions were vying for power and position.  Sitting atop all of it, Uno no Sarara would have to perform her own kind of balancing act, doling out rewards and punishments as necessary, and ensuring to place the right people in positions of power and authority.  On the one hand, that ambition was a motivating factor, keeping the people of the court focused on the tasks at hand and ensuring that the court was running smoothly.  On the other hand, too much power in the hands of any one individual could cause them to get ideas that they should have even more.  The main bulwark against this was everyone else in the system—the checks and balances were literally the other court nobles, who weren't going to just let someone  take power unless there was something in it for them as well.  More on that as we watch this reign unfold. But for now, thank you so much for listening and downloading the podcast.  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.

En este episodio de Nakatomi Radio hablamos de El indomable Will Hunting (1997): su increíble historia detrás de las cámaras, el papel fundamental de Robin Williams, las mejores escenas de la película, curiosidades del rodaje y las razones por las que sigue emocionando casi treinta años después. Una historia sobre talento, amistad, segundas oportunidades y el miedo a dar el paso que puede cambiarlo todo. ️ Víctor Nanclares y Alfredo Zapata la comentan, la desmenuzan y sobre todo, la disfrutan contigo.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! ¿Y si al morir tuvieras solo una semana… para decidir con quién pasar la eternidad? Esta semana nos metemos en una de las sorpresas más bonitas y extrañas del año. Una comedia romántica sobrenatural producida por A24 que mezcla humor, nostalgia, amor perdido y ese tipo de preguntas que te dejan mirando al techo a las 3 de la mañana. Elizabeth Olsen, Miles Teller y Callum Turner protagonizan un triángulo amoroso… en el más allá. Sí, como si Ghost y The Good Place hubieran tenido un hijo emocionalmente inestable. Hablamos de cómo la película convierte la eternidad en algo parecido a una terminal de aeropuerto existencial, de por qué el amor idealizado puede ser más peligroso que el real, y de esa sensación devastadora de preguntarte quién eras… antes de convertirte en quien eres ahora.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

Esta semana en Nakatomi Radio nos subimos al Bluesmobile para hablar de una de las mayores locuras jamás rodadas: persecuciones imposibles, coches destruidos de verdad, presupuestos disparados, rodajes completamente fuera de control… y dos tipos vestidos de negro intentando salvar el blues en un mundo que ya parecía haberlo olvidado. Hablamos de John Belushi, de Dan Aykroyd, de cómo nació el fenómeno en Saturday Night Live y de por qué esta película acabó convirtiéndose en algo mucho más grande que una comedia musical. También hablamos del caos. Del exceso. Y de cómo, a veces, el arte más salvaje nace justo antes del abismo. Porque quizá los Blues Brothers no intentaban solo salvar un orfanato. Quizá intentaban salvar algo que estaba desapareciendo. Y sí… puede que nosotros entendamos un poco eso. ️ Ya disponible en iVoox, Spotify y YouTube.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! En este nuevo NO LIMITS, abrimos la puerta a uno de esos temas que el cine ha convertido en ritual, tragedia, comedia romántica, campo de minas y deporte de riesgo emocional: las citas. Primeros encuentros, expectativas imposibles, silencios que duran una vida, frases que no deberían haberse dicho nunca y esa maravillosa sensación de no saber si estás viviendo una escena de Richard Linklater o el prólogo de una catástrofe. Un episodio para suscriptores, sin freno, sin mapa y con la elegancia justa para fingir que sabemos comportarnos. Nakatomi Radio — No Limits.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

En este programa de Nakatomi Radio nos subimos otra vez las escaleras del Museo de Arte de Filadelfia para hablar de Sylvester Stallone, de la construcción del mito Rocky, de una de las mejores secuelas del cine popular americano y de por qué a veces la victoria no consiste en tumbar a nadie, sino en volver a levantarte tú. Porque no siempre se trata de ganar. A veces se trata de escuchar tu nombre al final del combate.

Last episode we briefly talked about what happened when Ōama passed away, including the apparent conspiracy around the Royal Prince Ōtsu, and then the question as to why his son, Crown Prince Kusakabe, didn't then succeed him to the throne. This episode we are taking a look at that period, but more focused on the rituals and what went into a royal funeral, and then take a look all the way to the eventual ascension to the throne of not Crown Prince Kusakabe, but instead his mother, Ōama's queen, Uno no Sarara. She would eventually be known as Jitō Tennō. For photos and links to other episodes, check out our blog post: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-148   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 148: A Nation Mourns Crown Prince Kusakabe approached the temporary palace structure that had been hastily assembled in the courtyard in front of the Kiyomihara Palace.   Solemnly arrayed around him, dressed in their court garments, were the ministers and government officials.  Together, they approached the palace building, where the Crown Prince's father, Ohoama, also known as Ame no Nunahara oki no Mabito, lay in state.  He had passed away, and according to the imported Confucian values of filial piety, Kusakabe was now expected to mourn in ritual fashion. The court ritualists had seen to every detail of what should be done and even said, to the extent that the crown prince's actions almost felt like a performance of grief, rather than a heartfelt tribute.  And yet, Kusakabe could not help but feel some emotion at the sight of his father, once the most powerful man under heaven, now laid out in this place of temporary interment.  There would be many more ceremonies and rituals before the final mausoleum would be built and the former sovereign's body finally laid to rest.  Until then, even though Ohoama's spirit had left, his body would remain as a symbol to the people, and as the centerpiece of an elaborate ritual, designed, in part, to continue to bolster the state he had helped to create.   Last episode we went into some of the shenanigans around the death of Ohoama and the succession to the throne.  As we saw, not everyone was apparently on board with the idea that Crown Prince Kusakabe would take the throne, leading to the arrest and execution of Prince Ohotsu.  However, we noted that Crown Prince Kusakabe didn't end up on the throne after all: for whatever reason, he never ascended to the honor, and died in 689 – not even three years after the death of his father.  And so we saw Uno no Sarara, Ohoama's wife and queen and mother of Crown Prince Kusakabe, formally take the reins of state and go on to reign as the sovereign, the Sumera Mikoto, or Tennou, until 697.  From there she would become the first ever Retired Sovereign, keeping her hand in government until her death in 703. This episode we are going to look a little more in depth regarding everything that went on around Ohoama's death and the various rites accompanying his passing. Ohoama's was obviously not the first royal death that we have seen in the Chronicles.  It is perhaps, however, one of the best documented in terms of the funerary arrangements and the various rituals that accompanied his passing.  Some of those arrangements are mentioned previously in the Chronicles, but not to the same extent as we see for Ohoama.  This leaves me wondering: are we seeing something novel—new rites for a new type of sovereign, perhaps?  Or was this just the first time the ritual had been documented to this level of detail?. Before jumping into what we see this time around, we should probably look back at what we have seen around the death of previous sovereigns, and which are still going on here.  First and foremost is the creation—or at least the designation—of a "Palace of Temporary Interment".    This is the Mogari no Miya, with "mogari" being the term for the period between an individual's death and their eventual burial.  In the Nihon Shoki we see this practice go back to the earliest times.  After all, most deaths do not occur on a set schedule, and once someone has passed away, funerary arrangements would need to be made.  Now, if all you are doing is putting a body into a box and lowering it into the ground, you can probably bring it all together rather quickly. However, for centuries the burial practices on the archipelago had been significantly more elaborate.  Even those without royal blood might be afforded a special mound, or kofun.  There would be giant stones selected to create the chamber, and then tons of earth and pebbles placed on top.  There might also be haniwa—clay cylinders—which then might even be topped with special figures.  All of this had to be planned out and taken care of, and in some cases, such as the creation of haniwa, it appears as there was a major industry involved in funerary preparations. In the case of royal family members things got even more elaborate, and based on the size of many of the kofun that we see one can assume that their construction took time.  In fact, I would not be surprised if the construction of a new tomb mound might not have kicked off on or near the ascension of the sovereign just to make sure it would be ready, but even still it would take time for all of the rites associated with a royal burial to be ready to go. And so it was common practice that one would have to wait before a burial could actually take place.  Since you couldn't just leave a body out in the open in the community, the corpse would be deposited, instead, in a temporary building.  These are sometimes referred to as mogari huts,  which would likely be placed well away from others.  Here we should also take into account the general pollution associated with death in its various forms.  So you would want to have the body kept out of sight and away from people as best you could while you prepared for the actual burial at some later date.  For sovereigns, this mogari hut, or hut of temporary interment, was eventually referred to as a "miya", or "palace".  In some cases it seems as if one of the buildings of the sovereign's old palace was used for this purpose, while a new palace was then also built for the new reign. In addition to the place of temporary interment, one of the common traditions we see in funerals in the Chronicles is the role of the eulogy.  While a person lay in state during their temporary interment, we are told that people could come to eulogize and lament.  In the case of a sovereign, the high ministers and politically connected would come together and deliver speeches.  This served multiple purposes.  On the one hand, these rituals reinforced concepts of the State and the central authority in the body of the sovereign.  On the other hand, they also served as markers of status for those delivering the speeches, and provided opportunities to be seen and heard, signaling their support of the system that provided them their own power and authority. So all of this  process and ritual that we see for Ohoama is familiar, from previous royal deaths.  However, it's interesting to note that in the most recent years before Ohoama's funeral, a lot of these traditions seem to have been scaled back.  For one thing, there was the decline of large, keyhole shaped kofun, ever since the introduction of Buddhism in the 6th century and the move to memorial temples over large tombs. Furthermore, as part of the Taika era reforms we see regulations on how long temporary interment may last for those of princely rank and below—though nothing is clearly stated for the sovereign themselves.    Let's look at the most recent royal death's before Ohoama's, but since the beginning of the Taika era.  There are at least three we've talked about.  First off is the death of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou.  Karu's death is barely remarked upon—he was buried about two months after he passed away, and very little fanfare is given.  One can't help but wonder if this was, in part at least, due to the fact that Naka no Oe was actually in charge and running things at the Crown Prince. Takara hime, aka Saimei Tennou, would pass away in the middle of the Baekje war against the Silla-Tang alliance.  Her body was sent back to Yamato, but the Crown Prince and many of the elites established themselves in Tsukushi—modern Kyushu—to better conduct the war on the peninsula.  Not only was her interment thus delayed, but Naka no Oe's own ascension wouldn't take place for several more years, possibly because of the new capital he was building in Ohotsu.  Naka no Oe's own funerary arrangements were interrupted by the events of the Jinshin no Ran.  In fact, the building of his tumulus was used by the government as a cover to bring in soldiers to prepare for the conflict.  There may have been various funerary rituals planned or even carried out by the Afumi court, but if so they were overshadowed by the civil war that broke out between the two claimants to the throne. As such, Ohoama's appears to be the first royal funeral of this magnitude in a while, and in this case they really pulled out all the stops.  There were various activities and rituals associated with Ohoama's passing up through the 11th month of 688, over two years later, when he was finally buried.  So let's go over what happened and maybe what dragged it out so much longer. First off were the immediate lamentations and eulogies.  Ohoama passed away on the 9th day of the 9th month, according to the Nihon Shoki.  It was the year 686 according to the western calendar.  Two months later the erection of the temporary palace of interment began in the southern courtyard—presumably the area south of the Asuka Kiyomihara palace, where they had previously held the various archery competitions. This took a couple of weeks, and Ohoama's body was finally placed in the temporary palace as of the 24th of that month. While ritual lamentations were raised at the start of the building of the mogari palace and when the sovereign's body was interred, the major rites appear to have started three days after he was laid to rest, on the 27th day,  proceeding for the next three days, from the 27th until the 30th. The rites started with Buddhist monks and nuns who arrived before sunrise and began to perform lamentations in the courtyard of the mogari.  Later that day, we see food offerings, apparently for the first time in the Chronicles. Offering food to the dead is not unique to Japan.  Some in Japan will offer food to their ancestors, especially during the Obon festival.  People will also offer food to kami.  In the case of Obon, a bowl of rice is often served with two chopsticks sticking straight out of it.  This has actually led to a social taboo on leaving your chopsticks "stuck" in food, as it looks as though you are offering the food up to the dead.  Instead, chopsticks will be placed on a chopstick rest, on the table, or even across the top of a dish, just not sticking up out of the food, especially the rice. In this case it isn't clear exactly how the food offering was done, nor what happened to the food afterwards.  In the case of food offered to the kami, it is often the case that once the kami have had enough time to partake of the aura of the food—its spiritual essence—the food will then be removed and often consumed by people.  So for Ohoama's funerary offerings, something similar may have happened—possibly with a feast of some kind to which the various nobles were also invited. Along with the offering of food, we are told of a whole list of individuals who gave eulogies—though we aren't told what the content was.  It is likely that these eulogies were largely ritual utterances—stock phrasing by the participant to demonstrate their active performance of the rituals, rather than a deeply thought sermon about the sovereign.  After all, this seems to have gone on at a rather constant pace for the next several days.  The ritual order seems to have stayed the same, with priests and nuns kicking things off with lamentations in the courtyard, and various nobles presenting their eulogy.  The third day, the 29th, was the same. On the fourth day, the 30th, the last day of the month, the priests and nuns raised lament, and the eulogies were given by a Baekje prince in exile, on behalf of his father, as well as the various Miyatsuko of the various provinces.  In addition there were all performances of all manner of singing and dancing—which makes it sound more like a wake than anything else. With the close of the 9th month, we have a break in the tale of Ohoama's funeral, as the narrative switches over to the next part of the Chronicles covering the reign of Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.  The first order of business—other than telling us who Uno no Sarara was and covering some of her history—was to deal with the Prince Ohotsu conspiracy.  So we see Prince Ohotsu arrested, along with 30 conspirators.  Prince Ohotsu was killed at his residence, where his wife and consort ran to him and took her own life as well.  That all happened the 2nd and 3rd days of the 10th month.  The 30 co-conspirators were apparently held for about twenty-seven days while the court debated what to do with them.  Finally, the decree was made to pardon all except Toki no MIchidzukuri, who was only banished instead of executed, and the monk Heng-sin, who was exiled to a temple in Hida, over on Kyushu.  The month after that, Ohotsu's sister, Royal Princess Ohoku, returned to the capital from Ise Shrine where she had been serving as the Shrine Princess—though we aren't told who replaced her. And so it isn't until the twelfth month that we see what appears to be the rites for Ohoama's passing seem to resume.  This takes the form of a universal great assembly held in Ohoama's name at the Five temples, listed as Daikandaiji, Asukadera, Kawaradera, Toyoradera in Woharida, and Sakadadera.  This is an interesting list, as one would have expected that the rites would have occurred at the National Temples established previously—for more on the National temples, we talked about that back in Episode 142.. Daikandaiji, Asukadera, and Kawaradera were, of course, national temples.  Yakushiji is not mentioned, probably because it was still under construction.  At this date it's only been dedicated, and we won't see it show up in the Chronicles until 688—a year and change from the current gathering.  Toyoradera was the nunnery of Toyoura temple, and Sakada temple appears to be another nunnery, formerly known as Kongoji.  It is said to have been in MInabuchi, and ruins of a temple are found in the southeast of Asuka, in an area known today as, funnily enough, Sakada.  There is also a modern temple known as Kongoji nearby, though I can't tell if there is any connection between the two other than the name— whether its a true successor temple or just given that name because of the proximity of the ruins. Either way, in this phase of the funerary rites, we have a combination of temples and nunneries involved.  I wonder if that was so that men and women could gather in spaces for them.  Either way, it is clear that these rites  were held specifically to build merit for Ohoama.  This was probably also the intent behind the actions of the court a week later, when presents of cloth and silk were made to orphans, as well as childless, widowed, and elderly men and women of the capital—those who didn't have someone else to look after them or who were assumed to not have a stable income. Come the first day of the new year of 687, we see a return to the palace of temporary interment, and this time it is in a new and different fashion.  We are told that the Crown Prince, accompanied by ministers and public functionaries, proceeded to the Palace of Temporary Interments and made lament.  We are told that it was the Nagon, Fuwe no Ason no Miaruji, who performed the eulogy, after which everyone once again raised a lament.  Then the common people raised a lament.  Then Ki no Ason and others of the High Stewards of the Palace made food offerings.  After this, the Uneme of the Steward's department raised a lament and then music was performed by the officials of the Department of Music. This clearly indicates an involved ceremony, with set roles and functions.  It is being headed by Ohoama's son, Crown Prince Kusakabe, and attended by all the high ministers, and it is being held on the first of the year in place of other festivities for that day.  Other than the timing, the basic pattern of events is similar to the other rituals of lamentation.  .  The contents of the ceremony might be different, and it was always someone new who was chosen to give the formal eulogy, but there does seem to be some ritual and pattern to the rites performed.  For major ceremonies, we are told of the Crown Prince, the ministers, and the various public functionaries who are there, in attendance, but in other instances we are just told of who is providing the lamentations or the eulogy.  For example, on the 5th day of the first month—four months after the big ceremony, we are told that everyone—Crown Prince down to the common people—proceeded to the Palace of temporary interment and made lamentations. Either way, the period for the next year and change is filled with various ceremonies either at the palace of temporary interment, where Ohoama's body lay in state, or elsewhere in the capital, such as at various temples.  There were also various gifts from the court.  All of this was as much political spectacle as it was grieving.  There are some suggestions that, according to Confucian tradition, a son was expected to mourn the loss of his father for up to three years.  So perhaps that is part of what was happening—the royal family was participating in some costly signaling to both raise Ohoama—and thus, themselves—up on a pedestal and to try to demonstrate the virtue of Crown Prince Kusakabe.  After all, the Queen and her son had been effectively running the government before Ohoama had passed, so it wasn't like there was any actual change and only minor risk.  The timeframe also allowed the court time to send messengers out to inform the far reaches of the archipelago of Ohoama's passing and give them time to come and do homage.  They even sent messengers to Silla, no doubt to both let them know about what had happened and possibly to solicit a condolence embassy.  All of that would also play into the pageantry and mythmaking of the moment, further strengthening the position of the Yamato court, which was, of course, under the control of Uno no Sarara and her son. And so we see numerous, and quite public, displays.  Besides the lamentations and the eulogies, we see repeated gifts to the underprivileged, like giving gifts of coarse and floss silk to those residents of the Capital who were at least 80 years old, as well as to invalids with little hope as well as to the poor people who had no other means to support themselves.  All of it being done in Ohoama's name, even though the reputation no doubt was actually accruing to his son and widow. In the third month we see a special mention: an ornamental chaplet of flowers, known as a mikage, was offered at the Palace of Temporary Interment.  Today, flowers are often found in abundance at Japanese funerals.  Certain flowers may be "gifted" to the deceased as a last gift from mourners, and large, elaborate flower constructions are often used to decorate the funeral parlor where the corpse is laid out.  Groups and individuals may pay exorbitant sums to place flowers with a name card indicating who donated it, and some flowers may be for the grieving family to take home.  There are meanings behind the type of flowers, and often white flowers are preferred, as white is often seen as the color of death.  Some of this appears to be influenced by the West, but flowers have long been symbols and used in various ceremonies and rites.  It is possible that some of this was influenced by Buddhist and Tang court rituals.  Or maybe they just wanted something that was sweet smelling to help cover up the inevitable odor that no doubt resulted from leaving a body out for about six months at that point. Whatever the purpose, we aren't given too many details on just what this floral display was.  Aston calls the "mikage" a "chaplet" and Bentley simply describes it as decorative flowers placed at the mogari palace—the palace of temporary interment.  Once the flowers were placed, then Taji no Mabito no Maro performed the ceremony of the eulogy. Next, in the 5th month, we see the Crown Prince and various government officials once again involved.  This time they were accompanied by the chiefs of the Hayato and the Ata of Ohosumi, accompanied by their people, advancing and providing a eulogy.  The Hayato and the Ata were both indigenous groups of people from southern Kyushu, who were considered to be outside of the Yamato polity, with distinct cultural differences.  It is unclear if they were ethnically Wa people.  Evidence from that area suggests that the people there, whatever their ethnicity, had adopted many of the Yayoi and Kofun cultural life-ways.  This was not without some differences, such as distinct burial practices, such as underground burial chambers.  Hayato were also known in Yamato for their shields, which are often depicted as long, thin pentagonal shapes with red, white, and black figural paintings. The propaganda-slash-merit making continued over the next few months.  In the 6th month we see an amnesty, where criminals were pardoned, and in the 7th month the court unilaterally cancelled out any interest on debts contracted in the year 685 or earlier.  In cases where the debtors already owed service to their creditors, for some reason, they made it so that the creditors could not demand that they provide additional service.  People still had to pay back the balance, but they didn't have to pay back anything extra. The next ceremony at the palace of temporary interment wasn't for about three months later, in the 8th month of 687.  We are told that offerings of food were made, and that only awokimono—green things—were offered.  Bentley translates this passage to say that it was the feast of first fruits, the Niinamesai, and they do use the character for "namé", but not the full name.  As for "Awokimono" – Aston translates this as plain, boiled rice, and says it is meant that it was without meat of any kind.  Indeed, the characters appear to be for blue or green cooked rice.  There is another reading for "Awokimono" as "Hijikioono", and Aston suggests that there may have been some hijiki, or seaweed, involved.  Regardless this appears to have been specifically a funerary tradition. A day after the food was offered—and we aren't told who did that—the elderly people of the capital, both men and women—some possibly with new duds thanks to the silk they had received earlier—came and made lamentation west of the bridge.  I suspect that this means they didn't enter the actual courtyard where the palace of temporary interment was set up, but simply gathered on the west side of the Asuka River, which flowed past the west side of the courtyard.  Later that month, we see another Buddhist ceremony.  Fujiwara no Ason no Ohoshima and Kibumi no Muraji no Ohotomo invited 300 Buddhist dignitaries, known as Ryuuzou and Daitoku, to Asukadera.  There they gave each one of them the present of a kesa—a Buddhist sash worn as part of their vestments.   Kesa were typically stitched together from cloth donated by Buddhist laypersons, and we are told that these kesa were made from the garments of the late sovereign.  The language of the decree itself was apparently so painful—Aston translates it as pathetic—that it couldn't be fully set forth.  That sounds to me like someone forgot to write it down. Eleven days after the assembly at Asukadera, a national Buddhist feast was sponsored at all of the Temples in the capital.  The day after that, a feast was sponsored at the mogari palace. Later that same month, Silla ambassadors arrived at the archipelago.  The Dazai, the viceroy of Tsukushi, met with them and informed them of what had happened.  It is likely that they had left before any word had reached the peninsula, so this was the first they heard of it.  Nonetheless, they all put on mourning clothes, turned to face the East, and bowed three times and raised lamentations.  This was all being done in Kyushu, but nonetheless it was clearly important to the people who were recording these interactions. A similar note in the record appears on the 23rd day of the first month of the following year, where we are told that Ohoama's death was announced to the Silla ambassador, Gim Sangnim, and his colleagues.  They, in turn, made their lament three times.  It is possible that these are records of the same event, and I even wonder if one was recorded on the date they arrived and the other was recorded on the date that they were formally told what was happening.  Either that, or the events of the 9th month of 687 were an informal notice, so that they could get ready, after which they traveled the three months and change to Asuka, where they then were given the formal notification. Moving on to finish out the year 687: on the 22nd day of the 10th month, the Crown Prince and government officials, along with all of the governors and Kuni no MIyatsuko—and not forgetting the common people—all began work on the sovereign's tomb.  This is one of the few tombs that we have some confidence in, though it isn't a keyhole shaped kofun like many others from previous eras.  Today it looks mostly like a round hill, but originally it seems to have been an eight-sided tomb with five distinct levels.  Eight sides suggests a Buddhist influence, as eight is an auspicious number, such as in the 8-fold path.  I can't help but wonder if the five levels were connected to concepts of five in Confucian and Daoist teachings.  For instance, there was the idea of five Confucian virtues as well as the Wuxing, or Gogyou, where we have five specific elements.  Given the importance and influence of continental thinking at the time, neither one would surprise me. The tomb would take almost a year to complete, which almost doesn't seem like enough time given everything that they did.  It is possible that they had already prepped much of what they needed and that the 10th month of 687 was simply the date they broke ground, but either way it was an impressive feat. Meanwhile, as the construction was ongoing, the public displays of mourning continued.  Once again, new year's day celebrations of 688 were postponed in favor of public mourning, with the Crown Prince and all of the ministers making their lamentations on the first day of the year, followed by a company of priests the following day. On the 8th day of the first month of the year we are told that there was a public great congregation of priests held at Yakushiji.  This is the first official event held at Yakushiji, and so presumably the temple was now finished—or at least finished enough.  Since Ohoama isn't mentioned, it is certainly possible that this wasn't directly connected to the ceremonies around the official mourning of Ohoama.  On the other hand, Yakushiji was commissioned by Ohoama for the health of his wife, Uno no Sarara, so I have a hard time thinking that there weren't any connections at all. In the second month of 688, we get a decree that has a few different interpretations.  The decree states that, "in the future, on all days of national mourning, it is absolutely necessary that abstinence be practiced."  Bentley translates this to mean that there would be a feast on the day of national mourning every year after.  The key contention appears to be whether or not the day of mourning was a monthly or annual thing.  The court appears to have been creating a national holiday around the memory of Ohoama, and it may have chosen the second month for that day of mourning and remembrance.  Alternatively, this was for a day of mourning each month of the current year.  The wording is vague.  It is like the question of whether or not "Bi-weekly" means twice a week or once every two weeks, and I don't know that there is any consensus.  Still, it is interesting that they created their own holiday to remember Ohoama, and as far as I can tell this is the first such example of a holiday being used to remember a person in this way. Once again on the 22nd day of the third month, flowers were again presented at the palace of temporary interment.  This was only two days different from when the mikage had been set up in the previous year, so it would seem that the timing was significant—possibly because it was spring and the flowers were blooming.  Fujiwara no Ason no Ohoshima, the same individual who had helped gather the various priests together at Asukadera to hand out kesa made of the sovereign's own garments, presented the eulogy. The ceremonies are then put on hold for a bit.  There is an account from the 11th day of the 6th month where prisoners guilty of capital crimes would have their punishment mitigated one degree while those in prison for lighter offenses would be pardoned altogether.  In addition, only half of the commuted taxes were to be levied.  This might have been more merit-working for Ohoama or it may have been because the nation itself was undergoing a drought and they were seeking the Buddha's favor to bring the rains. Once again in the 8th month we see offerings of food are made, and a lament raised inside the palace of temporary interment.  This time the eulogy was performed by Ohotomo no Sukune no Yasumaro.  The day after that, Prince Ise was given commands regarding how the upcoming funeral was to be handled, which was to happen three months later. The 11th month kicked off with the Crown prince and the ministers once more going to the palace of temporary interment, this time on the 4th day of the month.  They had with them guests from the "frontier lands" as Aston notes—Bentley says foreign countries.  Offerings of food were made, and the Tatefushi dance was performed.  This was a dance with shields and swords, according to later records.  It seems that the dancers also wore armor, or something to approximate armor.  All of the ministers then advanced, each in turn, and pronounced a eulogy, with each recounting the services that their ancestors had rendered to the throne. The following day, there was further ceremony as over 190 Emishi brought tribute in on their backs, and pronounced a eulogy for the departed sovereign. Six days later, on the 11th day of the 11th month, Fuse no Ason no Miaruji and Ohotomo no Sukune no Mimiyuki both pronounced eulogies, and then Tahema no Mabito no Chitoko recited, as a eulogy, the succession to the throne of the royal ancestors.  And when that was finished, Ohoama's body was finally placed in the Ohouchi tomb and the tomb was sealed. And with that, the sovereign was put to rest, after over two years of mourning and ceremony, specifically designed to put on display the court's apparent grief.  Whether they were actually grieved or not, the importance was the performance of grief through the rituals set forth by the state.  Individuals and groups demonstrated their loyalty through their participation.  Noble families used the platform to recount their service and thus demonstrate their own history and pedigree and thus why they were deserving of their status in the court. Furthermore, during all this ceremony around the funerary arrangements, to try to  also have an ascension ceremony for the new sovereign was probably a little too much to try and push through.  It would have also meant that they would been holding a ceremony that should be joyful and august under the pall of the mourning period.  For the Crown Prince to don the robes of office while his father's body lay in the courtyard was probably, as they say, a bad look.  And, as I mentioned earlier, it wasn't like it was making any real, practical difference.  The ship of state was hardly rudderless, with Kusakabe and his mother both guiding it through the various ceremonies. Sure enough, in the following year, 689, the new year ceremonies were no longer about mourning and lamentation.  The queen gave an audience to all the lands in the Front Hall, and the following day the Ministry of Education presented 80 wooden staves, presumably for an old form of the Setsubun festival.  Today, Setsubun, the day before Spring, is celebrated with soybeans, which are tossed at characters in oni masks, and then inside the house.  The cries ring out "Oni ga soto" – "Demons Out" and then again, "Fuku ga uchi" – "Good luck inside!"  Thus evil spirits are kept at bay and good fortune is welcomed into the home.  In the older version of a similar ritual, it seems that wooden staves were used to symbolically drive the demons out, rather than just a handful of auspicious beans. The first month of year 689 continued to look a lot like previous years, prior to Ohoama's death.  There was a banquet given to the Ministers, and gifts of clothing were handed out to them.  And then, halfway through the month, the various officials brought presents of firewood to the palace.  And then a meal was given to the various public functionaries. A few days after that, Queen Uno left to visit the Yoshino palace for a few days, returning two days later. There is something that is not mentioned in all of this that I suspect was happening.  First of all, they had no doubt torn down the palace of Temporary Interment, and they were likely preparing for Crown Prince Kusakabe's ascension.  There are some that suspect Prince Kusakabe was waiting until three years had passed before taking the throne, mimicking a tradition sometimes observed on the continent, but nothing is explicitly said. Instead, we see that on the 24th day of the 3rd month there was another amnesty across the realm,  and we are explicitly told that crimes that hadn't been pardoned in ordinary amnesties were also excepted in this amnesty.  Amnesties typically seem to be part of merit-making to either prevent disaster or to celebrate something auspicious.  Was this clearing the way for the ascension ceremony to take place?  Or had something befallen the royal family? We aren't given many details, but on the 13th day of the 4th month, we are simply told that Crown Prince Kusakabe died.  We aren't told that he had previously been ill, or that anything in particular had happened.  It is just a simple line in the text.  And yet, this must have had tremendously serious consequences.  I think we can fairly safely assume that he was prepared to ascend the throne—unless he was thinking of pulling something like Naka no Oe and running things from behind the scenes.  However, there is plenty of evidence that Uno no Sarara was more likely to be the one to step back and be the power in the shadow.  She had operated from that position before. Whatever the plan was, clearly that plan was no more.  Crown Prince Kusakabe was dead, and his only heir was still a young child.  He also had no brothers to take the throne.  The Chronicles don't mention it, but this must have been a moment of incredible weakness for the court and the Queen.  History as we know it could have turned out very differently from this point. Also, sidebar—Prince Kusakabe's death is recorded on the 13th day of the 4th month.  While 13 would not necessarily be an inauspicious day until the Western superstition was introduced in recent times, the number 4 has long been associated with death because the pronunciation, "Shi" is the same as—or at least very similar to—the pronunciation of the character for death.  This is also the case in Chinese, and so the number four is often avoided and seen as unlucky.  Sometimes hotels will skip both the 4th and 13th floors in Asia to avoid any inauspicious vibes.  In Japanese, the numbers 4—"Shi" and seven—"Shichi"—will often be pronounced with their kun'yomi readings, so "yon" and "nana" respectively.  So I just find it rather an unfortunate coincidence that Crown Prince Kusakabe died on the 13th day of the 4th month.  Yikes. Anyway, if there was any wavering or grief by Uno no Sarara, it isn't mentioned in the Chronicles.  They continue to march on.  Later that same month, Prince Kasuga passed away.  Prince Kasuga was a non-royal prince, and the death of Prince Kasuga and the Crown Prince were met with an equal lack of fanfare or explanation.  Compare to the death of Prince Ohotsu, who was given an entire eulogy about how he was really well liked. Instead, the Chronicle simply moves on.  The rest of the year passes by as though nothing had happened.  The government continued with Uno no Sarara at its head.  In the first day of the first month of the following year, Uno no Sarara formally ascended to the royal dignity in a ceremony where Mononobe no Maro set up the shields, Nakatomi no Ohoshima recited a prayer for the blessings of Heaven, and Imbe no Shikofuchi delivered the divine seal, sword, and mirror to her majesty.  At that point all of the ministers and government officials made their obeisance in turn, clapping their hands as  they did so. One has to wonder if this ceremony wasn't a little bittersweet, given everything that had happened. A few things about the ceremony to note.  First are the three families mentioned:  Despite the fact that the Mononobe house had been defeated by the Soga centuries back, here they stand in their traditional role as soldiers, raising up the shield.  Then we see Nakatomi no Ohoshima—earlier mentioned as Fujiwara no Ohoshima—as the director of the Ministry of Kami matters, handling the ceremony.  And then there is the Imbe, in some ways the rival to the Nakatomi and their descendants, the Fujiwara, who is handling the regalia. Also of note is that the three regalia here are not the jewel, sword, and mirror, but the seal, sword, and mirror.  We mentioned this many episodes back when we had seen these same three used for the ascension ceremony, and noted then that a royal seal appears to be used, rather than mention of a jewel.  The character used, on the continent, referred to the imperial seal of the dynasty, which itself would have been carved into jade, or a jewel.  And in Japan the character is also said to refer to the "Yasakani-magatama", the sacred jewel.  So was it the jewel, and they just called it the seal?  Or is that a later attribution to try and maintain the concept that the three regalia remained the same?  I couldn't honestly say, but either way we see the concept of these three regalia as central to the ceremony. And with that, Uno no Sarara, known to us as Jitou Tennou, ascended the throne.  She would continue the process of making updates to the court and to the laws and regulations.  She would also see the creation of the Fujiwara palace and accompanying city—designed as the first permanent capital city in all of Japan.  She would also take a hard line with Silla and make her mark on the world stage, as well.  But we'll talk about that in future episodes. And so, until next time, 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.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Hay actores que tienen una carrera. Y luego está Leonardo DiCaprio, que lleva tres décadas persiguiendo algo mucho más incómodo: no repetirse nunca. De niño prodigio en ¿A quién ama Gilbert Grape? a fenómeno global con Titanic. De ídolo generacional a actor obsesivo capaz de desaparecer dentro de personajes como los de El aviador, El lobo de Wall Street o El renacido. Este NO LIMITS no va solo de repasar su filmografía. Va de entender por qué, cuando todo el mundo esperaba que se acomodara… decidió ponerse en manos de gente como Martin Scorsese o Christopher Nolan y jugar siempre al límite. Hablamos de sus métodos, de su obsesión por la autenticidad, de los rodajes extremos, de las veces que casi rompe su propia imagen… y de cómo convirtió cada elección en una declaración de intenciones.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

Esta semana en Nakatomi Radio nos metemos de lleno en Reality Bites, la película que definió —y casi condenó— a toda una generación a vivir con la sensación de estar siempre a punto de empezar algo… que nunca termina de arrancar. Ben Stiller dirige y protagoniza esta historia junto a Winona Ryder, Ethan Hawke y Janeane Garofalo, en un retrato generacional que mezcla amor, frustración, cintas de vídeo, trabajos basura y ese miedo silencioso a no estar a la altura de lo que uno soñaba ser. Hablamos de su contexto, de por qué esta película se convirtió en un símbolo de los 90… y también de por qué, vista hoy, duele de una manera distinta. Porque Reality Bites no va solo de crecer. Va de descubrir que crecer no era lo que te habían vendido.

Another episode, another new reign--same old problems.  This episode we talk about what happened after Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno, passed away.  We'll touch on the fact that it wasn't entirely a smooth transition, and there are certainly hints that not everyone was in agreement as to what should happen.  And then there were other problems, such that the heir apparent never actually took the throne.  So what happened? For more information on the main characters in this episode, check out the blogpost at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-147  (Also apologies ahead of time--my voice was not in great shape, and that may come through on the audio) Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 147: Here We Go Again   Iki no Hakatoko looked around the spacious room and recognized many of the faces he saw there.  There were various nobles from around the court present.  All of them were familiar, even if they were not the closest of acquaintances—they ran in similar circles and were connected to each other over various political positions.  Some were connected by marriage, some were just allies, and others were almost rivals—but they were all there for a common cause. The open chamber had been buzzing as all of those elites of Yamato talked about why they might have gathered.  Of course, the big news was the death of the sovereign.  Ohoama had passed away, and the court was formally in mourning. And yet the government seemed stable.    The Queen was at the helm, guiding t he government, and her son was beside her as the Crown Prince.  So what was everyone doing here, gathering for what they could only assume were… other options? Finally, the buzzing started to die down as the doors to the chamber were closed and guards posted.  And then, the host for the discussion arrived, as Royal Prince Ohotsu stepped out and greeted all of his soon-to-be co-conspirators….     This episode, at long last, we are about to dive into a new reign.  And if you haven't picked up by now, this, the end of the 7th century, was a turbulent time.  Although the court had been instituting reforms to be more like the courts on the continent—and it wasn't like Ohoama died without any heir whatsoever—things were still unstable.  I know, shocker, right? So what happened? Let's go over the history some, and the main players, and then we can see what happened and the aftermath. Before that, however, let's talk about what we might expect to have happened, if everything had worked like clockwork. While Ohoama passed away in 686, it wasn't as if he hadn't made any plans.  His wife and Queen, Uno no Sarara, was deeply entrenched in governmental affairs, and their son, Prince Kusakabe, had been named Crown Prince in 681.  This meant that both were in positions of significant power within the current government.  All things being equal, and assuming a Confucian model, one would expect that upon Ohoama's passing, Kusakabe would step up and take the reins of the government, ascending to the throne as the new ruler.  Uno would oversee the transition and take her place as the Queen Mother, remaining in the palace and helping to shepherd the new rule, while one of Kusakabe's wives—probably Abe-hime, who, like her half-sister Uno, was also a daughter of Naka no Oe—would become his queen. And yet that is not what happened.  Prince Kusakabe does not show up in our list of sovereigns, and we are told he never ascended the throne.  Instead, his mother, Uno no Sarara, came to power.  So what exactly happened?  Why would she not have handed over power to her only son and set him up on the throne?  To understand all of that, I think there are several things we need to discuss, first of them being just how tenuous and fragile transitions like this were. If you've been listening to the podcast for a while, you might be nodding in agreement with this statement: for more than a century, at this point, whatever high-minded ideals the rulers of Yamato may have espoused, their path to the throne had been covered in blood.  Let's roll back to the events of 587.  We talked about this in Episode 91, when the Soga and Mononobe families had each lined up behind different aspirants to the royal throne.  The Mononobe were a powerful family, known to be warriors for the throne, and the head of the Mononobe, the Ohomuraji, Moriya, was one of the most influential people at court.  However, in recent years, the Soga family had been on the rise.  Soga no Iname had married his daughters to members of the royal family, and he and his son, Umako, were known as the Ohoomi.  The Mononobe were not having it with these uppity newcomers, but the Soga seem to have built their power, anyway, likely using their connections to the continent to do so.  In a series of succession disputes, the Soga came out on top, defeating the Mononobe and eventually killing Moriya.  It was a bloody fight, but eventually the Soga's royal relatives won out. This brought Hasebe Wakasasagi, aka Sushun Tennou, to the throne.  For a time, Wakasasagi and Soga no Umako ruled the land, but eventually Wakasasagi grew suspicious of Umako—perhaps jealous of his power.  He considered taking him out, but Umako caught wind and had the sovereign assassinated, instead.  Umako then put his own niece, Kashikiya Hime, on the throne, where most know her as Suiko Tennou. Kashikiya was no stranger to the court, having served as the wife of her own half-brother, Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  Kashikya is thought to have been a compromise candidate, chosen specifically to avert any further power struggles.  Certainly, Umako did not want a repeat performance of what had just happened with Wakasasagi.  And though she reigned, power was apparently shared between Soga no Umako, Kashikiya Hime, and Kashikiya Hime's nephew—Umako's grandnephew—Crown Prince Umayado, aka the legendary Shotoku Taishi.   By all rights, it seemed like things should have gone smoothly.  Umako, the eldest, would pass away to be succeeded by his niece, and it would make sense that after Kashikiya Hime's passing, Umayado would assume the throne.  Instead, Umayado would be the first to pass, creating uncertainty as to the future of the throne.  Then Umako would follow several years later.  Finally, Suiko would pass away soon thereafter. So, in about six years the three most powerful people in court all passed away.  Soga no Umako's son, Soga no Emishi, was still coming out from under his father's shadow.  Furthermore, it was not clear who should sit the throne—should it be Prince Yamashiro no Oe, the son of the Crown Prince, Umayado?  After all, his father would have likely inherited the throne and then it would have no doubt been passed to him.  And yet, there was another contender: Prince Tamura.  Ultimately Soga no Emishi backed Prince Tamura, a man with ties to Nunakura through both his father and mother, and yet who was not truly a royal prince in that his own parents had never held the throne.  Then again, neither had Umayado.  Eventually, Prince Yamashiro no Oe would back down from his claim to avoid bloodshed—and yet blood would be shed anyway.  When Prince Tamura died,  in an apparent bid to keep Soga power and quash any resistance before it started up, Soga no Emishi had Tamura's wife, Takara hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou, installed—but Prince Yamashiro no Ohoe was still alive, and his heirs were still out there.  Soga no Emishi appeared to be content, but his son and heir, Soga no Iruka, was not. And when his father was ill and Iruka had a free hand, he ordered the destruction of Prince Yamashiro no Oe, presumably to avoid a future challenge to the throne and thus to the Soga family's hold on power. This move shocked many, and rather than preventing conflict, it seems to have stirred up ill feelings against the Soga for their heavy hand in the politics of the period.  This would lead Prince Naka no Ohoe and several co-conspirators to rise up, killing Soga no Iruka in court, and then attacking his father, Soga no Emishi, in their home.  See episode 106 for more on that, known as the Isshi Incident.  Naka no Ohoe and his supporters would take their place in the court, but Naka no Ohoe would not ascend to the throne, himself – at least not yet.  Instead, he took the position of Crown Prince, and his uncle, Prince Karu,aka Kotoku Tennou,  took the throne.  However, that still left a loose end.  Prince Furubito no Oe, who had appeared to be the favorite for the throne under the Soga, was still alive.  Furubito no Oe was the son of Tamura and a Soga consort—Hotei no Iratsume, the daughter of Soga no Umako.  Although the Chronicles do not mention it, he seems to have been well placed to be Crown Prince in place of Naka no Oe, especially in a Soga dominated court.  Without that backing, however, his claim may not have been quite so strong.  He had gone into exile in Yoshino, but opponents of Naka no Oe's faction and their bloody coup began to use him as a rallying point.  It is unclear if Prince Furubito himself had any ambitions, but the fact remained that he was a threat, nonetheless, and Prince Naka no Oe had him taken out. By controlling things from behind the throne, Prince Naka no Oe seems to have been able to keep things fairly stable.  When his uncle Karu  passed away, the throne went back to his mother, who is known as Saimei Tennou in her second reign, but Naka no Oe was still in a place of considerable power, and the continuity likely helped keep things on track.  Then Takara Hime passed away in the midst of a national crisis—the mobilization to support Baekje against the Silla-Tang alliance.  That military effort turned out to be less than successful, but by that point, there does not seem to have been much question over who was in charge – it was finally Naka no Oe's turn to take the throne, and he did, as Tenji Tennou. And so it wasn't until Naka no Oe's own death that we again see major violence.  Naka no Oe's brother, Ohoama, is said to have been the Crown Prince, but then Naka no Oe's son, Ohotomo, came of age.  He was made the Dajo Daijin and supported by the most powerful nobles in court.   It is clear that there were divergent factions within the court itself, though, with some supporting Ohotomo and others supporting Ohoama.  In the midst of this, Ohoama chose to bow out, at least while his brother Naka no Oe was still on the throne.  However, Ohotomo and his supporters could not leave Ohoama out there as a loose end.  They knew that he still had a claim and supporters, and they started to make plans to move against him after Naka no Oe's death.  They were too slow, however—Ohoama caught word and moved against the court, instead.  In a bloody struggle that upended the politics of the court one more time, Ohoama came to the throne.  That struggle, the Jinshin no Ran, was covered in detail in episodes 129 to 132. So if we look back we can see that for all of the thoughts of inheritance and legitimacy, most of those who had ascended the throne had done so by eliminating their rivals—either before or just after they assumed the royal mantle.  As such, this is something that Ohoama was, himself, quite concerned about, and he took several steps to try to avoid a repeat of this scenario. First, and perhaps somewhat confusingly, he ensured that those in positions of authority in the government were largely tied by blood to the royal family.  The royal and non-royal princes were all nominally related in one way, shape, or form.  If nothing else this meant that the nobility— those elites without direct blood ties to the throne—were not, themselves, gaining the kind of power and authority that had previously been given out to families like the Ohotomo, the Mononobe, and the Soga.  We don't even hear that much about the relatives of Nakatomi no Kamatari, who had achieved such heights under Naka no Oe that he had become the Naidaijin, the great minister of the interior. One might think that this system still had issues, however.  After all, each princely line had their own tie to a previous sovereign, and we've certainly seen times where a sovereign came in out of left field, with a nominal, but hardly convincing, connection to the throne.  This is particularly true in a time when succession was still not necessarily a strictly patrilineal custom; where it was not unusual for a senior family member to take up the mantle of leadership, rather than just the first-born son of the current ruler. And that seems to be why Ohoama also held the Yoshino conference with his immediate family members in 679.  This included his Queen Consort, Uno; the Royal Prince Kusakabe, the Royal Prince Ohotsu, the Royal Prince Takechi, the Royal Prince Kawashima, the Royal Prince Osakabe, and the Royal Prince Shiki.  These were sons of both Ohoama and Naka no Oe, but they were all considered to be loyal insiders of the royal family.  Ohoama had them swear to work together and to protect one another.  And yet, as we shall see, that promise does not seem to have survived Ohoama himself. So let's talk about some of these characters, now that we are here at another question of succession.  We'll start with the Queen herself, Uno no Sarara. Uno was born in 645, the daughter of Naka no Oe and a consort, Wochi no Iratsume, daughter of Soga no Yamada no Ishikawa no Maro.  Ishikawa no Maro had been a powerful ally of Naka no Oe, assisting with the overthrow of his own uncle and cousin, Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka.  In turn, he seems to have become the head of the Soga family.  Despite the rhetoric that the Soga family was destroyed, it was more that the power of Emishi and Iruka was broken.  Ishikawa no Maro had parlayed his assistance into another means to access power at the court, and married his own daughter to Naka no Oe.  That worked until it didn't—enemies in court slandered Ishikawa no Maro and Naka no Oe had him killed in 649. Wochi no Iratsume would have three children with Naka no Oe.  The eldest was Princess Ota, followed by Princess Uno, and finally Prince Takeru.  There is a theory that she died in 651, giving birth to Prince Takeru.  Prince Takeru himself would only survive a short while passing away in 658.  He was only seven years old. Both Princess Ohota and Princess Uno were married off to their uncle, Prince Ohoama.  Princess Ohota was the elder of the two, and bore Princess Ohoku and Prince Ohotsu, whom we'll discuss in a bit.  However, Princess Ohota passed away in 667, during the reign of Naka no Oe, and so did not play as big a role in the politics of the day as her younger sister. Uno, on the other hand, appears to have been Ohoama's ride-or-die.  They were married when she was only thirteen years old, and she followed him when he and Naka no Oe went to Kyushu to oversee the war on the peninsula.  It was there that she gave birth to her first and only son in 662.  She left the court behind to follow Ohoama to Yoshino, along with their son, Prince Kusakabe.  She then followed Ohoama on his lightning blitz through the mountains over to the east.  It is said that while he went on to the front, she maintained a place in the relative safety of the land of Mie.  From there she likely organized the rearguard and would have been involved with the back-end logistics.  She is also said to have made particular entreaties to the deities of Ise shrine, and may have had a hand in raising the Shrine to greater prominence during the reign of Ohoama and later. A key note is the fact that, when Ohoama became ill, and could not effectively manage the affairs of state, Uno stepped in and made sure that things continued to operate.  And so, when Ohoama finally passed away, his projects were not simply left hanging—his queen and consort, Uno no Sarara, was there to see that everything remained on track. As queen, Uno's son, Prince Kusakabe, was the favorite to succeed his father.  In fact, in 681, he was named Crown Prince at the age of 19.  Kusakabe had even married his own aunt, Princess Abe—his mother's half-sister.  Princess Abe was another daughter of Naka no Oe and a Soga related consort; in this case it was Wochi no Iratsume's younger sister, Mehi no Iratsume—sometimes called Sakurai no Iratsume.  I should note that Princess Abe was only about 20 years old in 681, only a year older than the Crown Prince, so it isn't like there was a huge age gap between them, even if he was technically marrying his own aunt.  Still, they had already had a child between them the year before, in 680—this was Princess Hidaka or Niimi.  Two years later, in 683, they had another child, Prince Karu, and later we know that they had a third child, Princess Kibi.  This is all a pretty good start for a future sovereign, and Kusakabe seems to have been on track to succeed his father. By all rights, it seems that Kusakabe should have stepped up in 686 to take the throne, but that was not to be.  Instead, his mother, Queen Uno no Sarara, would retain her place at the head of the government.  It is possible that this was meant to be merely temporary —there were still many things to be taken care of.  With Ohoama's death there were numerous rituals having to do with his interment, and the Crown Prince, Kusakabe, appears to have been integral to those events.  Whereas we may have previously seen powerful nobles step up, with the increased influence of Confucianism, it makes sense that a son would be responsible for ensuring that things were taken care of.   There was also the issue of a new palace that would need to be built, and the court would need to prepare for the various enthronement ceremonies.  After all, Naka no Oe himself wasn't formally enthroned for three years into his supposed reign. And just like his grandfather, as Crown Prince, Kusakabe maintained a powerful portfolio at the court that would still allow him to have a heavy hand on the rudder of the ship of state.  In fact, had things gone differently, then the Chroniclers may have simply counted these early years as part of Kusakabe's reign, as they had done with Naka no Oe. And all that would have been great—except that, despite all those nice family agreements at Yoshino, there were others who seem to have had designs on the throne. The first claim that likely could have been made was by Prince Takechi.  Prince Takechi—written as Takaichi, like the district of the same name—was technically the eldest son of Ohoama.  He had been called to Ohoama's side during the Jinshin no Ran, and given nominal control over the troops waiting to cross the pass from Ohowari into Afumi.  This was likely more of a sinecure, however; Prince Takechi was still quite young, and while the position would no doubt teach him much about organization and leadership, I certainly hope that there were more experienced individuals assisting him. However, for all of that, Prince Takechi had a major strike against him In the form of his parentage.  Although he was Ohoama's eldest son, his mother was not a royal princess.  Instead she was Amago no Iratsume, the daughter of the powerful head of the Munakata family, Munakata no Tokusen. Munakata was a powerful area on the northwest coast of Tsukushi—modern Kyushu.  It is famous for the three Munakata shrines.  The outer, or Hetsu, shrine is on the land, but the middle shrine is on the island of Ohoshima, 11 kilometers from the Hetsu shrine.  Then the Oki, or deep sea, shrine is on the aptly named Okinoshima, another 49 kilometers past that, out in the middle of the Genkai Sea, the body of water between Kyushu, Tsushima, and the Korean peninsula.  Even today, Okinoshima is considered a sacred place, and has never been developed: even today, only those closely associated with the shrine are allowed to set foot there.  Because of that we can see something remarkable, as Okinoshima was held as sacred for hundreds of years, during which time, offerings were regularly made to the kami there, presumably for safe passage across the waters.  These offerings have accumulated over the centuries and serve as a fascinating glimpse back into the history of the shrine and of the relations between the archipelago and the peninsula. The land of Munakata—and by extension the rulers, or Kimi—appear to have had not inconsiderable influence over the trade back and forth across the ocean to the continent.  This is further corroborated by the wealth left at Okinoshima and elsewhere, as well as by large kofun nearby, thought to be those of the ruling family of the area.  This would have no doubt been a powerful and prestigious family to be allied with, especially in Ohoama's role as a Prince.  However, despite all of that, they were not, ultimately, a royal family.   That would seem to have made Prince Takechi ineligible to take the throne—at least without some serious backing and perhaps a little re-working of his parentage. And this brings us to the third eldest son of Ohoama:  Prince Ohotsu.  Unlike Prince Takechi, Prince Ohotsu was the son of a royal princess—Princess Ohota.  In fact, not only was she a royal princess, but she was the sister to Queen Uno.  And Prince Ohotsu was born only a year later than Prince Kusakabe.  Furthermore, during the Jinshin no Ran, Prince Ohotsu was called to Ohoama's side, along with his half-brother, Prince Takechi, and he is specifically mentioned in that role, despite the fact that he was still too young to have played much of a role.  Like Prince Kusakabe, Prince Ohotsu was in his early twenties. So if we put Kusakabe and Ohotsu side-by-side, we can see that they have a lot of similar qualifications. Both were the sons of Ohoama by daughters of Naka no Oe, giving them double-royal lineages.  Their mothers were even full sisters, so they were both great-grandsons of Soga no Ishikawa no Maro, for whatever that means.  Kusakabe was older by a day, but Ohotsu's mother was the eldest of the two sisters.  But for the fact that his mother had passed away, she could possibly have been declared Queen, and Ohotsu might have ended up as Crown Prince, instead of Kusakabe.  Even if something had simply befallen Kusakabe, Ohotsu likely would have been able to step in, especially since Kusakabe had no full-blooded siblings, himself. The reign of Ohoama is replete with examples of Kusakabe, Ohotsu, and Takechi often acting together or being given honors together.  While it is always clear to rank them in that order, it is also clear that all three seemed to hold a place of high esteem.   What we don't seem to see is any ill will between them—but then again, the Chronicles rarely give much attention to anyone who is not the sovereign except to mention them in passing.  As such, we get only a simple sentence in the record, dated barely two weeks after Ohoama's passing, that Prince Ohotsu conspired against the Crown Prince, which is to say, Prince Kusakabe. As is so frustratingly often the case we aren't told how he was conspiring.  Clearly, it refers to succession and we can see that it wouldn't take much for Ohotsu to gather support and place himself on the throne—had that occurred, we likely would see some differences in the Chronicles as well.  However, as it stood, the conspiracy came to naught.  We are told that about one more week later, after the temporary interment of Ohoama's body and the many, many days spent eulogizing him and those around him—seriously, the Chronicles go into way too much detail, which is great for giving us a lot of details on people in the court and their court ranks, but otherwise is mostly paragraphs of names of individuals who were likely important enough for the Chroniclers to ensure that they got at least a mention. It was after that was finished that we are told that Prince Ohotsu's conspiracy was discovered.  He had the support of some thirty nobles, including a priest from Silla and the famous Iki no Muraji no Hakatoko—the one who had written the detailed account of the embassy that had been held under arrest by the Tang court, which we talked about back in Episode 123.  The point is these were people with some amount of clout and who moved in important circles, and for thirty of them to be in Ohotsu's camp might not seem like much, but that doesn't begin to illuminate all of the people that they would have brought with them to the party.  Furthermore, once they went public, who knows how many others might have joined them.  Fortunately for Kusakabe—and unfortunately for Ohotsu—the would-be conspiracy was quashed and quashed hard.  We are told that it was discovered on the second day of the tenth month of 686—less than 30 days after Ohoama's death—and the Queen herself, Uno no Sarara, stepped in and had Ohotsu executed at his own mansion in Wosada.  She then issued a royal decree, stating to everyone that Ohotsu had committed treason, and that the punishment for treason was death.  She also stated that those who had assisted him were also guilty, and should likewise receive the same sentence, except that she was going to be merciful.  And so she ended up pardoning Prince Ohotsu's co-conspirators.  The only exceptions were Toki no Michidzukuri, who was banished to Idzu, and the Silla priest, who was exiled to a temple in Hida.  While we aren't told what roles they played, those two apparently were considered more complicit than the others. A few days later, Prince Ohotsu's sister, Princess Oku, was recalled from her position as the shrine princess of Ise.  It is unclear if this is related, but it seems relevant given the proximity of the two events. There is one other thing I should likely mention, and that seems to come from the Kaifuso.  The Kaifuso is a collection of continental style poetry from the 8th century, similar to the Man'yoshu, but with a different focus.  In both works they often given some description of the authors of the poems, which provide us more information on the people of the time.  For instance, the Kaifuso speaks favorably of Prince Ohotomo, Ohoama's rival in the Jinshin no Ran, and seems more than a little sympathetic towards him and his cause, compared to the way he is treated in the Nihon Shoki's main narrative.  In regards to our current point in the narrative and the treason of Prince Ohotsu the Kaifuso tells us that Prince Ohotsu was ratted out to the Queen by none other than his best friend, Prince Kawashima.  Prince Kawashima was another one of the princes who had been called to Yoshino and who had pledged to work together.  He was not Ohotsu's brother or even half-brother, however, as Kawashima was the son of Naka no Oe.  He was actually a good deal older than Ohoama's actual sons, but apparently trusted by Ohoama at the same time.  The Kaifuso also seems to tell us that Kawashima was rewarded for his efforts by the court. The only problem is that the Nihon Shoki, our primary source, tells us none of this.  Not only is Prince Kawashima not mentioned in regards to the plot, neither is he mentioned as having received any kind of reward or gift by the court.  That doesn't mean the Kaifuso is wrong, but it does raise the question. Similarly, it is just as easy to suggest that the Nihon Shoki itself may be covering up what actually happened.  After all, we only have one side of the story.  What if there wasn't a conspiracy?  Or what if the conspiracy were of the Queen's making, instead.  Prince Ohotsu was clearly popular, and had a reasonable claim to the throne.  That was a threat to her own son's eventual ascension.  It is possible that the Queen, Uno no Sarara, saw a threat and decided to do away with it, herself, keeping her own son's hands relatively clean in the process. Whatever the truth, we likely will never know, and so this is all we have to go on.  Whether it was an actual conspiracy or just the paranoid  concerns of a queen and mother, it is clear that it was not yet enough to have an heir named—there was always the possibility for these things to go sideways and for someone else to jump in with a claim of their own. For all of that, while it seems that Prince Kusakabe was intended to ascend to the throne, for one reason or another, that was delayed.  For some three years, as we've mentioned, Kusakabe and his mother ruled as Queen and Crown Prince, perhaps just because they were handling Ohoama's burial and the creation of a new palace from which Kusakabe himself could then reign.  Unfortunately, it seems that time accomplished what Prince Ohotsu and his conspirators could not, and in 689, Prince Kusakabe passed away.  Shortly thereafter, the Queen, Uno no Sarara, ascended to the throne herself.  This appears to have been because Kusakabe's own son and heir, Royal Prince Karu, was only about 6 years old, having been born in 683, and his daughter was only 9.  So rather than giving up the throne to some other woman's child, Uno no Sarara took the throne for herself.  She is remembered, today, as Jitou Tennou. Jitou Tennou continued to work the initiatives that had been pushed forward during the reign of her husband.  These were projects that she herself was quite familiar with, and in fact, many of the projects are sometimes thought to have been hers, with attribution given to her husband just to give it a greater air of legitimacy.  Ultimately, however, she would oversee some quite formidable changes, even if many of them started in the previous reign or not. And so begins the last reign of the Nihon Shoki, covering the years 686 to 697.  The Nihon Shoki itself wouldn't be complete and presented to the court for another 23 years or so, and yet this is where they chose to leave off.  Perhaps that is because of when it was started, or they just didn't have all the records ready for anything beyond.  They clearly had to end somewhere, after all.  And given that both Ohoama and Uno had such a hand in many of the changes, perhaps it just made sense to end here.  Much of what would come would set the tone for centuries to come. There is one more thing that I want to address in all of this.  We've talked about the lineages of the various individuals, who trace their lineages back to either powerful noble families, like the Soga, or to specific sovereigns.  There is a tendancy by some to talk about Ohoama having started what some would call the Temmu Dynasty.  The idea being that Ohoama's offspring would continue to reign for a time, displacing the offspring of his brother, Naka no Oe.  Then, at a later date, Naka no Oe's line would reassert itself. This seems to be pretty clear cut from a strictly patrilineal viewpoint of royal succession, but I think it ignores a lot about the cultural aspects of the time.  For one thing, descent was about both the father AND the mother, and too often people discount the mother's influence, when, in fact, the mother most likely had more influence in the raising of children than did a royal father.  After all, we don't exactly get a lot of anecdotes about sovereigns spending quality time with their children—and I don't think calling them to help you on campaign counts.  To be fair we get hardly any anecdotes about children.  But we also see that sovereigns were having multiple children with multiple consorts.  Naka no Oe is said to have had about 14 children—possibly more.  I count 17 children for Ohoama.  And we see the ages spread out across the sovereigns' lifetimes, with some children being born at a point that they had not even attained the age of majority by the time their father passed away.  Put another way, look at how Prince Kusakabe was able to marry his own aunt, who was only a year older than he was.  Clearly there was a bit of an age difference between siblings.  I don't imagine that they were being raised by their father, necessarily, but probably by their mothers and the servants at the palace, generally. I would also point out that Ohoama included both his own children as well as children of his brother in the Yoshino conference, further indicating that he did not have any specific intention to entirely shut out the his brother's line. And then there is Uno no Sarara.  She was Ohoama's spouse, but also the daughter of Naka no Oe.  Are we to think that she stopped being her father's daughter because she married someone? That doesn't mean that labels might not be helpful in some ways, but I just don't want to over emphasize the familial or dynastic connections.  Brothers regularly turned on each other, and blood ties were no guarantee of cordial relations.  In fact, only maternal siblings—those with the same mother—were actually considered true siblings in most cases.  That's how they justified so much of what we would consider incest in the royal family in the first place. So while I do think that Ohoama and Uno tweaked the system set up by Naka no Oe and made their own impression on Yamato and, by extension, Japanese culture, I just don't want to read too much into the lineages.  The stories of politics and royal succession are often much more involved and complex. And hopefully, we'll get to see how complex as we continue on down this path.  For now, I think I'm going to leave it here, and so, until next time, 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.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Rutas de escape es un thriller de persecuciones y robos que, en el fondo, habla de algo más incómodo: qué pasa cuando ya no crees en la vida que has construido. Entre autopistas, decisiones límite y personajes al borde, la película explora esa línea difusa entre huir… o enfrentarte a lo que eres.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! En este No Limits, nos subimos a bordo de Project Hail Mary —o Proyecto Salvación, como ya muchos la llaman— para hablar de ciencia, de soledad… y de ese optimismo casi ingenuo que todavía se atreve a creer que la humanidad puede salvarse a sí misma. Porque sí, hay física. Hay conceptos que te hacen sentir listo… y completamente perdido a la vez.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

This episode we close out discussion of this reign with a bit of a grab bag.  There is the minting of new coins, new letters to write Japanese, board games, and more. For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-146 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 146: Coins, Letters, Games, and More   The large audience hall was filled with nobles, sitting in pairs across from each other.  Throughout the hall, the roof and walls reverberated with the sounds of numerous stone markers being placed on painted wooden tables—or more appropriately, game boards.   It was accompanied by the sound of dice clattering.  At the far end of the hall was the royal presence, where his majesty could likewise join in the entertainment—with someone of sufficient standing, of course. Throughout the day there were bursts of joy and frustration throughout the hall.  In some instances, one could see two players sharing in the joy and love of the game.  In other cases, political rivals stared each other down, neither one willing to give away any strategic advantage.  Any smiles there were merely a mask.  And yet, no matter how hard one tried, there was only so much you could do.  Ultimately, your fate was in the hands of the dice, though you could certainly do your best to nudge it here and there. And so they continued.  As they played, small wagers were made between players.  At the conclusion of their match, each player could find another opponent, and see if their luck held out.  Victory was desired, but at the very least one didn't want to be embarrassed.  As such, losing gracefully was just as important as winning with humility.  Sure, there were  the petty stakes that were gambled here and there, but the real stakes were embedded in the politics of the court.  That was a game  that everyone was playing, except that there was no board, and the rules were often merely suggestions, at best.     This episode we are going to close out the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno.  It has been a while getting here—but then again, Ohoama's reign is the best documented so far, almost like the entire Chronicle has built up to this point.  We have spent about a dozen episodes on this reign—not including the four before that discussing the Jinshin no Ran. During that time we've talked about how Ohoama continued the Ritsuryou experiment, while  at the same time shaping it into something that was even more directly under his control.  A lot of this appears to have been done with the mostly willing consent of a good part of the archipelago. That may have been because of a few different things.  For one, all of this was justified through the philosophical underpinnings of the continent.  This is the new knowledge that the court had been devouring for over a century, and so I suspect that none of it seemed particularly surprising or out of place.  Furthermore, it seems that Ohoama's actions may have appealed to some of the more middle-tier elites; those for whom the idea of a government stipend was quite appealing. There was also the external threat of Silla and Tang.  Though in reality, Silla was in conflict with the Tang dynasty, up until the conclusion of the Silla-Tang War, around 676.  In truth, the Tang court wouldn't recognize Sillan sovereignty south of the Taedong river until 736, so there were still tensions.  However, early on in the reign there was at least the thought that hostilities could spill over onto the archipelago. And then there are all of the projects.  The designation of national temples, the beginning of a national history project, the founding of a permanent capital city, and the creation of a formal code—the Asuka Kiyomihara Code. Compared to all of that, the topics of this episode really are some miscellaneous stuff that I didn't have anywhere else to put, but wanted to bring to light anyway.  First, we'll talk about the minting of coins, and what that meant.  Once again, this is really neat because we actually have some coins that appear to be from this time frame, providing what might be a direct relationship between what is written down and what we have in the archaeological record.  Then we'll touch on another project of Ohoama's—this one less successful than some of the others we've discussed.  This was an attempt to create a new writing system specific to the Japanese language.  Remember, at this point literate people in the archipelago were using kanji to write everything down, and for the most part they were using kanbun—so Sinitic characters and grammar, with occasional use of characters purely for their phonetic qualities when they absolutely had to spell something out.  Eventually this would evolve into the syllabaries of katakana and hiragana, but there were several false starts before that, and we'll talk about what was being attempted during Ohoama's reign. Beyond those court projects we'll talk about some of the kami and Buddhist related rituals, especially as they related to growing merit and attempting to protect the state and its people from disasters—natural or otherwise.  And then there are various omens, and just a few edicts that were more geared towards the court but are still fun, like when Ohoama forced the entire court to join him for a day of… board games.  I guess when you are the sovereign and trying to set up a game day, scheduling is suddenly not so big of a problem. So that's what we are going to cover.  We are skipping around throughout the reign, and so while I'll mention dates here and there, I'll try not to get too bogged down with the exact dates unless it really matters. First off: coins.  We are going to start somewhere in the middle, on the 15th day of the 4th month of 683.  It is here that we see a note that Ohoama decreed that copper coins would be used, and not silver.  Remember that a silver mine had been discovered in Tsushima back in 674.  At that time we know that there were silver coins being made, but in 683 it looks like they were changing from silver to copper.  But three days later, they reversed the decision to completely cancel the silver coins, so they presumably had both silver and copper coins. Coins are interesting for several reasons.  For one, coins often help us to date various collections—if they are distinctive enough.  They can be quite helpful in telling us that a particular archaeological assemblage is almost certainly from sometime after the coins had begun to be circulated.  After all, if you unearth a stratum of an archeological dig and you find a penny dated to 1912, you can be reasonably confident that that layer was last exposed on or after 1912, unless time travel was at play. There are some exceptions where animals or tree roots or other forces can disturb the layering, but that's why archeologists carefully pay attention to soil features.  That isn't to say that all coins of the time had clear dates on them.  In fact, the oldest coins we have in the archipelago are something called "Mumon Ginsen"—literally unmarked silver coins.  They are found in various assemblages and thought to have originated under Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  The silver from Tsushima would have likely been used for this.  For many reasons it is unclear if these were minted by the state or if they were privately minted and circulated. The copper coin mentioned in Ohoama's record in the Nihon Shoki would appear to be what is known as a Fuhonsen coin, which we also have extant examples of.  These are round copper coins with a square hole in the middle, as was common on the continent.  The previous unmarked silver coins were just small circles of solid silver.  In contrast, the Fuhonsen bear the characters "FU-HON":  FU, or "Tomi", means wealth, and HON, or "moto", means something like base or basis.  "SEN" just refers to the fact that it is a coin.  So the coin represents the basis of wealth. They are just under an inch in diameter, and 1.5 millimeters thick.  While primarily copper, they do have traces of antimony, silver, and bismuth.  The use of copper was likely because of its lower melting point, which would have been easier to cast with. So it seems that these were the new copper coins mentioned in the Chronicles, and the intent was originally to completely replace any silver currency.  I suspect that they quickly realized that they could not easily replace all of the silver, and so the older silver coins were probably still in circulation—though I don't know if any new ones were being minted. We don't exactly know how the coins were used.  They weren't being used to pay taxes or similar things—that was still all being handled in rice, silk, cloth, and labor.  They might have been used by the government to pay individuals, who would then exchange them for goods, but they were probably not used very often between individuals.  There is even some suggestion that they had a more ritual meaning.  Coins of a similar shape—round with a square hole in the center—go back to at least 350 BCE on the continent, and were quite common by the  time of the Han dynasty.  The round hole allowed them to be placed on strings—you'll often see references to strings of cash.  In the Qin dynasty, a string was meant to be a superunit, made up of 1000 coins.  Merchants and others operating at some scale could then just pay in "strings" of cash rather than counting out each and every coin.  It also provided a way of transporting them.  Anyone doing business in east Asia would have encountered coinage from one of the dynasties on the mainland, and we certainly see various coins making their way over to the archipelago, though how exactly they were used and valued isn't certain.  It may have been more important to just have them on hand for trips to the continent so that an embassy or trading vessel could participate in the economy, there. The next coin to be minted in the archipelago itself wasn't until 708, and that was the Wadokaichin, or Wado coins, named for the four characters around the square hole, which included the era name that they were created, "Wado".  This seems to have kicked off an actual national currency that would only last for a couple hundred years before it was debased and lost its value.  For centuries after that, rice was once again the primary currency, and would continue to be so, even though the Tokugawa shogunate would begin to mint and issue coins again through much of their rule.  Still, coins were often outside the grasp of most of the common people. While coins may not have fully caught on, they did better than our next project.  This was a task that was given to Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwashiki who compiled, by royal command, a new set of characters, which were recorded in a book of 44 volumes.  Though this book  is no longer extant, we do have later sources that claim it was once in the royal library.  It describes the characters as similar to Sanskrit characters.  This appears to be an attempt to create an alphabet, or syllabary, for the Japanese language. While Yamato had adopted the Sinitic systems of logographic writing, it wasn't exactly up to the task of directly writing in Japanese.  For one thing, the languages had different sounds that they used, and in different combinations.  Furthermore, grammatically, the two were quite different.  Many Sinitic languages are Subject, Verb, Object, similar to English, while Japanese is Subject, Object, Verb, meaning the verb goes at the end.  But beyond that, Japanese relies extensively on conjugation of verbs, with verbs and adjectives changing to express tense and other such things that Sinitic languages, such as modern Putonghua and languages such as Middle Chinese handle in other ways.  To give an English speaking person a similar experience, imagine writing sentences as "The bird in the tree sat"  or "the man the bread at the store bought".  Now remove many of the articles and prepositions, so you get things like "bird tree sit" and "man bread store buy".  You can imagine how that can really get unwieldy if you want to convey more nuanced concepts. Japanese would either need to add a phonetic writing system—which it did—or it would need to come up with new characters to use in place of the special qualities of the language.  Or they would need to continue to write in Sinitic grammatical order and  continue to do the translation to Japanese on the fly.   One can imagine that this was hardly efficient—in order to learn how to write you would basically have to learn a whole new language. That these new symbols were similar to characters associated with Sanskrit also makes sense, and we even see similar attempts on the continent, though they had other writing systems to compare to as well.  For example, we see the Persian Sogdian, written with a variation of Syriac script, and the Ghandari language written with its own Ghandari or Kharosthi script, but the influence of Buddhism likely explains why scripts associated with Sanskrit likely had a greater influence than other languages.  I should note here that Sanskrit itself does not have a single script—today, people probably think of the Devanagari script, commonly used in India, but that doesn't seem to have been developed until the 8th century.  The work of Iwashiki was likely based on something like the Siddham, or Kutila, script.  This is an abudgida, where consonants and vowels are connected together when written.  This would have worked well for the Japanese language as phonemes are often grouped together as consonant-vowel clusters known as morae.  Siddham evolved in the late 6th century and many Buddhist scripts that were making their way along the Silk Road would have used it.  However, it is said that Siddham proper—or at least as we know it today—was introduced to Japan by the famous monk Kuukai in the early 9th century.  If that is the case, then what script was Iwashiki using as his inspiration? Regardless of the details, this new script doesn't seem to have taken off.  It may have just been too much to ask someone to learn the various kanji AND another system on top of that.  Instead, the Japanese would adopt certain kanji over time, and simplify them into what we know, today, as kana.  Our earliest example is what we know of as Man'yogana, named for the Man'yoshu, an 8th century collection of poems attributed to various contemporary and historical figures.  Because the poetic structure of Japanese required specific counts of syllables or, more specifically, morae, it was important to capture the actual pronunciation of the language.  Certain characters were chosen and used over and over again purely for their phonetic value, rather than any other inherent meaning.  Over time, those characters were simplified and standardized, developing into the katakana and hiragana still used today.  While it was these organically-evolving systems that would eventually be most popular and fill the gap, but it is still incredible to see someone deliberately tackling the problem at this early date. Moving on from money and writing, let's turn now to matters of the kami and the Buddha.   Yamato existed in a world that saw itself as being caught between forces both seen and unseen.  Besides the natural world there was the spiritual world, and to many it was just as real as anything else. We've talked all along about the interplay between the court, the kami and the Buddha, and some of the evidence we see is relatively simple.  For instance, in 675, the Ohokami, the great god, of Tosa presented a divine sword to the sovereign.  I doubt that a kami was showing up in person to the court—this would have been priests from the shrine.   Aston suggests that the kami in question was probably either Hitokotonushi no Mikoto or Misukitakahikone no Mikoto, quoting "authorities" which he does not otherwise name.  We get more serious, though, when it comes to major events.  And the drought and famine of 676 seems to fit that description.  As you may recall from episode 144, the governor of Shimotsukeno reported a bad harvest in the 5th month, and by the 6th month we see more reports coming in of a great drought.  Clothing was collected for the Buddhist temples to help build merit.  Later, there was a comet in the sky, and then, in the 8th month, we see that the court compelled the Kuni no Miyatsuko and the governors to all contribute to an Ohoharae, or Great Purification.  Eventually, the Ohoharae would become a regular ceremony held on the 30th day of the 6th and 12th months of the year, with royal princes down to the high ministers gathering at the southern gate—the Suzaku-mon. Members of the Urabe, the Diviners, would read the various norito, the ritual prayers, to disperse evil influences.  It was, and is,also used when there is a royal visit to the Ise or Kamo shrines, as well as at the Dajosai festival at the start of a new reign.  It can also be done if there is thought to have been some kind of offense that was committed. "Harae", or "purification", is a common part of Shinto ritual today.  From the simple washing of the hands and mouth before entering the shrine grounds to pray to spiritual purification performed by a priest who waves a large stick with paper streamers—the ohonusa or haraegushi—while chanting prayers to ward off evil influences, purification is a key component in Shinto, which often concerns itself with aspects of spiritual pollution.  And so the Oho-harae, the Great Purification, is that, but turned up to eleven. The litany used for the Ohoharae, today, is also known as the Nakatomi no Ohoharae, indicating the importance of the Nakatomi in the ritual.  This Ohoharae, however, was taking place in the 8th month, and may not have had all of the traditions of the later rituals we know today.  Rather, we are told what was required:  The Kuni no Miyatsuko of the provinces were instructed to send one horse and a piece of cloth to specific shrines of purification.  In addition, the governors of the various districts were each told to supply one sword, one deerskin, one mattock, one smaller sword, one sickle, one set of arrows, and one sheaf of rice.  In addition, each household had to supply a bundle of hemp cloth.  These may not have been used in the ritual as much as they were offerings to the kami and their shrine. We'll see this in various cases where the State places rather onerous financial requirements on the population in order to perform rituals.  Of course, by the logic of the time, whatever was donated would make the ritual more effective—it would be more pleasing to the kami.  Still this seems remarkably costly in a year where we are told that the peasants were starving just a few months prior. I'll also take this moment to point out a link here to something that anyone who has been to a shrine may be familiar with, and that is the donation of horses. Horses were common enough a donation—if people of status rode horses, then how much more so the kami themselves?  Sacred or votive horses could be used to carry the kami, and even today some shrines keep sacred horses for the kami.  However, not everyone has horses to donate, and I suspect that the shrine probably didn't need an entire herd of horses.  And so some would pay money for an image of a horse, instead, to be hung in the shrine, likely indicating the donor.  Of course, this wasn't just a picture, but an official record of some kind of donation, which could theoretically go to purchase horses and other such things that the shrine might need.  These pictures of horses were known as "e-ma", literally "picture horse", and we still see them today: The most common type of e-ma will be small wooden placards sold at the shrine, and people will write their desires on the back, with their name and information.  They will often be found hanging in groups on specially designated racks meant for that purpose.  Today, e-ma might have horses on them, but more often have other pictures, associated with the particular shrine and kami.  Speaking of horses, we have a couple more references to them this year.  At some point, Ohoama had issued an edict seeking horses, not just for riding, but other good horses so that the givernment would have them when needed, distributed to the various post-stations.  So when he was returning from a banquet by the Todoroki pool in Hatsuse—modern Hase--Ohoama made a diversion to the post-station of Tomi and had the horses demonstrate their speed.  Presumably this was just a horse race, which seems to be popular around the world, in any place with horses. We see something similar when we are told that Ohoama went to Asatsuma to inspect the horses of the officials there.  At his request, the officials organized a competition of horseback archery.  This appears to reference the famous art of Yabusame—though it may not have been recognized as such just yet, there is some thought that the idea of a horsed archer shooting at three targets while galloping past may have originated in the 6th century, with ties to Usa Jingu.  Still, horseback archery would remain important, and later it would become the primary art of the warrior class from about the 12th to the 13th century or so—and arguably even up until the Sengoku period, with its spear formations and foreign guns. Later, in the 10th lunar month of 681, Ohoama and the court were prepared to go hunting on the Hirose plain.  A temporary palace was prepared and all of the bags were packed, but ultimately, Ohoama didn't go.  Instead, those from the rank of Prince to high ministers stayed at Karunoichi—a market at a cross-roads in the Nara basin that likely was the location of a government stable.  There, they inspected the horses and saddle equipment.  Those from the rank of Shokin up sat under the trees while those of Daisen and below mounted up and passed along from south to north.  Not quite as exciting as horse racing or horsed archery, but who doesn't like a parade. One wonders what happened to call off the hunt.  Perhaps Ohoama, while not bedridden, was not in the best of health.  If he was having some kind of recurring problems then that could explain some of the merit-making as well.  You may recall we discussed how much merit the state seemed to be trying to make in support of the sovereign's health, which we discussed in episode 142. Getting back to the Ohoharae—the great purification.  That was followed up by a general amnesty, which we talked about last episode, as well as a command to let loose living things.  This is a Buddhist practice that one still sees today in various places, usually in the form of letting loose animals like fish and birds that were kept by individuals.  I don't think they were just opening up the paddocks and letting the horses, cattle, and other animals go.  As fascinating as that might be to contemplate, with horses just running wild and cattle trampling the rice fields, I doubt they took it that far.  Still, this practice was clearly an attempt to make more merit for the State.   This edict was repeated only a few months later, in the 11th lunar month, but then it was confined to those provinces that were considered to be "near" to the capital, so a little more focused.  The day after that second release of animals, men were dispatched to all parts to expound the Konkwoumyou and Ninou sutras.  This was the Sutra of Golden Light and the Sutra of the Benevolent King—both sutras focused on concepts of good rulership and protection of the State.  In fact, together with the Lotus Sutra, they would come to be considered the Gokoku Sanbukyou—the Three sutras for Protection of the State.  They were read for the purpose of averting disaster, but they also helped to prop up the image of a righteous and benevolent ruler—what might be termed a golden-wheel turning sovereign, or Chakravarti. So all of this would seem to simultaneously reflect an intention to protect the State while also demonstrating performative regnal righteousness.  It was, after all, what a good ruler was supposed to do, which also conveniently told people what a good ruler was supposed to do. It is unclear whether or not the court actually felt this did anything.  I would note that a month later they were asking Princes and Ministers to gather up weapons, so it is possible that they were concerned about more than just natural disasters— such as a concern that the people were getting restless.  A few days later, we see more largess, as the court made presents to public functionaries and men of the frontier states.  It is unclear to me if this is a reward of some sort or perhaps an attempt to boost their morale and support. Later in that month we see preparations for the upcoming Feast of First Fruits, or Niinamesai, two months later.  We are told that the Jingikan, the Office of Kami Matters, had made the divination that the Yuki, the ceremonially pure rice for the ritual would come from the District of Yamada, in Owari.  For the Sugi, the "next" lower quality of rice, that would come from the district of Kasa, in Tamba.  The feast went off as usual in the 11th month, pre-empting the normal announcement of the first of the month. Later in the record we see that preparations were started for another Ohoharae, or Great Purification, and a general amnesty was issued.  This time, instead of sending horses for the kami, the Miyatsuko of each province were to supply one male and one female servant to the shrines, instead.  Fifteen days later, in the intercalary 7th lunar month—an extra month inserted to keep the lunar and solar calendars in synch—we see the queen, Uno, hosting a feast after ritual fasting.  She then had sutras expounded throughout the capital.  I find it particularly interesting that this was apparently instigated by the queen, but along with the Ohoharae, this all speaks towards the feeling that the State needed to be purified and supplied with good merit. The Ohoharae was not the only way to curry favor with the kami.  For example, in one record we see Ohoama designating sacred rice-tax for the shrines of Heaven and Earth—shrines for the Amatsu kami and Kunitsu kami.  One third of the rice was to go to the kami directly, while two thirds of the rice was to go to the priests who kept the shrines going. This same year, 677, we aren't told where the rice for the Niiname-sai came from, but we are told that those who donated as well as members of the Jingikan, who were involved in the divination and ritual more generally, were all compensated for their troubles with various presents. The Jingikan is one of those aspects of the new, bureaucratic state, that feels extremely tied to the archipelago.  It literally is the Bureau of Kami Matters, or the Bureau of Kami Affairs—the Kami no Tsukasa.  It would even come to be ranked above the Council of State in the official org chart of the government.  While the government had national temples and appointed members of the clergy who were responsible for keeping the Buddhist institutions in line with the State, the Jingikan was that entity for court ritual, and even for interfacing with various shrines around the country.   In the 10th century, all of the official shrines across the archipelago would be catalogued and assessed a rank and position, with Ise Shrine and the royal court at the top of the list. Speaking of the national temples, the fourth month of 680 was when Ohoama designated the national temples—which we also covered in Episode 142.  On the first day of month after that, we are told that he bestowed gifts of silk and cloth to 24 temples around the capital; and if there really were 24 temples just around the capital itself, one can imagine why they had to put a stop to publicly funding all of them.  That must have been quite the upkeep.  That same day, the Golden Light Sutra was expounded in the palace and at select temples as well.  As we've seen, the court relied just as heavily—or more—on Buddhism for certain rituals and providing spiritual power. While both Kami-based rituals and Buddhism were revered for their ability to affect the supernatural, Buddhist priests seem to have had a particularly revered place in—or perhaps more rightly outside—of society.  One is more likely to hear about someone who was a Buddhist priest or a novice being revered than a kannushi, or shrine priest.  For example, in the 7th month of 680, the priest Kouchou, of Asukadera, passed away. The royal princes Ohotsu and Takechi were sent to express royal condolence.  Later that same year we would see something similar, with Royal—later Crown—Prince Kusakabe visiting the eminent priest (Y)emyou on his death bed.  Yemyou died the next day, and three royal princes were sent to offer the condolences on behalf of the royal family. Towards the end of 680, Ohoama fell ill. One hundred individuals were made to take holy orders on his behalf, after which he appears to have recovered—or at least recovered enough for the time.  Earlier in the month his queen, Uno no Sarara, had taken ill, for which Ohoama had pledged to build Yakushiji, a temple of the Medicine Buddha, as we talked about in Episode 142. Although Ohoama temporarily recovered, we have mentioned how there are plenty of suggestions that he may not have been entirely better.  It could just be that time and numerous diseases were taking a toll, or perhaps he had an ailment that came and went.  I get that impression from things like in the 10th month of 685, as autumn changed to winter,  several nobles were sent to Shinano to build a temporary palace in preparation for a royal progress.  It seems that Ohoama wanted to visit the hot springs at Tsukama.  Tsukama may have been located on the outskirts of modern Matsumoto city, in Nagano, which is known for its hot springs, today.  Bentley implies  that the court was not entirely thrilled with Ohoama taking this journey.  I have to wonder whether or not this was all about Ohoama's health—hot springs were often seen as restorative.  At the same time, this sounds like a fairly long journey into the mountains as the weather was growing colder.  That also may have been part of the draw, however, allowing them to travel and see the changing leaves, a very common pastime in successive centuries, and even today. I can't help but imagine that Ohoama was seeking the restorative properties, while his court may have been apprehensive about the journey there and back as the days were getting colder.  Compare this to his actions at the start of the Jinshin no Ran, when he made that incredible dash from Yoshino, through the mountains, over to Owari.  But that was well over a decade ago, at this point, and he seems not quite so spry as he once had been. Another popular record that we find in this reign were various oddities and omens.  We've covered quite a few, but I did want to cover a few more before we pull the curtain closed on this era. First off, early in the reign, we see a record in the 10th month of 675 for a woman in the district of Takakura, in the province of Sagami, giving birth to triplets.  A quick Internet search suggests that natural triplets occur in about 1 in every 8000 or 10,000 births.  However, there is another thing to consider at this time:  giving birth to a single child was already a risky business, and death during or just after childbirth was a constant threat.  So now consider the issues with giving birth to twins or even triplets.  The odds that there is a complication just go up at that point.  So I suspect this was a very rare occurrence.  The fact that it was three sons was probably also seen as particularly auspicious, at least for any who were studying traditional Confucian scholarship. Moving on to the 4th day of the 4th lunar month of that same year, we get an omen for the court.  First is a cock sent to the court by Wanitsumi no Yogoto, from the Lower Sofu district in Yamato province.  This cock is said to have had a comb like a camelia flower, which was apparently quite auspicious.  On the other hand, a report came in from Akunami, also in Yamato province, about a hen that had turned into a cock.  Aston, of course, considers that this would have been an ominous sign—a disruption of the natural order.  To be honest, I don't see any particular judgment placed on it one way or the other.  It is just listed as a wondrous or miraculous occurrence. The year 678 has remarkably few events, in total, with nothing recorded between the 4th and 9th months.  And the 9th month was just a note about the death of one, Prince Wakasa, of the third princely rank.  The month after that we have another one of those strange occurrences.  This time it is a report of something falling from the sky like silk floss, except that it was 5 or 6 feet long and 7 or 8 inches wide.  It supposedly floated on the wind and waved from the fir woods and the reed plains.  People who saw it called it kanro, or "sweet nectar". This is really just a crazy entry.  I've wracked my brains to think of a natural event that could cause something like this, but this seems like something that was more like a rumor that got written down.  "Kanro" is thought to be something that Buddhist texts refer to as "Amrita", an exlixir of immortality.  In continental lore, it is said to be a sweet nectar that forms when yin and yang are in harmony—such as during a benevolent reign.  So whatever the truth of any natural event, to the Chroniclers the entry is clearly a chance to hype up Ohoama's reign. And then, towards the end of the 8th month, we see Katsura no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu presenting auspicious stalks of grain.  Reportedly they all came from different plots and yet had very similar ears of grain.  Auspicious stalks of rice weren't uncommon, but Aston suggests that this was possibly an allegory for all of the royal princes who were brought together in Yoshino to swear to support each other.  The 8th month may have been when the grain was harvested—because it wasn't until the final month of the year that we see the court reacting.  At that point presents were made to the Royal and non-Royal Princes, the Ministers, and the public functionaries, all according to rank, in consequence of the auspicious stalks of grain.  In addition there was an amnesty for all offences from capital crimes on down. Now on top of all of that, there were a few edicts that touched on various topics that we just haven't gotten to, elsewhere. For instance, in the 8th month of 681, on the 10th day, we see a notification to all of the people in the archipelago who claimed descent from those from the continent—specifically those from the Korean peninsula, or the Samhan.  They were told that the taxes, which had previously been remitted for 10 years, so starting in 671, had come to an end.  However, corvee labor was still remitted for ten years to them and their children and grandchildren who had been with them when they first arrived. There are some questions about this passage, but in general it seems that those refugees who had escaped to the archipelago from Baekje and Goguryeo had previously been given 10 years from the time they arrived during which they did not owe taxes.  This included corvee labor—which also extended to any children that had been with them at the time.  Children that were born after that… well they wouldn't be of age to be used as corvee labor in 10 years so this would only apply to those who were with them at the  time and who would be of age within that 10 year timeframe. This exemption from taxes appears several times in different forms, and appears to be a grace period, during which people were expected to establish themselves, open fields, and begin to thrive.  At the end of 10 years, then they would start paying taxes, with the assumption that they had more than enough time to prepare and work the land. Moving on to one of my favorite entries, on the 18th day of the 9th lunar month in 685, Ohoama declared a game day.  He had the Princes and Ministers gather at the Ohoandono, the Great Audience Hall, and had them play a game called "Pakugi" or "Bakugi".  We aren't quite sure what the rules were—it probably wasn't Settlers of Catan, but you never know.  It was likely a game with dice, possibly a version of backgammon, which is quite old and commonly known as a game for gambling.  That same day, Ohoama gave out gifts of robes and trousers to ten princes and others—perhaps related to the gaming session? The history of games and gaming is particularly fascinating.  For one thing, many of the games that were played in the archipelago had come from the continent, and many had variants that had traversed the entirety of Eurasia.  Backgammon and Chess were both games that had variants that would be known in Japan.  Backgammon was known as sugoroku, and in Japan they played a game similar to chess known as Shogi.  They would also play go—or more appropriately igo—from at least the Nara period, though that game, invented in what is now China, does not seem to have spread quite as much as either backgammon or chess variants.  And while chess was a game that was often highly localized—with different pieces representing different things and often moving in different ways depending on the variant—backgammon seems to have been quite similar everywhere, and could probably be played by two people with wildly different cultural backgrounds with very little interpretation needed. The day after Ohoama had the court join his game day, there were more presents.  This time it was brown bear hides given to the royal and non-royal princes.  In total there were 48 hides given out, which is really pretty incredible.  I have this image in my mind of a very Asuka era wooden mansion, with wood and bronze and silk, and then a large bear hide sprawled out on the floor.  I'm not sure exactly how they were used, but I suspect that they were mostly used as floor coverings for people to sit or lay on, though I could also see them being used as sleeping mats.  It seems they were clearly elite status goods, but hardly what we think about in this period. And that is where we are going to come to a close.  There are only a few more things that we'll get to, but they are all related to what happened with the events surrounding Ohoama's death and the succession that followed, so we'll touch on those when we kick off the next reign. 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.  

En este episodio de Nakatomi Radio nos metemos de lleno en Risky Business, ese extraño punto de encuentro entre la fantasía adolescente y el vértigo adulto. Porque sí, todos recordamos a Tom Cruise deslizándose en calcetines por el salón… pero lo que hay debajo de esa escena es otra cosa. Mucho más incómoda. Mucho más interesante. Hablamos de dinero, de deseo, de identidad. De lo que significa jugar a ser adulto… y descubrir que igual el juego iba en serio.

Esta semana en Nakatomi Radio subimos hasta lo más alto de Notre Dame. Allí vive Quasimodo. El campanero. El monstruo… según quién lo mire. Pero también uno de los personajes más humanos que ha creado Disney. Hablamos de una de las películas más oscuras, valientes y emocionalmente complejas del estudio: El jorobado de Notre Dame (1996). Una historia sobre la diferencia, la fe, el deseo, la culpa y el miedo a aquello que no entendemos. ¿Por qué Disney se atrevió a contar algo tan incómodo? ¿Es Frollo uno de los villanos más perturbadores de toda su filmografía? ¿Y cómo es posible que una película con canciones tan luminosas esconda un relato tan trágico? Entre campanas, catedrales y canciones que todavía ponen la piel de gallina, Víctor y Alfredo revisitan una obra que, vista hoy, parece aún más adulta de lo que recordábamos. Porque a veces el verdadero monstruo no vive en la torre. Vive en quienes creen tener la razón. Dale al play. Las campanas ya están sonando.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! En este No Limits hablamos de Sentimental Value, una de esas historias que no buscan el ruido, sino algo más difícil: quedarse contigo cuando termina. Relaciones rotas, memoria, heridas que siguen ahí aunque pasen los años… y ese extraño peso que tienen los objetos cuando están llenos de recuerdos. Una conversación sobre lo que heredamos, lo que perdemos y lo que todavía intentamos salvar.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

This episode we'll be looking at a bunch of different references referring to the various provinces, particularly those on the far edges of the archipelago. For more, check out:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-144   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 144: On the Edge The ships sat low in the water, bobbing gently against the docks at Naniwa.  The captain eyed them warily as the officials went over the manifest.  The Seto Inland Sea was generally calm and smooth sailing—at least compared to the open ocean, anywhere else -- and yet, as he looked, he could only think of how sluggish these ships would be.  They were laden down with cargo—silk, cloth, thread, and of course provisions for the men accompanying them.  But more than that, they were laden down with iron.  Tons of iron ingots, destined for the far reaches of the archipelago.  First to Suwa, but then on to the Dazai on Tsukushi, no doubt to be forged into weapons for the defense of Yamato. But that wasn't the captain's concern.  He just needed to make sure that the ships weren't weighed down too much:  as long as they remained buoyant, they would make the journey, even if they had to travel at a snail's pace to do it.  But if the ships sat too low in the water, then all it would take was some uncooperative waves and the ships, crew, and cargo, would be sent straight down to the palace of the dragon king, beneath the waves. Fortunately, with enough ships, it looked like that wouldn't be too much of a problem, as long as the goods were properly spaced out.  Now to just hope that the weather cooperated.  Even in the relatively safe waters of the Seto Inland Sea, you never know what could happen…     So last episode we talked about two large projects that Ohoama is said to have started.  First was the history project, which likely led to the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki.  Second was the start of a brand new capital.  This episode, we are going from the macro, down to the micro—smaller events that just weren't covered in previous episodes.  For the most part the next few episodes are going to be a grab bag of various items, but I'm going to try and put some semblance of cohesion to this.  Next episode we'll be looking at some of the laws that they made, including the law code and examples of the kinds of punishment—and forgiveness—that the court could bestow.  This week, however, we are going to cover a bunch of stories focused on the areas outside of the Home Provinces.  We'll look at the Dazai in Tsukushi—and elsewhere.  We'll talk about how the provinces were governed, and what concerned them.  Granted, a lot of what concerned them, at least from the Chroniclers point of view, were taxes and economic production.  So we see recorded concern with taxes and with what was there—the land and the people that worked it.  Also with natural events, like droughts and tsunami, which would affect that same economic production.   We're starting off with the Dazai, and the person in charge there.  The Viceroy, as it is often called in English. The Dazai appears to have started off with something of a military purpose.  It was a gathering place before ships would sail off to the Korean peninsula, raiding up the rivers, or trading with their allies.  As the archipelago began to be more embroiled in the wars of the peninsula, it was that much more important.  And when Yamato's ally, Baekje, fell, and it looked like Silla and the Great Tang might turn their attention to the islands that had been a thorn in their side for so long, it became a bulwark against potential invasion. However, it also had another function.  It was the jumping off place for warships, but also for embassies and trading missions.  It was also the primary destination for most ships approaching Yamato.  They would take a route through Tsushima island, and then Iki island, and continue to the main coast of Tsukushi—Kyushu, and up and around to the sheltered waters of Hakata bay.  At some point they would even move that initial contact farther out, to Tsushima island itself.  Ships would dock on one side of the island, and transport their goods to a Yamato ship on the other side, with a pilot who knew the waters.  The local island officials could then send word ahead to the Dazai that they were coming.  No surprises, and nobody jumping the gun thinking that a fleet of warships was on their way. The Dazai played a key role in defense, trade, and diplomacy.  When the embassies arrived, they were entertained at the Dazai while word was sent to the court.  If the court deemed it appropriate, then they might have the ambassadors take the journey the rest of the way.  Otherwise, the court at the Dazai would stand in for the sovereign, and receive the messages, and various diplomatic gifts that were sent along. This was a powerful and also highly lucrative position, and it is reflected in the people who were granted the title.  This was the Dazai no Sochi, or Oho-mikoto-mochi no kami. We see the post held by Soga no Himuka in  649, during the Taika era.  Then we see Abe no Hirafu in the reign of Takara Hime, 655-661.  Hirafu would go on to become the Minister of the Left.  Then we see Prince Kurikuma. We talked about Prince Kurikuma before—he was Ohoama's ally in Tsukushi who refused the Afumi court's request for troops during the Jinshin no Ran.  He is one of the few figures that we have more than just a bit of information on.  For one thing, we have two different appointments to his position as viceroy in Tsukushi—there is one in 668, and another in 671, with Soga no Akae being given the post in between.  There are some questions about whether or not those were different people—the first one might have been someone named "Kurisaki" or "Kurimae", but it is generally assumed that was just misspelled, and it may be that there were just some questions as to when he was appointed.  We also know that he was a friend to Ohoama.  The Afumi court said as much, and in the Jinshin no Ran, when he and his sons stood up  to the Afumi court's request for troops, he came down heavily on Ohoama's side.  It is no wonder that he would have still been in such a powerful position.  His sons, by the way, are named as Prince Mino and Prince Takebe; we've seen what appears to be different Princes named Mino, but it is possible that this is the Prince Mino mentioned elsewhere in this part of the record. Sources suggest that Kurikuma was a descendant of the sovereign Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou, and that he was an ancestor of the Tachibana clan.  There were stories about him in Tsukushi, beyond those in the Nihon Shoki, and while he isn't always named explicitly, one can infer that he hosted a number of embassies and ambassadors in his time.  In fact, in his position as head of the Dazaifu in Tsukushi, he was in what was perhaps the most lucrative post outside of Yamato.  In addition to being in charge of trade, diplomacy, and military readiness, the Dazaifu oversaw all of Tsukushi—the island of Kyushu, and was like a miniature representation of the central government. I suspect it is the military responsibilities that saw Kurikuma being appointed to the post of Director of Military Affairs—Tsuwamo-no-Tsukasa-no-Kami, or Heiseikan-cho. That was in the 3rd lunar month of 675, just a few years into Ohoama's reign. This would later be known as the Hyoubu-shou, or Ministry of War.  The appointment would not last long, however.  A year later, Kurikuma would pass away from disease.  Prince Kurikuma is one of those enigmatic and yet somewhat exciting individuals that exists beyond just the Nihon Shoki.   The Shoku Nihongi and later sources give us additional details, which may or may not be accurate.  Even moreso, there are stories in modern Nagasaki prefecture about Prince Kurikuma helping to regulate the animals that lived in the waters surrounding Kyushu.  According to the Shoku Nihongi record, he was reportedly granted the 2nd princely rank upon his death—which, if true, would seem to say a lot about how he was viewed at the time. Moving into the year 676, we see an edict that restricted governorships to individuals of the rank of Daisen and below.  The exceptions to this were the Home Provinces, Michinoku, and Nagato, and let's explore why these areas were excepted. Home Provinces make sense, as that is where the capital is and this more prestigious area was therefore deserving of a higher ranked noble.  Michinoku was the opposite geographically: it was the general wilderness of Tohoku, and the land of the Emishi.  It was also the farthest east of the capital, so I suspect they wanted someone of rank to handle that.  The governor of Nagato, however, is interesting.  Nagato is part of Honshu, the main island, just north of Kyushu, across the Shimonoseki strait.  Similar to Michinoku, Nagato was one of the most remote provinces on Honshu.  It was also an important province for potential defense and trade, and often coordinated with the Dazaifu in Tsukushi, to the south.  As such, it was also considered a more prominent posting than other governorships. It is somewhat interesting that the Dazaifu is not mentioned, but I suspect this is because the head of the Dazaifu was not, in fact, a governor, but more akin to a viceroy.  After all, they had to be entrusted with a certain amount of authority to be able to conduct military, trade, and diplomatic business without constantly sending back to the Yamato court for instruction.  We've already seen that there were Princes and other men of wealth and status who had been given that posting. Interestingly, in this reign we see at least one other viceroy—one other Dazai, or Ohomikotomochi—and that is in Kibi, of all places.  From what we can tell Kibi was one of the main rivals for power and authority in the prior centuries.  It has come up again and again in the stories.  Unfortunately, most of the stories only hint at what we think actually happened.  Today, when we talk about *the* Dazaifu we are almost exclusively talking about the one in Kyushu.  Besides being far flung from the center of power, it had huge responsibilities. Comparatively, though perhaps not as directly involved with trade, the rulers of Kibi were important figures, as demonstrated by the amount of manpower they were able to leverage for building their large, kingly tombs.  We talked somewhat about that back in Episode 48, looking at Tsukuriyama Kofun, one of the largest in the archipelago.  Furthermore, Kibi was well-placed on the Seto inland sea to be able to control the passage of ships.  The Kibi Dazai appears to have been established around the time of the Taika reforms, though it is only mentioned once in the Nihon Shoki, and I don't see any other examples of it.  There is also evidence that it was given authority over not just Kibi, but also the neighboring province of Harima.  Eventually, however, Kibi would be broken up into the three provinces of Bizen, Bitchu, and Bingo, and it would no longer need to be aggregated under a single administration.  Rather, each province would get its own governor, overseeing a much smaller part of the whole.  From this I can only assume that there may have been other, similar situations, prior to the various provinces being broken up like that. A couple months later, in the 5th month of 676, we are once again discussing governors.  First was a decree about governors who weren't paying their commuted taxes on time.  Aston goes on to note that non-rice taxes were due in the middle of the 8th month—at least for the home provinces.  Near provinces—a little farther away—taxes had to be received by the end of the 10th month, and for those a bit farther away—in the middle distance—they had to be there by the 11th month.  Finally,  the taxes from the farthest provinces were due by the end of the 12th month.  This would have given officials time to collect the taxes and to transport them all the way to the capital.  So when the chronicles talk about governors not paying on time, not keeping to this schedule may have been what the court was getting at—or at least some kind of similar schedule with deadlines, since it might have been modified over time.    Another record, that same month—actually a few days later—concerns specifically the governor of Shimotsukenu—or Shimotsuke, on the other side of Honshu.  He sent in a report that that province had been hit pretty hard that year with a poor harvest.  In fact, it was so bad that many peasants were seeking permission to sell their children.  The court ultimately denied the request, but this does speak to a rather disturbing—yet not exactly uncommon—cultural practice.  I don't think we need to get into the different nuances here, beyond a look at the fact that this was likely not a new practice, but it does seem that the appeal to the government for permission to sell one's children was something new.  Perhaps this came with all of the records and registrations that the government had undertaken to know who was in what household.  Regardless, one can hardly imagine that most parents would willingly take this option unless they had no other choice, and I suspect that it is meant to show both the desperation of the people in Shimotsuke, as well as the harsh benevolence of the sovereign, who would not permit the children to be separated from their families.  Of course, we aren't told how the court otherwise ameliorated the situation, since moral righteousness is tremendous, but doesn't suddenly fix the problems with the harvest or cause food to appear out of nowhere.  One hopes that the court at least sent some amount of rice or other provisions to help the people. Although it was Shimotsuke in the 5th month, in the 6th month we see a more general report of a large drought.  Messengers were sent throughout the land to get people to donate cloth, and make prayers to the kami, while Buddhist Priests called upon the power of the Three Precious Things.  It was all to no avail—the usual rains didn't come, so the wugu, the five grains didn't grow, and peasants starved.  The five grains per se are  rice, soybeans, wheat, and two types of millet, but in this case the term is just a stand-in for all types of agricultural produce. Possibly unrelated, but somewhat telling, two months later we see a record of the court granting sustenance-fiefs of all Royal princes and princesses down to the high ministers and female officials at the palace down to the rank of Shoukin.  So only two months after the peasants of Yamato were apparently starving, the court is handing out stipend increases to the elite.  So… yeah…. We do see a focus in the 8th month on an Oho-barai, or Great Purification.  I'm going to talk about this more in a future episode, though, so just noting here that they seem to have been working to purify the land and that may have been part of ongoing spiritual attempts to request the support of the kami in what appear to be difficult times.  There were also plenty of examples of attempts to make merit by demonstrating righteousness and reading various sutras. Moving on to the events of 677, things seem to have been going better than the previous year, so maybe all that merit-making had an effect?  Either way, we don't see any mention of droughts or famines this year, and we make it to the ninth month, when we see a notice that any vagabonds who returned after being sent back to their hometown would be set to forced labor.  Vagabond, in this case, is "furounin", or "person who floats on the waves".  This appears to be the origin of the term "Rounin", which would later refer to masterless samurai.  At this point it seems to refer mostly to commoners who were expected to work the land—and when workers abandoned the land that had implications for the government's tax base system.  So the State was invested in ensuring that people didn't just move somewhere else—at least without asking permission and being properly registered.  This does seem different from an actual fugitive, such as someone who was banished who tries to leave their place of banishment. The following month, the 10th month of 677,  we see that Kawabe no Omi no Momoye was appointed head of the Minbukyo, the Minister of the Interior.  In addition, Tajihi no Kimi no Maro was made a Daibu, or high official, of the province of Settsu.     The term "daibu" could just refer to high ministers of the court, but the "daibu" of a province appears to be similar to a governor, but with more expansive and comprehensive authority.  Settsu is one of the five home provinces, and as such an important part of the geographical heart of Yamato.   So we have the local chieftains, the governors, the viceroys at the Dazai, and also, apparently, a "high official" in some regions, each with what appear to be overlapping but slightly different portfolios. The next month we see that the Viceroy of Tsukushi—whoever had taken the place of Prince Yagaki—had his officials present a red crow to the court.  The person who caught the crow was granted five steps in rank—not a small reward.  Also, local officials had their own rank raised, and taxes were remitted to the peasants of that district for a year.  Finally, a general amnesty was announced across Yamato. We talked in Episode 141 how something like a red crow would have likely represented either the three-legged crow in the sun or the legendary Suzaku, the fiery bird of the south.  Either way, it was clearly an auspicious discovery.  It is interesting that we don't see any names at all associated with this event.  We do, however, see that people were no doubt incentivized to report such things up to the court.  Whoever found such a curiosity would likely have been celebrated by all of those around given the court's broad show of appreciation.  No doubt the local officials were more than pleased given that they were also likely to receive some of the benefits that accrued if the court was well pleased. As far as the type of events I'm focusing on this episode, there isn't much recorded between the red crow of 677 and a few years later in 682. Picking up in the 3rd month of that year, we get a record of the Emishi of Michinoku being granted court rank, incorporating them further into the growing Yamato polity.  As I talked about a little earlier, Michinoku on the other side of the archipelago, so this event really shows expansion of Yamato and solidification of its power over the rest of Honshu.  It is easy to forget that much of the Tohoku region was not firmly under Yamato control at this time.  They may have claimed it, but the people and culture there were still considered distinct and not a part of Yamato, proper.  But they were making inroads. In the following month, the 4th lunar month of the same year, 682, we are back on the west coast and see Tajihi no Mabito no Shima as the latest Viceroy of Tsukushi, sending as tribute a large bell.  It is somewhat interesting that, compared to the past few viceroys, Shima is actually a member of a noble family and *not* a Prince.  Of course, there was no requirement that the Dazaifu be overseen by a Prince—that certainly wasn't the case for Soga no Akaye, but it is interesting given how Ohoama had been making appointments, so far.  Even if they weren't princely, it is clear that this was an important posting, which says a lot for Tajihi no Shima, even if we didn't know anything more about him.  Fortunately, there are a few clues. For one thing, there are records that claim he was descended from one of the previous sovereigns, but he did not hold the title of "Prince".  That is reflected in his family's kabane of "Mabito", however, or "True person", which seems to indicate at least a nominal descent from a previous ruler.  Shima would continue to rise in the government, and would eventually serve as the Minister of the Right and then Minister of the Left, and at one point he would be the highest ranking noble in the government—though that was still a ways off.  All of this speaks to the importance of the position of viceroy, and probably gives us a clue as to why the Chroniclers were so interested in someone sending a bell, large as it might be, to the government. A day after the bell tribute arrived, Emishi of Koshi, including Ikokina and others, requested 70 households of prisoners of war to create a new district.  While we've talked about the Emishi of Koshi, before, what is particularly interesting is the request for prisoners of war—captives.  Were these Wajin, or Japanese, who had been captured by the Emishi and they were requesting permission to resettle them?  Were they asking for 70 households of people being held captive by the Yamato government?  It isn't clear.  It also isn't clear if "Ikokina" is the name of an individual or of multiple individuals.  Aston originally translated it as Itaka, Kina, and others, while Bentley's more recent translation suggests it is one name.  However, given that this is an Emishi name, being transliterated in Kanji through a Japanese translator, it is hard to know without further sources. From the fourth month to the 7th month of 682, we see a small entry that presents were given to men from Tanegashima, Yakushima, and Amami no Shima.  This simple entry is important mostly just because of its mention of continued contact with these islands south of Kyushu.  This helps us maintain some idea of the extent of Yamato's influence. In the late summer of 683, we once again see a drought.  It began in the 7th lunar month and lasted until the 8th.  A priest named Douzou prayed for rain and eventually obtained it. Douzou is said to have been a monk from Kudara, or Baekje.  Aston suggests that this means he was a priest of Kudaradera, but it isn't really clear to me.  In the early 8th month, we also see that there was a general amnesty ordered throughout Yamato, which I suspect was connected with the disaster of the drought and an attempt to help build merit and otherwise strengthen the state in the face of natural disaster and potential unrest. At the end of 683, we see a survey team being sent out.  The sovereign sent Prince Ise along with Hata no Kimi no Yakuni, Ohoshi no Omi no Homuchi, and Nakatomi no Muraji no Ohoshima with clerks and artisans to tour the realm and determine the border of the various provinces, but they were unable to determine them all in a year. This really must have been quite the task.  Certainly, the provinces were the ancient lands which people had been living in for some time, but there was never really a need for political lines on a map to determine where the boundaries were.  People generally knew if they were in one or the other, and unless there was a very contentious piece of property, mostly you didn't worry about which exact land or province you were in.  Now, however, the court was in the midst of trying to lock down all of the data about the land, including what was where and how much there was.  After all, their entire tax base was built on arable land, so they had to know where it was and what to expect.  There is no way that such a project was going to be completed in a single year. I would also note that Aston has this particular record misplaced.  He seemed to think it was on the 23rd day of the month, but it is then followed by the 17th.  It seems that Aston just got his dates wrong, and can you blame him?  There was a lot that he was dealing with. We do see, almost a year later, in the 10th month of 684, Prince Ise and others are once again sent to determine the boundaries of the provinces.  Second time's the charm, maybe?  Evidently not, because we then see another mention in the 10th month of 685, where the court gave them gifts of robes and trousers as they headed back out to the Eastern Countries one more time. In the 11th month of 684 we are given a small report of a huge disaster.  The governor of Tosa reported that a great tide had risen high, with an overflowing rush, and destroyed many of the ships used to convey tribute. Tosa is on Shikoku, facing out to the Pacific Ocean.  It is the first piece of dry land just past the continental shelf.  As such, a quake just off shore could create conditions not dissimilar to the 2011 disaster in Fukushima, and send a tsunami wave flooding the coastline.  It looks like that is what happened, which would have devastated the fleet.  Since Shikoku was an island, they relied on those ships to get taxes and tribute conveyed up to Yamato.  So this was Tosa letting the court know that the "sea ate my homework." I can't help but wonder if this tsunami wasn't related to an earthquake recorded for the month earlier, which we mentioned back in Episode 139.  It was a huge earthquake that seems to have had a tremdous impact.  Much of it was mentioned as being focused on the Toukaidou region, but that region still lies along a related fault line all the way down through Shikoku.  It may be that it took a while for the two events to be reported, and there may not have been an understanding that the event in one place could have had an impact elsewhere. I don't know if they had yet connected that earthquakes could cause tsunami or not.  On the other hand, it could be that it was a separate, but related quake, or even an aftershock, which caused the tsunami. Overall, the year 684 does not appear to have been the best.  We are told that in the lower district of Katsuraki, there was reported a chicken with four legs.  Then, in the district of Higami, in Tanba province, there was a calf born with twelve horns.  These don't sound like great omens, and given the tsunami, and the earthquake, and other such things, I can perhaps understand why the court focused on trying to do some merit-making towards the end of the year.  For instance they pardoned all criminals except those guilty of capital crimes.  And we are also told that Iga, Ise, Mino, and Wohari were notified that in future years, if they were paying commuted taxes—that is taxes other than rice, in lieu of service—that force labour would be remitted, and vice versa.   That is, if it was a year where they would pay in corvee labour, the commuted taxes would be remitted instead.  In other words, they didn't need to do both in one year.  Similarly , in the 7th lunar month of 685, we are told that the Provinces on the Tousandou, east of Mino, and the Toukaidou, east of Ise, were all exempted from sending in conscript laborers as part of their taxes. We aren't told exactly why any of this was done, but I suspect that it had something to do with either construction going on in those regions, or just needing to have people to work the fields.  Labor could always be remitted just because of something good like a good omen, but in the aftermath of a devastating earthquake, I wonder if there wasn't a lot of rebuilding that had to take place, and maybe the court just wanted to make sure those regions had the people they needed for those projects. The Tousandou and the Toukaidou were just two of the 7 official circuits around the archipelago.  In this case, the Toukaidou hugged the coastal areas, heading from Ise out to modern Tokyo.  Meanwhile, the Tousandou would have cut through the mountains in the middle of that area of Honshu, passing north of Fuji and through modern Gunma.    The other circuits were the San'youdou, the San'indou, the Nankaidou, the Hokurikudou, and Tsukushi, which was considered its own "circuit".  The San'youdou and San'indou were the Yang and Yin roads, going through the western part of Honshu. The San'youdou was along the Seto Inland Sea, while the San'indou was along the Japan sea.  The Nankaidou, or South Sea Road, was the Kii peninsula and Shikoku.  The Hokurikudou went north on eastern Honshu, through the Koshi region. Finally, Tsukushi, which would also be known as the Saikaidou, or Western Sea Road, was its own circuit In the 9th lunar month of 685 we see Commissioners or Royal Messengers appointed to six of the seven circuits, the Hokurikudou being the one left out.    The commissioners were to tour and inspect the provincial and district offices and make sure they were good.  Each person took a facility manager and a secretary to assist them.  Bentley notes that there is, in later legal codes, a role of "Inspector", who was similarly expected to tour and inspect the various provinces – but these were assigned on an as needed basis, so it wasn't a permanent position. Along with the inspection of the government offices, there was one other edict that same day in the 9th month of 685: the court ordered that male and female singers, as well as pipers/flute-players should pass down their skills to their descendants and make them practice singing and the flute.  Thus they effectively created hereditary musicians which, at the time, was how you made sure that you had the different professions and skillsets you needed to run the State. Then, in the 11th month of 685, we see a bunch of iron sent to the General Magistrate of Suwa.  How much is a bunch?  10,000 kin, which is thought to be equivalent to roughly 6.6 tons.  That is a huge amount of iron, assuming the record is true.  At the same time, the viceroy of Tsukushi requested 100 bolts of coarse silk, 132 pounds of thread, 300 bundles of cloth, 4000 feet of labor tax cloth, 6.6 tons of iron, and 2,000 sets of bamboo arrows.   And by all accounts, the court sent it all out.  No idea why—but there we go.  Presumably it was to make things—probably clothing and weapons. We see something similar in the 12th month, when the ships carrying the newest border guards out to Tsukushi were battered by bad seas and, eventually, they were left adrift in the water.  They were rescued, but lost all of their clothing, so rather than sending clothes, the court sent cloth.  450 bolts of cloth were sent, to be made into new sets of clothing for the soldiers.  Sending raw materials makes sense.  After all, there were likely artisans all over the place who just needed them.  Furthermore, that way you could customize the equipment to the people who would be using it, rather than shipping off finished goods. And with that, I think we are going to call it.  Next episode will be a similar overview, but we'll take a look at some of the laws that were passed, as well as how they dealt with law and order in the archipelago. 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.  

El fuego de la venganza no es solo un thriller de secuestros. Es una historia sobre redención, fe, sacrificio… y sobre lo que ocurre cuando el amor prende la mecha equivocada. En este episodio hablamos de: El estilo hipnótico y casi experimental de Tony Scott: montaje fragmentado, cámaras nerviosas y una puesta en escena que parece latir como un corazón a punto de estallar. El Creasy de Denzel Washington: un hombre cansado del mundo que descubre que aún le queda algo por lo que arder. La química inesperada con Dakota Fanning, que convierte la primera mitad de la película en algo más íntimo y luminoso de lo que recordabas. Y por qué esta película, más allá de su violencia, duele más por lo emocional que por lo físico.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Desgranamos Marty Supreme desde dentro: presupuesto, campaña, posicionamiento, relato mediático y construcción de estrella. Qué hay de cine, qué hay de estrategia y cuánto pesa cada decisión cuando quieres jugar en la primera división de Hollywood. Hablamos de números, de riesgo, de poder creativo y de esa delgada línea entre el arte y la maquinaria.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

This episode, we talk about two monumental projects that were started in this reign.  One was the historiographical project that likely led to the creation of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki.  And then there was the start of the first permanent capital city:  the Fujiwara Capital. Listen to the episode and find more on our website:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-143   Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 143: Temmu's Monumental Projects     Ohoama sat astride his horse and looked out at the land in front of him.   He could still see the image of the rice fields, now long fallow, spreading out on the plain.  To the north, east, and west, he could see the mountains that would frame his vision.  As his ministers started to rattle off information about the next steps of the plan, Ohoama began to smile.  He thought of the reports his embassies to the Great Tang had brought back, about the great walled cities of the continent.  In his mind's eye, Ohoama envisioned something similar, rising up on the plain in front of him. There would be an earth and stone wall, surrounding the great city.  The gates would be grand, much like the temples, but on an even greater scale.  Houses would be packed in tight, each within their own walled compounds.  In the center painted red and white, with green accents, would be a palace to rival any other structure in the archipelago.  The people would stream in, and the city would be bustling with traffic. This was a new center, from which the power of Yamato would be projected across the islands and even to the continent.   Greetings everyone, and welcome back.  This episode we are still focused on the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, between the years 672 and 686. Last episode we talked about the Four Great Temples—or the Four National Temples.  Much of this episode was focused on the rise and spread of Buddhism as we see in the building of these national temples, but also on the changes that occurred as the relationship between Buddhism and the State evolved.  This was part of Ohoama's work to build up the State into something beyond what it had been in the past—or perhaps into something comparable to what they believed it to have been in the past.  After all, based on the size of the tomb mounds in the kofun period, it does seem that there was a peak of prosperity in the 5th century, around the time of Wakatakeru, aka Yuryaku Tennou, and then a decline, to the point that the lineage from Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, seemed to have come in during a time when they were rebuilding Yamato power and authority. This episode we are going to talk about two projects that Ohoama kicked off during his reign.  He wouldn't see the completion of either one, since both took multiple decades to complete, but both focused on linking the past and the future.  The first we'll talk about is a new attempt to gather historical documents and records—the last time that was done was in the time of Kashikiya Hime, over 50 years ago.  That was during the height of Soga power.  Since then a lot had changed, and presumably there were even more stories and records that had been written down.  Plus the tide had changed.  So they needed to update—and maybe even correct—the historical record. But beyond that, there was a greater goal: Ohoama and his court also needed to make sure that the past was something that they wanted to go back to, among other things. The other thing we are going to discuss is the start of a project to build a brand new capital city.  And when we talk a bout city, we really mean a city.  This was a massive undertaking, likely unlike anything that we've seen so far.  Sure, there had been monumental building projects, but this was something that was going to take a lot more work - how much more monumental could you get than a new city?  And it would create a physical environment that would be the embodiment of the new centralization of power and authority, and the new state that Ohoama was building, with his administration—and Yamato—at the center.   Let's start with the big ones.  First and foremost, we have the entry from the 17th day of the 3rd month of the 681.  Ohoama gave a decree from the Daigokuden to commit to writing a Chronicle of the sovereigns and various matters of high antiquity.  Bentley translates this as saying that they were to record and confirm the Teiki, which Aston translated as the Chronicle of the Sovereigns, and various accounts of ancient times.  This task was given out to a slew of individuals, including the Royal Princes Kawashima and Osakabe; the Princes Hirose, Takeda, Kuwada, and Mino; as well as Kamitsukenu no Kimi no Michichi, Imbe no Muraji no Kobito, Adzumi no Muraji no Inashiki, Naniwa no Muraji no Ohogata, Nakatomi no Muraji no Ohoshima, and Heguri no Omi no Kobito.  Ohoshima and Kobito were specifically chosen as the scribes for this effort.  We aren't told what work was started at this time.  Aston, in his translation of the Nihon Shoki, assumes that this is the start of the Kojiki.  Bentley notes that this is the first in a variety of records about gathering the various records, including gathering records from the various families, and eventually even records from the various provinces.  And I think we can see why.  Legitimizing a new state and a new way of doing things often means ensuring that you have control of the narrative.  Today, that often means doing what you can to control media and the stories that are in the national consciousness.  In Ohoama's day, I'd argue that narrative was more about the various written sources, and how they were presented.  After all, many of the rituals and evidence that we are looking at would rely on the past to understand the present.  The various family records would not only tell of how those families came to be, but would have important information about what else was going on, and how that was presented could determine whether something was going to be seen as auspicious, or otherwise.  Even without getting rid of those records, it would be important to have the official, State narrative conform to the Truth that the state was attempting to implement. Ultimately, there is no way to know, exactly, how everything happened.  If the Nihon Shoki had a preface, it has been lost.  The Kojiki, for its part, does have a preface, and it points to an origin in the reign of Ohoama—known as the sovereign of Kiyomihara.  In there we are told that the sovereign had a complaint—that the Teiki and Honji, that is the chronicles of the sovereigns and the various other stories and legends, that had been handed down by various houses had come to differ from the truth.  They said they had many falsehoods, which likely meant that they just didn't match the Truth that the State was trying to push.  Thus  they wanted to create a so-called "true" version to pass down. This task was given to 28 year old Hieda no Are.  It says they were intelligent and had an incredible memory.  They studied all of the sources, and the work continued beyond the reign of Ohoama.  Later, in 711 CE, during the reign of Abe, aka Genmei Tennou, Oho no Yasumaro was given the task of writing down everything that Hieda no Are had learned.  The astute amongst you may have noticed that this mentions none of the individuals mentioned in the Nihon Shoki.  Nor does the Nihon Shoki mention anything about Hieda no Are.  So was this a separate effort, or all part of the same thing?  Was Are using the materials collected by  the project? As you may recall, we left the Kojiki behind some time ago, since it formally ends with the reign of Kashikiya hime, aka Suiko Tennou, but realistically it ended with Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou—after that point there are just lists of the various heirs.  As such, there is some speculation that this was originally built off of earlier histories, perhaps arranged during the Soga era. The general explanation for all of this is that Hieda no Are memorized the poems and stories, and then Yasumaro wrote them down.  Furthermore, though the language in the Kojiki does not express a particular gender, in the Edo period there was a theory that Hieda no Are was a woman, which is still a popular theory. Compare all of that to the Nihon Shoki.  Where the Kojiki was often light on details and ends with Suiko Tennou, the Nihon Shoki often includes different sources, specifically mentions some of them by name, and continues up through the year 697.  Furthermore, textual analysis of the Nihon Shoki suggests that it was a team effort, with multiple Chroniclers, and likely multiple teams of Chroniclers.   I have to admit, that sounds a lot more like the kind of thing that Ohoama was kicking off. We have an entry in the Shoku Nihongi, the work that follows the Nihon Shoki, that suggests 720 for the finished compilation of the Nihon Shoki.  So did it take from 681 to 720 to put together?  That is a really long project, with what were probably several generations of individuals working on it. Or should this be read in a broader sense?  Was this a historiographical project, as Bentley calls it, but one that did not, immediately, know the form it would take?  It isn't the first such project—we have histories of the royal lineage and other stories that were compiled previously—much of that attributed to Shotoku Taishi, but likely part of an earlier attempt by the court.  In fact, given that the Kojiki and Sendai Hongi both functionally end around the time of Kashikiya hime, that is probably because the official histories covered those periods.  Obviously, though, a lot had happened, and some of what was written might not fit the current narrative.  And so we see a project to gather and compile various sources.  While this project likely culminated in the projects of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, I doubt that either work was necessarily part of the original vision.  Rather, it looks like the original vision was to collect what they could and then figure things out. It would have been after they started pulling the accounts together, reading them, and noticing the discrepancies that they would have needed to then edit them in such a way that they could tell a cohesive story.  That there are two separate compilations is definitely interesting.  I do suspect that Oho no Yasumaro was working from the efforts of Hieda no Are, either writing down something that had been largely captured in memory or perhaps finishing a project that Are had never completed.  The Nihon Shoki feels like it was a different set of teams, working together, but likely drawing from many of the same sources. And as to why we don't have the earlier sources?  I once heard it said that for books to be forgotten they didn't need to be banned—they just needed to fall out of circulation and no longer be copied anymore.  As new, presumably more detailed, works arose, it makes sense that older sources would not also be copied, as that information was presumably in the updated texts, and any information that wasn't brought over had been deemed counterfactual.  Even the Nihon Shoki risked falling into oblivion; the smaller and more digestible Kojiki was often more sought after.  The Kojiki generally presents a single story, and often uses characters phonetically, demonstrating how to read names and places.  And it just has a more story-like narrative to it.  The Nihon Shoki, comparatively, is dense, written in an old form of kanbun, often relying more on kanbun than on phonetic interpretations.  It was modeled on continental works, but as such it was never going to be as easy to read.  And so for a long time the Kojiki seems to have held pride of place for all but the most ardent scholars of history. Either way, I think that it is still fair to say that the record of 681 was key to the fact that we have this history, today, even if there was no way for Ohoama, at the time, to know just what form it would take. Another ambitious project that got started under Ohoama was the development of a new and permanent capital city. Up to this point we've talked about the various capitals of Yamato, but really it was more that we were talking about the palace compounds where the sovereign lived.  From the Makimuku Palace, where either Mimaki Iribiko or possibly even Himiko herself once held sway, to the latest palace, that of Kiyomihara, the sovereigns of Yamato were known by their palaces.  This is, in part, because for the longest time each successive sovereign would build a new palace after the previous sovereign passed away.  There are various reasons why this may have been the case, often connected to insular concepts of spiritual pollution brought on by the death of an individual, but also the practical consideration that the buildings, from what we can tell, were largely made of untreated wood.  That made them easier to erect, but also made them vulnerable to the elements, over time, and is probably one of the reasons that certain shrines, like the Shrine at Ise, similarly reconstitute themselves every 20 years or so. Furthermore, we talk about palaces, but we don't really talk about cities.  There were certainly large settlements—even going back to the Wei chronicles we see the mention of some 70 thousand households in the area of Yamateg.  It is likely that the Nara basin was filled with cultivated fields and many households.  Princes and noble households had their own compounds—remember that both Soga no Umako and Prince Umayado had compounds large enough that they could build temples on the compounds and have enough left over for their own palatial residences, as well.  However, these compounds were usually distributed in various areas, where those individuals presumably held some level of local control. It is unclear to me how exactly the early court functioned as far as housing individuals, and how often the court was "in session", as it were, with the noble houses.  Presumably they had local accommodations and weren't constantly traveling back and forth to the palace all the time.  We know that some houses sent individuals, men and women, to be palace attendants, even though they lived some distance away.  This was also likely a constraint on the Yamato court's influence in the early days. We do see the sovereign traveling, and various "temporary" palaces being provided.  I highly doubt that these were all built on the spot, and were likely conversions of existing residences, and similar lodging may have been available for elites when they traveled, though perhaps without such pomp and circumstance. What we don't really see in all of this, are anything resembling cities.  Now, the term "city" doesn't exactly have a single definition, but as I'm using it, I would note that we don't see large, permanent settlements of significant size that demonstrate the kind of larger civil planning that we would expect of such a settlement.  We certainly don't have cities in the way of the large settlements along the Yangzi and Yellow rivers. We talked some time back about the evolution of capital city layouts on the continent.  We mentioned that the early theoretical plan for a capital city was based on a square plan, itself divided into 9 square districts, with the central district constituting the palace.  This design works great on paper, but not so much in practice, especially with other considerations, such as the north-south orientation of most royal buildings.  And then there are geographic considerations.  In a place like Luoyang, this square concept was interrupted by the river and local topography.  Meanwhile, in Chang'an, they were able to attain a much more regular rectangular appearance.  Here, the court and the palace were placed in the center of the northernmost wall.  As such, most of the city was laid out to the south of the palace. In each case, however, these were large, planned cities with a grid of streets that defined the neighborhoods.  On each block were various private compounds, as well as the defined markets, temples, et cetera. The first possible attempt at anything like this may have been with the Toyosaki palace, in Naniwa.  There is some consideration that, given the size of the palace, there may have been streets and avenues that were built alongside it, with the intention of having a similar city layout.  If so, it isn't at all clear that it was ever implemented, and any evidence may have been destroyed by later construction on the site.  Then we have the Ohotsu palace, but that doesn't seem to be at the same scale as the Toyosaki palace—though it is possible that, again, we are missing some key evidence.  Nonetheless, the records don't really give us anything to suggest that these were large cities rather than just palaces. There is also the timeline.  While both the Toyosaki palace and the Ohotsu palace took years to build, they did not take the time and amount of manpower that would be needed to create a true capital city.  We can judge this based on what it took to build the new capital at Nihiki. This project gets kicked off in the 11th month of 676.  We are told that there was an intent to make the capital at Nihiki, so all of the rice-fields and gardens within the precincts, public and private property alike, were left fallow and became totally overgrown. This likely took some time.  The next time we see Nihiki is in the 3rd month of 682, when Prince Mino, a minister of the Household Department, and others, went there to examine the grounds.  At that point they apparently made the final decision to build the capital there.  Ohoama came out to visit later that same month. However, a year later, in the 12th month of 683, we are told that there was a decree for there to be multiple capitals and palaces in multiple sites, and they were going to make the Capital at Naniwa one of those places.  And so public functionaries were to go figure out places for houses.  So it wasn't just that they wanted to build one new, grand capital.  It sounds like they were planning to build two or three, so not just the one at Nihiki.  This is also where I have to wonder if the Toyosaki Palace was still being used as an administrative center, at the very least.  Or was it repurposed, as we saw that the Asuka palaces had been when the court moved to Ohotsu? This is further emphasized a few months later, when Prince Hirose and Ohotomo Yasumaro, at the head of a group of clerks, officials, artisans, and yin yang diviners were sent around the Home Provinces to try and divine sites suitable for a capital.  In addition, Prince Mino, Uneme no Oni no Tsukura, and others were sent to Shinano to see about setting up a capital there as well.  Perhaps this was inspired by the relationship between the two Tang capitals of Chang'an and Luoyang.  Or perhaps it was so that if one didn't work out another one might. Regardless, Nihiki seemed to be the primary target for this project, and in the third lunar month of 684 Ohoama visited the now barren grounds and decided on a place for the new palace.  A month later, Prince Mino and others returned with a map of Shinano, but there is no indication of where they might want to build another capital. After that, we don't hear anything more of Shinano or of a site in the Home Provinces.  We do hear one more thing about Naniwa, which we mentioned a couple of episodes back, and that is that in 686 there was a fire that burned down the palace at Naniwa, after which they seem to have abandoned that as a palace site.  And so we are left with the area of Nihiki. This project would take until the very end of 694 before it was ready.  In total, we are looking at a total of about 18 years—almost two decades, to build a new capital.  Some of this may have been the time spent researching other sites, but there also would have been significant time taken to clear and level.  This wasn't just fields—based on what we know, they were even taking down old kofun; we are later told about how they had to bury the bodies that were uncovered.  There was also probably a pause of some kind during the mourning period when Ohoama passed away.  And on top of it, this really was a big project.  It wasn't just building the palace, it was the roads, the infrastructure, and then all of the other construction—the city gates, the various private compounds, and more.  One can only imagine how much was being invested, especially if they were also looking at other sites and preparing them at the same time.  I suspect that they eventually abandoned the other sites when they realized just how big a project it really was that they were undertaking. Today we know that capital as Fujiwara-kyo, based on the name of the royal palace that was built there, and remarkably, we know where it was.  Excavations have revealed the site of the palace, and have given us an idea of the extent of the city:  It was designed as a square, roughly 5.3 kilometers, or 10 ri, on each side.  The square itself was interrupted by various terrain features, including the three holy mountains.  Based on archaeological evidence, the street grid was the first thing they laid out, and from what we can tell they were using the ideal Confucian layout as first dictated in the Zhouli, or Rites of Zhou.  This meant a square grid, with the palace in the center. Indeed, the palace was centered, due south of Mt. Miminashi, and you can still go and see the palace site, today.  When they went to build the palace, they actually had to effectively erase, or bury, the roads they had laid out.  They did the same thing for Yakushi-ji, or Yakushi-temple, when they built it as part of the city; one of the reasons we know it had to have been built after the roads were laid out.  We will definitely talk about this more when we get to that point of the Chronicles, but for now, know that the Fujiwara palace itself, based on excavations of the site, was massive.  The city itself would surpass both Heijo-kyo, at Nara, and Heian-kyo, in modern Kyoto.  And the palace was like the Toyosaki Naniwa palace on steroids.  It included all of the formal features of the Toyosaki Palace for running the government, but then enclosed that all in a larger compound with various buildings surrounding the court itself.  Overall, the entire site is massive.  This was meant as a capital to last for the ages. And yet, we have evidence that it was never completed.  For one thing, there is no evidence that a wall was ever erected around it—perhaps there was just no need, as relations with the mainland had calmed down, greatly.  But there is also evidence that parts of the palace, even, were not finished at the time that they abandoned it.  Fujiwara-kyo would only be occupied for about 16 years before a new capital was built—Heijo-kyo, in Nara.  There are various reasons as to why they abandoned what was clearly meant to be the first permanent capital city, and even with the move to a new city in Nara it would be clear that it was going to take the court a bit of time before they were ready to permanently settle down—at least a century or so. Based on all the evidence we have, and assuming this was the site of the eventual capital, Nihiki was the area of modern Kashihara just north of Asuka, between—and around—the mountains of Unebi, Miminashi, and Kagu.  If these mountains are familiar, they popped up several times much earlier in the Chronicles--Mostly in the Age of the Gods and in the reign of the mythical Iware-biko, aka Jimmu Tennou.  Yet these three mountains help to set out the boundaries of the capital city that was being built at this time. There is definitely some consideration that they were emphasized in the early parts  of the Chronicles—the mythical sections, which were bolstering the story of Amaterasu and the Heavenly Grandchild, setting up the founding myths for the dynasty.  Even though the Chronicles  were not completed until well after the court had moved out, the Fujiwara capital is the climax of the Nihon Shoki, which ends in 697, three years into life at the new palace.  And so we can assume that much of the early, critical editing of the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki were done with the idea that this would be the new capital, and so it was woven into the histories, and had it continued as the capital, the very landscape would have recalled the stories of the divine origins of the Royal family and the state of Yamato itself.  This was the stage on which Ohoama's state was built.  He, and his successors, didn't just change the future path of the Yamato government.  They rearranged the physical and temporal environment, creating a world that centered them and their government.  I suspect that Ohoama didn't originally consider that these wouldn't be finished during his reign.  That said, he came to power in his 40s, only slightly younger than his brother, who had just died.  He would live to be 56 years old—a respectable age for male sovereigns, around that time.  From a quick glance, Naka no Oe was about 45 or 46 years old, while Karu lived to about 57 or 58.  Tamura only made it to 48.  The female sovereigns seem to have lasted longer, with Ohoama's mother surviving until she was 66 or 67 years old, and Kashikiya Hime made it to the ripe old age of 74.  That said, it is quite likely that he thought he would make it longer.  After all, look at all the merit he was accruing!  Still, he passed away before he could see these projects fully accomplished.  That would have to be left for the next reign—and even that wasn't enough.  The Fujiwara Capital would only be occupied for a short time before being abandoned about two reigns later, and the histories as we know them wouldn't be complete for three more reigns.  So given all of this, let's take another quick look at Ohoama himself and where he stands at this pivotal moment of Yamato history.When we look at how he is portrayed, Ohoama is generally lionized for the work he is said to have accomplished.  I would argue that he is the last of three major figures to whom are attributed most of the changes that resulted in the sinification of the Yamato government.  The first is prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, who is said to have written the 17 article constitution, the first rank system, and the introduction of Buddhism.  To be fair, these things—which may not have been exactly as recorded in the Chronicles—were likely products of the court as a whole.  Many people attribute more to Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, as well as Soga no Umako.  Of course, Soga no Umako wasn't a sovereign, or even a member of the royal family, and Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, seems to have likewise been discounted, at least later, possibly due to the fact that she is thought to have come to power more as a compromise candidate than anything else—she was the wife of a previous sovereign and niece to Soga no Umako.  Many modern scholars seem to focus more on the agency of Kashikiya Hime and suggest that she had more say than people tend to give her credit for.  That said, Shotoku Taishi seems to have been the legendary figure that was just real enough to ascribe success to.  That he died before he could assume the throne just meant that he didn't have too many problematic decisions of his own to apparently work around. The next major figure seems to be Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  Naka no Oe kicks off the period of Great Change, the Taika era, and is credited with a lot of the changes—though I can't help but notice that the formal sovereign, Naka no Oe's uncle, Karu, seems to have stuck with the new vision of the Toyosaki Palace and the administrative state while Naka no Oe and his mother moved back to the traditional capital.  And when Naka no Oe moved the capital to Ohotsu, he once again built a palace more closely aligned to what we see in Asuka than the one in Naniwa, which brings some questions about how the new court was operating.  But many of his reforms clearly were implemented, leveraging the new concepts of continental rulership to solidify the court's hegemony over the rest of the archipelago. Ohoama, as represented in the Chronicles, appears to be the culmination of these three.  He is building on top of what his brother had implemented through the last three reigns.  Some of what he did was consolidate what Naka no Oe had done, but there were also new creations, for which Ohoama is credited, even if most of the work was done outside of Ohoama's reign, but they were attributed to Ohoama, nonetheless.  Much of this was started later in Ohoama's reign, and even today there seem to be some questions about who did what.  Nonetheless, we can at least see how the Chroniclers were putting the story together. There are a lot of scholars that point to the fact that the bulk of the work of these projects would actually be laid out in the following reigns, and who suggest that individuals like the influential Uno no Sarara, who held the control of the government in Ohoama's final days, may have had a good deal more impact on how things turned out, ultimately.  In fact, they might even have been more properly termed her projects—there are some that wonder if some of the attributions to Ohoama were meant to bolster the authority of later decrees, but I don't really see a need for that, and it seems that there is enough evidence to suggest that these projects were begun in this period. All of this makes it somewhat ironic that by the time the narrative was consolidated and published to the court, things were in a much different place—literally.  The Fujiwara capital had been abandoned.  The court, temples, and the aristocracy had picked up stakes and moved north.  Fujiwara no Fuhito had come on the scene, and now his family was really taking off.  This was not the same world that the Chronicles had been designed around. And yet, that is what was produced.  Perhaps there is a reason that they ended where they did. From that point on, though, there were plenty of other projects to record what was happening.  Attempts to control the narrative would need to do a lot more.  We see things like the Sendai Kuji Hongi, with its alternative, and perhaps even subversive, focus on the Mononobe family.  And then later works like the Kogoshui, recording for all time the grievances of the Imbe against their rivals—for all the good that it would do.  With more people learning to write, it was no longer up to the State what did or did not get written down. But that has taken us well beyond the scope of this reign—and this episode, which we should probably be bringing to a close.  There are still some things here and there that I want to discuss about this reign—so the next episode may be more of a miscellany of various records that we haven't otherwise covered, so far.  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.  

Esta semana en Nakatomi Radio nos lanzamos de cabeza a Amor a quemarropa, el romance criminal más desatado de los noventa. Hablamos del guion incendiario de Quentin Tarantino, de la dirección estilizada de Tony Scott y de cómo una historia de amor entre un friki del cine y una chica que soñaba con otra vida termina convertida en una huida a ritmo de Elvis, cocaína y balas.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! En este No Limits hablamos de HAMNET, una película que va justo a lo que duele… y se queda ahí. No es una historia sobre Shakespeare. Es una historia sobre perder a un hijo y no saber qué hacer con ese vacío. Sobre cómo cada persona vive el duelo de una forma distinta. Y sobre cómo el arte no arregla nada, pero a veces ayuda a seguir adelante. Comentamos por qué la película decide apartar al genio y poner el foco en Agnes, en la familia, en lo doméstico, en lo que no suele verse. En los silencios, en la culpa, en lo que no se dice cuando pasa algo así.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

Armas de Mujer no es solo una comedia romántica ochentera. Es una película sobre ambición, talento, clase social… y sobre una mujer que decidió no pedir permiso. En este episodio de Nakatomi Radio nos metemos de lleno en Armas de Mujer (1988), el fenómeno protagonizado por Melanie Griffith, Sigourney Weaver y Harrison Ford que convirtió Wall Street en una pasarela de sueños, traiciones y oportunidades. Hablamos de: – Cómo Melanie Griffith pasó de “actriz infravalorada” a icono absoluto de los 80 – El personaje de Sigourney Weaver como jefa, villana… y espejo incómodo – Harrison Ford en modo crush ejecutivo – El trasfondo feminista (sí, lo tiene) – El peinado. El ascenso. El vértigo – Y por qué esta película sigue funcionando hoy Una comedia romántica con colmillo, con discurso y con una protagonista que entendió algo antes que nadie: si no te dejan sentarte a la mesa, te fabricas la tuya.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! En este NO LIMITS nos sentamos a la mesa de La cena (2025), una de las películas españolas más comentadas (y discutidas) del año, ganadora a Mejor Comedia en los Premios Feroz —una comedia incómoda, de esas que te hacen reír mientras miras de reojo al de enfrente. Hablamos de su concepción directamente cinematográfica, de cómo la puesta en escena y el uso del espacio cerrado construyen tensión sin necesidad de grandes artificios, y de cómo la cámara se convierte en un invitado más, incómodo y demasiado cercano.Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de Nakatomi Radio. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/629518

En este episodio de NAKATOMI RADIO nos lanzamos al campo de batalla con 300, la película que convirtió los abdominales en mitología, la épica en videoclip y el “¡This is Sparta!” en patrimonio cultural de Internet. Hablamos de Zack Snyder cuando todavía era una promesa con exceso de estilo y cero miedo al ridículo, de cómo adaptó el cómic de Frank Miller plano a plano, viñeta a viñeta, y de por qué 300 no quería ser histórica… quería ser una fantasía testosterónica sin complejos. Sangre digital, slow motion, frases lapidarias y mucho debate Nakatomi. Ponte los auriculares. Nosotros ponemos el vino. 🍷⚔️

Happy New Year!  As we start a new year, here is a new recap, covering all of the previous year and bringing us up to date with where we are today.  Enjoy! As usual, we have our sources and more over at our website:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/newyears2026   Rough Transcription: Shinnen Akemashite!  Happy New Year and Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is the New Year's Recap episode for 2026! Here's hoping that everyone has had a great new year.  I'm not sure about everyone else, but this past year seemed particularly long, and yet what we have covered on this podcast is only a relatively small part of the history of Yamato, so let's get into it. And in case anyone is wondering, this is covering episodes 118 to episode 140, though we will likely dip a little bit into the past as well, just to ensure we have context, where needed. We started last year in the 650's, in the second reign of Takara Hime, where we know her as Saimei Tennou.  We discussed Yamato's place in the larger world, especially in connection with the Silk Road.  In fact, we spent several episodes focused on the wider world, which Yamato was learning about through students, ambassadors, and visitors from far off lands.  Of course, that all came to a head at the Battle of Baekgang, when Yamato and their ally, Baekje, were defeated by a coalition of Tang and Silla forces, putting an end to the Kingdom of Baekje and driving Yamato to fall back and reinforce the archipelago. This was also the start of the formal reign of Naka no Oe, who would go on to be known as Tenji Tennou.  Naka no Oe would be a major proponent of substantial reforms to the Yamato government, as well as moving the capital to a new, more defensible location called Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa, in the land of Afumi.  He also introduced new concepts of time through water clocks both in Asuka and in the Afumi capital. Upon Naka no Oe's death, almost immediately, violence broke out between the Yamato court's ruling council led by Naka no Oe's son, Prince Ohotomo, and Naka no Oe's brother, Prince Ohoama.  Ohoama would emerge victorious and ascend the throne, being known as Temmu Tennou.   During his reign he took his brother's government and placed upon it his own stamp.  He reinvigorated Shinto rites while also patronizing Buddhism.  Meanwhile, relations with the continent appear to be improving. So that is the summary, let's take a look at what we discussed in more detail. First off, back to the reign of Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou—as opposed to her first reign, where she is known as Kougyoku Tennou.  Takara Hime came back to the throne in 654 after a nine-year hiatus, having abdicated in 645 when her son, Prince Naka no Oe, had killed Soga no Iruka in front of her at court, violently assassinating one of the most powerful men in Yamato. Naka no Oe had then gone on to take out Soga no Iruka's father, Soga no Emishi, a few days later.  Upon abdicating, Taka Hime's brother, Prince Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, took the throne, but there are many that suggest that the real power in court was Naka no Oe and his allies—men such as the famous Nakatomi no Kamatari.  When Karu passed away, Naka no Oe still did not take the throne, officially, and instead it reverted back to his mother. Takara Hime is interesting in that she is officially recognized as a sovereign and yet she came to the throne when her husband, known as Jomei Tenno, passed away, even though neither of her parents were sovereigns themselves.  This may have something to do with the fact that much of the actual power at the time was being executed by individuals other than the reigning sovereign.  First it was the Soga family—Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka—but then it was Naka no Oe and his gaggle of officials.  This makes it hard to gauge Takara Hime's own agency versus that of her son's. Still, the archipelago flourished during her reign.  This was due, in no small part, to the growing connectivity between the Japanese archipelago and the continent—and from there to the rest of the world.  And that world was expanding. We see mention of the men from "Tukara" and a woman—or women—from Shravastri.  Of course it is possible, even likely, that these were a misunderstanding—it is most likely that these were individuals from the Ryukyuan archipelago and that the Chroniclers bungled the transcription, using known toponyms from the Sinitic lexicon rather than creating new ones for these places.  However, it speaks to the fact that there were toponyms to pull from because the court had at least the idea of these other places.  And remember, we had Wa students studying with the famous monk Xuanzang, who, himself, had traveled the silk road all the way out to Gandhara and around to India, the birthplace of Buddhism.  The accounts and stories of other lands and peoples were available—at least to those with access to the continent.  This helped firm up the Japanese archipelago's location at the end of a vast trading network, which we know as the Silk Road.  Indeed, we find various material goods showing up in the islands, as well as the artisans that were imported to help build Buddhist temples. And just as all of this is happening, we hit a rough patch in relations between Yamato and the Tang dynasty.  In fact, in one of our most detailed accounts of an embassy to date, thanks to the writings of one Iki no Hakatoko.  Because the fateful embassy of 659 saw the Tang take the odd step of refusing to let the embassy return to Yamato.  It turns out that the Tang, who had, for some time now, been in contact with Silla, had entered into an alliance and were about to invade Baekje.  It was presumed that if the Yamato embassy left the Tang court they might alert Baekje, their ally, that something was up.  And so it was safer to place them under house arrest until the invasion popped off. Sure enough, the invasion was launched and in less than a year King Wicha of Baekje and much of the Baekje court had been captured.  With the initial invasion successful, the Yamato embassy was released, but that is hardly the end of the story.  Baekje had sent a request to Yamato for support, but it came too late for Yamato to muster the forces necessary.  That said, some factions of the Baekje court remained, and one of their Princes was still in Yamato.  And so, as they had done in the past, Yamato sailed across the strait with the goal of restoring a royal heir to the throne. Unfortunately, this was not quite as simple as it had been, previously.  For one thing, the Tang forces were still in Baekje, and the fight became long and drawn out.  Things finally came to a head in the early months of 663, at the mouth of the Baekgang river—known in Japanese as Hakusuki-no-e.  This was a naval battle, and Yamato had more ships and was also likely more skilled on the water.  After all, much of the Tang fighting was on land or rivers, while the Wa, an island nation, had been crossing the straits and raiding the peninsula for centuries.  Even with all of the resources of the Tang empire, there was still every reason to think that the forces from the archipelago could pull off a victory.  However, it was not to be.  The Tang forces stayed near the head of the river, limiting the Wa and Baekje forces' ability to manuever, drawing them in and then counterattacking.  Eventually the Tang ended up destroying so much of the fleet that the remaining Wa ships had no choice but to turn and flee. This defeat had profound consequences for the region.  First and foremost was the fall of Baekje.  In addition, Yamato forces pulled back from the continent altogether.  Along with those Baekje refugees who had made it with them back to the archipelago they began to build up their islands' defenses.  Baekje engineers were enlisted to design and build fortresses at key points, from Tsushima all the way to the home countries.  These fortresses included massive earthworks, some of which can still be seen.  In fact, parts of the ancient fortifications on Tsushima would be reused as recently as World War II to create modern defenses and gun placements. Even the capital was moved.  While many of the government offices were possibly operating out of the Toyosaki palace in Naniwa, the royal residence was moved from Asuka up to Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa.  This put it farther inland, and behind a series of mountains and passes that would have provided natural defenses.  Fortresses were also set up along the ridgelines leading to the Afumi and Nara basins. And all of this was being done under a somewhat provisional government.  The sovereign, Takara Hime, had passed away at the most inconvenient time—just as the Yamato forces were being deployed across to the peninsula.  A funerary boat was sent back to Naniwa, and Naka no Oe took charge of the government.  That there was little fanfare perhaps suggests that there wasn't much that actually changed.  Still, it was a few years before the capital in Ohotsu was completed and Naka no Oe formally ascended the throne, becoming known to future generations as Tenji Tennou.  Naka no Oe's rule may have only formally started in the 660s, but his influence in the government goes all the way back to 645.  He assassinated the Soga family heads, and then appears to have been largely responsible for organizing the governmental reforms that led that era to be known as the Taika, or era of great change.  He served as Crown Prince under Karu and Takara Hime, and from that office he ensured his supporters were in positions of authority and instituted broad changes across the board. He continued in this position under the reign of his mother, Takara Hime, and so the transition upon her death was probably more smooth than most.  This also explains how things kept running for about three years before he took the throne. In officially stepping up as sovereign, however, Naka no Oe continued to solidify the work that he had done, focused largely on consolidating power and control over the rest of the archipelago.  There were tweaks here and there—perhaps most notably changes to the ranking system, which allowed for a more granular level of control over the stipends and privileges afforded to different individuals as part of the new government.  This work was presumably being done with the help of various ministers and of his brother, Ohoama.  Ohoama only really shows up in the Chronicle around this time, other than a brief mention of his birth along with a list of other royal progeny of the sovereign known as Jomei Tennou. We also see the death of the Naidaijin, Nakatomi no Kamatari—and supposedly the head of what would become known as the Fujiwara family.  His position as Inner Great Minister was not backfilled, but rather Naka no Oe's son, Ohotomo, was eventually named as Dajo Daijin, the head minister of the Council of State, the Dajokan, placing a young 20 year old man above the ministers of the left and right and in effective control of the government under his father—though his uncle, Prince Ohoama, maintained his position as Crown Prince. However, even that wasn't for long.  As Naka no Oe became gravely ill, he began to think of succession.  Ohoama, having been warned that something was afoot, offered to retire from his position as Crown Prince and take up religious orders down in Yoshino, theoretically clearing the line of succession and indicating his willingness to let someone else inherit.  His actual suggestion was that Naka no Oe turn the government over to his wife, who could act as a regent for Ohotomo.  What actually happened, however, was that the movers and shakers in the Council of State pledged their loyalty to the Dajo Daijin, Prince Ohotomo, who was named Crown Prince and ascended the throne when his father passed away. Here there is a bit of a wobble in the historical record.  The Chronicles never mention Prince Ohotomo formally assuming the throne and therefore the Chroniclers never provide him a regnal name.  It isn't until more modern times that we get the name "Kobun Tennou" for his short-lived reign. And it was short-lived because early on Ohoama raised an army, and after several months of fighting, took the throne for himself.  Because the year this happened was known by its sexagenary term as "Jinshin", often colloquially known as a Water Monkey year, the conflict is known as the Jinshin no Ran.  "Ran" can mean disturbance, or chaos, and so is often translated as "Jinshin Disturbance", "Jinshin Revolution", or the "Jinshin War".  The entirety of the fighting is given its own chapter in the Chronicles, known as either the first year of Temmu or sometimes as the record of the Jinshin War.  This chapter actually shows some stylistic differences with the chapter on Tenji Tennou, just before it, and tells the story of the events slightly differently, in a light generally favorable to Ohoama, who would go on to become Temmu Tennou.  As such, while the broad strokes and military actions are likely correct, there are a lot of questions around the details, especially around the motivating factors. Regardless, what is known is that Ohoama was able to quickly move from his quarters in Yoshino eastward towards Owari and Mino, where he was able to cut off the capital from support and gather troops from the eastern lands.  The Court tried to take the Nara Basin—a huge symbolic and strategic point—as well as cut off his supply lines, but these actions were thwarted by those loyal to Ohoama.  Attempts to gather troops from the west had mixed results, with several allies of Ohoama resisting the Court—most notably Prince Kurikuma, who at that time was the head of the government presence in Kyushu, where a large number of troops had been stationed to defend against a possible Tang invasion.  Eventually, Ohoama's troops defeated those of the Court.  Ohotomo was killed, and those running the government, including Soga no Akae, Nakatomi no Kane, Soga no Hatayasu, Kose no Hito, and Ki no Ushi, were either executed or exiled. Ohoama then swept into power.  He moved the court back to Asuka—the move to Ohotsu had not been a popular one in the first place—and took up residence in his mother's old palace, renovating it.  It would eventually be known as the Kiyomihara palace.  From there Ohoama continued his brother's reforms, though with his own spin. First off was a reform to the ceremonies around royal ascension.  Taking the existing feast of first fruits, the Niiname-sai, Ohoama made it into a new public and private ceremony known as the Daijo-sai, which is still practiced today upon the elevation of a new sovereign.  He reformed the government court rank system and also instituted reforms around the ancient kabane system—the ancient rank system that contained both clan and individual titles. These old kabane titles had certain social cachet, but were otherwise being made obsolete by the new court ranks, which were, at least on paper, based on merit rather than just familial connections.  Of course, the truth was that family still mattered, and in many ways the new kabane system of 8 ranks simply merged the reality of the new court with the traditions of the older system. And this was something of a trend in Ohoama's reign.  The court seems to have taken pains to incorporate more kami-based ritual back into the court, with regular offerings, especially to gods associated with food, harvest, and weather.  There is also a clear focus on the shrine at Ise.  The Chroniclers claim that Ise was established and important since the time of Mimaki Iribiko, but it is only rarely mentioned, and while its founding story might be tied to that era, the Chroniclers, who appear to have started their work this reign, appear to have done their best to bolster that connection. As for actual governance, we see another change from the government of Naka no Oe.   The former sovereign relied heavily on noble families to run the government, granting them positions of responsibility.  In the Ohoama court, however, most of those positions appear to lay dormant.  Instead we see copious mention of princes—royal and otherwise—being delegated to do the work of the throne. Indeed, Ohoama seemed to want to reinstate the majesty of the royal society, including both the royal family, but also others with royal titles as well.  Still, there were plenty of ways that the noble families continued to have an influence in various spheres of government, they just weren't handed the kind of prime ministerial powers that previous generations had achieved. Within the royal family, itself, Ohoama attempted to head off future succession disputes.  He had been through one himself, and history was littered with the violent conflicts that followed on the heels of a sovereign's death.  So Ohoama gathered his family together, to include sons and nephews of consequence, and he had them swear an oath to support each other and the Crown Prince.  After doing so, he seems to have utilized them to help run the country, as well. Of course, we've seen how such pledges played out in the past, so we'll have to wait to see how it all plays out, eventually.  I'm sure it will be fine… Whilst the archipelago was going through all of this transition—from the death of Takara Hime, and then the reign and death of her son, Naka no Oe, along with the Jinshin no Ran that followed-- we have a glimpse of what was happening on the peninsula.  Yamato had fortified against a combined Silla-Tang invasion, but it seems they needn't have done so.  First off, that alliance's attention was turned northwards, to Goguryeo.  With the death of the belligerent tyrant and perpetual-thorn-in-the-side-of-the-Tang-Court, Yeon Gaesomun, the Tang armies were finally able to capture the Goguryeo court.  However, for years afterwards they were dealing with rebellions from those who had not gone quite so quietly.  And to make matters worse it turns out that these Goguryeo recalcitrants were apparently being funded by none other than Silla, the Tang's supposed ally. From the Yamato perspective this manifested, initially, as embassies from both the Tang court and the Silla court.  While the content of the embassies' messages are not fully recorded, we can imagine that both the Tang dynasty and Silla were looking for support.  At one point there was a direct request for military support, but Yamato offered a half-hearted reply along the lines of the fact that they didn't have as many able-bodied men as they once did—not after the fighting in Korea.   And that might have even been true. Either way, the Tang embassies petered out, as the Silla influence came to dominate the embassies and trade more generally.  The Tang attempted to push back against Silla, militarily—their alliance now long since dead.  Silla took some initial losses, but ultimately was able to push the Tang off of the peninsula, uniting everything from Pyongyang south.  North of Pyongyang, though still nominally under Tang dynasty control, a rebel Goguryeo court continued to act as though they were still a going concern.  They hitched a ride on Silla ships and traveled to Yamato for regular missions, maintaining diplomatic ties. As such, Yamato itself relaxed, to a certain extent, its defensive posture—but not entirely.  They continued to maintain the fortresses and there were several edicts addressing military preparedness, so as to ensure that Yamato would be ready should anything occur. And though the missions to the Tang court themselves may have been stymied in this period, it doesn't mean that Yamato lost interest in continental learning.  They had acquired numerous texts, and appear to have been devouring them, as well as generating their own observational data.  They were recording a variety of phenomena, some more clearly consequential than others.  Some of that was practical, but, in a time where there was very little dividing the natural and the supernatural in the minds of the people, they were just as likely to record a storm or an earthquake as they were the finding of a white or albino animal that is not normally that color.  Science, myth, and legend often clashed and intermingled.  Regardless, they carried on, figuring out what they could and filling in the gaps where they had to do so. And I believe that catches us up for the year.  If I were to add anything, it would probably be a short note on Ohoama's wife, Uno no Sarara hime.  Uno no Hime is only mentioned occasionally during Ohoama's reign, and yet those few times are more than many others appear to have been mentioned.  She is explicitly said to have traveled with him when he went on campaign, and is said to have been there when he made his prayers to Ise shrine.  She was also there when the family was gathered to swear to assist each other in the smooth running of the government. There is plenty to suggest that, especially with many of the Great Minister roles left empty, that Uno Hime had a much greater role in the administration of the government than is otherwise assumed.  This may have also been the case with Naka no Oe's wife.  Both women are mentioned in ways that suggest they were considered to have some amount of political clout and savvy, and had greater agency than one might otherwise conclude.  Remember, Takara Hime had twice reigned in her own right, and we aren't so many generations removed that people wouldn't know the name of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou.  We also know that there was a lot more going on, but the focus of the Chronicles is pretty firmly on the sovereign, and it is only with the greatest  of reluctance that the Chroniclers turn that lens on anyone else except the sovereign who was reigning at the time.  So I think it is safe to say that Uno likely played a large role in the court, and we will see even more of that in the coming year. But first, there is going to be more to say about the reign of Ohoama.  After all, we aren't entirely through with his reign.  We have only barely touched on the various Buddhist records in the Nihon Shoki, nor some of the various court events, as well as some sign of how the government enforced these new laws and punishments—the Ritsuryo system.  Finally, we'll talk about Ohoama's dream and vision for a new capital—a permanent capital city unlike anything that had yet been seen.  Ohoama would not see that through to completion, but we can talk about what it meant, the first permanent capital city in the archipelago:  Fujiwara-kyo. Until then, I hope that everyone had a wonderful holiday season.   As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support.  Thanks also to my lovely spouse, Ellen, for their continued work at helping to edit these episodes! Remember, 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 Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Episode 269- The Nightmare Before Christmas Also Available OnSearchable Podcast Transcript Gun Lawyer — Episode 269 Transcript SUMMARY KEYWORDS Second Amendment, New Jersey Democrats, gun laws, machine gun conversion devices, digital instructions, firearm components, gun owner gulag, cash bail, pre-trial detention, carry killer bill, sensitive places, gun rights, constitutional rights, gun lawyer. SPEAKERS Evan Nappen, Speaker 2, Teddy Nappen Evan Nappen 00:15 I’m Evan Nappen. Teddy Nappen 00:17 And I’m Teddy Nappen. Evan Nappen 00:19 And welcome to Gun Lawyer. So, the New Jersey Democrats are going to give gun owners a Nightmare Before Christmas. What they are doing is pushing a package of Second Amendment oppression upon us, and they decided that the perfect time to do it is right before Christmas. On Monday, December 22, the Senate will be having a voting session. They’re going to be looking at bills that we’re going to talk about right now, and you need to take action. You know, you need to let the legislators know that you oppose this. Hopefully you belong to the Association of New Jersey Rifle & Pistol Clubs. If not, you need to join. That’s anjrpc.org. They send out the news releases where you can immediately take action and let the legislature know your feelings on their oppression of our Second Amendment rights as they continue to attack them. Evan Nappen 01:33 Now, we have some very problematic laws that they’re going to be trying to jam through, and I want to make sure that you’re aware of what they are and what they mean. So, we have what is A-4974, and its companion in the Senate is S-3893. (https://www.njleg.state.nj.us/bill-search/2024/S3893) This bill establishes criminal penalties for sale and possession of machine gun conversion devices. Now, of course, these things are already banned. They’re already banned under federal law and state law, but New Jersey just can’t ban something enough, right? So, they’re just duplicating here even more bans upon bans. This is supposedly addressing so-called Glock triggers, but New Jersey usually finds a way to expand it to all kinds of other nonsense. We’ve seen these things lead off into false charges over devices that are not designed to convert to machine guns, but instead designed to simply improve accuracy and a trigger or those kind of things. So, these things are just problematic, and they’re just putting bans on top of bans. And they just want to make sure their name is on a piece of law where they’re “doing something about it”. You know, to sell red meat to their base. So, we have that to deal with. Page – 1 – of 10Evan Nappen 03:16 Additionally, we have A-4975 and the Senate companion bill is S-3894. (https://www.njleg.state.nj.us/bill-search/2024/A3894) This bill establishes a crime of possessing digital instructions to illegally manufacture firearms and firearm components. Now, keep in mind, back in 2018 Murphy signed a law banning the use and sale these digital files already, but this bill is even worse. The mere possession of the files will result in incredibly harsh penalties, even if you unknowingly possess them on a long forgotten computer, etc. So, New Jersey is turning firearm information, pure firearm digital information, into the equivalent of possessing child pornography. Simple possession of the digital file itself. Evan Nappen 04:20 It doesn’t matter that you never had any intention to actually build a firearm, but this gun information is itself being turned into contraband. Now, of course, this brings in First Amendment issues as well as Second Amendment issues, and I’m sure this will as well be subject to challenge. But nonetheless, it puts gun owners at risk that utilize internet and such for downloads of different things. Strictly for informational purposes. Even though you had no intent to 3D print a gun or not, or to use it with a CNC machine to make guns or even gun parts. So, this bill is another oppression of Second Amendment rights, and this time an oppression of First Amendment rights. But since when do Democrats care about rights? So, you need to oppose this as well. Evan Nappen 05:25 There is another bill, Assembly 4978, and the Senate companion is 3897. (https://pub.njleg.gov/Bills/2024/S4000/3897_I1.HTM) Now, this bill requires the Attorney General to report data regarding shootings that did not result in bodily injury. This type of data accumulation is used so then they can twist it into political fodder to further pass other Second Amendment oppression laws. This is their game. So, this is a step in, you know, focusing on the potential discharge law, making accidents into crimes, and using it to become automatic licensing disqualifiers, what become essentially per se felonies. This is how their evil works. This is what they do. This is their machinations, and this is the beginnings of them laying the groundwork to do that very thing. We’ve seen this playbook before, as they put data together that they then abuse in the manner that suits their purposes. So, of course, we have to fight this. Evan Nappen 06:53 Another incredibly serious other bill that’s in the Nightmare Before Christmas is Assembly 4981. The companion is S-3900. (https://www.njleg.state.nj.us/bill-search/2024/A4981) Now, this bill is a Gun Owner Gulag enhancement bill. This law will take the Gun Owner Gulag and make it even worse. So, as you should be familiar, but I want to make sure you are, New Jersey has the Gun Owner Gulag, which is New Jersey’s elimination of cash bail. In getting rid of cash bails, like so many progressive blue states took those actions to do that in the specifically during the, you know, defund police movement and all that. You normally hear about the cashless bails being utilized, where actual criminals, bona fide bad guys, you know, rapists, murders, etc, are put in a revolving door and released very quickly out in the street, particularly if they have other characteristics that the Left is favoring, such as being, you Page – 2 – of 10know, illegally in the country and things like that. They want those people out fast. So, it gets used in that way. Evan Nappen 08:15 But when it comes to weaponization of it against gun owners, well, that’s a different story. They want to imprison us. Okay? So they want to make sure that any gun owner that has a problem, well, they’re going to be subject to the Gulag, where they’re going to be held without bail until their trial, because there is no more bail in New Jersey. And what happens is the prosecutor seeks what is called pre-trial detention. And if pre-trial detention is granted, you’re going to sit in jail, having been proven guilty of nothing, until your trial, and that can be months or years. So, this is the Gulag, and that’s how it operates. Well, that’s bad enough. We fight these Gulag cases all the time, trying to get gun owners out because just about any gun offense is a felony level. New Jersey calls them crimes, and they’re normally warrant offenses. You get arrested and then you’re put through the Gulag where you’re held for 48 hours while the prosecutor decides whether to seek pre-trial detention or not. Evan Nappen 09:20 And their policies are, generally, in every gun case, they seek the Gulag, which is to hold you without bail. So, you’re going to be held at least, normally, another five days before your hearing, where your attorney will finally get to argue to get you out. And if your attorney is not successful in doing that, you are staying in with no bail. Well, this bill is an enhancement to that. It will allow the court to take even more time on any firearm offense where they get to hold you for yet another seven days, so that an operability report can somehow be provided regarding the operability of a firearm, which is often irrelevant to the criminal charge, especially in New Jersey. Operability is not even necessarily required for a firearm conviction, but here the abuse of it will be added into the Gulag’s initial holding of the gun owner. So, now you’re going to be arrested on the warrant charge on whatever the allegation of the firearm offense is, even though you’re innocent, it won’t matter. It’s a gun offense. So, the 48 hours, the prosecutor by way of their policy is going to hold you seeking pre-trial detention. Then that pre-trial detention hearing has to get scheduled within, arguably, five days, and normally it’s about that, five days, before you have the hearing. Evan Nappen 10:57 But if we get to that hearing and they say, oh no, we want another seven days, at least, here the seven days to get an operability report. So, now you’re going to be in jail for approximately two weeks, two weeks, without bail, because there is no bail. And that’s just to get you to the hearing so your attorney can try to argue to defeat the prosecutor’s motion for pre-trial detention. And they’re going to now throw this into the mix. So, you can figure with any gun arrest, you know, you’re falsely accused of being in a “sensitive place” or you’re falsely accused of possession of an assault firearm, or you’re falsely accused of unlawful possession of your handgun. You know all kind of false charges and gun rights oppression that I deal with all the time in practice. Well, you’re going to be at least two weeks in jail now before we can even get you out so we can fight the charge that will eventually get you acquitted of. Isn’t that cute? And that’s if your attorney knows how to get you out and succeeds in doing so. Because if not, you’ll just sit in jail until your trial to finally prove that. So, this is the just horrible addition to the Gun Owner Gulag. Page – 3 – of 10Evan Nappen 12:20 These bills need to be fought, and they need to be fought vigorously. Make sure you make your voices heard. Make sure you belong to ANJRPC, the Association of New Jersey Rifle & Pistol Clubs. They have a full-time paid lobbyist. They have a vigorous process here trying to fight this, but of course, we’re dealing with a state where it is a tremendous battle for the forces of constitutional rights protection. Here to succeed, it’s a difficult, challenging environment, but we have to keep up the fight. We have to make our voices known, and we can make changes. As a matter of fact, that Gulag bill, the Association was able to change the original form where it was an indefinite amount of time until they finally got the report. At least it’s been modified to a mere seven days extra. So, now it’s only two weeks in jail, guilty of nothing. Simply because you lawfully exercised your rights in New Jersey. So, these laws are terrible. They are more oppression from our oppressors. We need to fight it and make sure you do. Evan Nappen 13:44 Now, on a little bit of a Christmas gift here, despite the nightmare that the New Jersey Democrats are placing upon us. I do want to mention that thanks to President Trump and his appointment of judges throughout the land, not the least of which, of course, is the Supreme Court, getting three conservative constitutionalist judges there. But also his ability to add to the judges of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals. And because of President Trump particularly adding the last two judges that are constitutional judges that understand the significance of the Second Amendment, the full panel of 14 judges has agreed to hear the appeal in the Siegel versus Platkin, which is the Carry Killer lawsuit that challenges all these sensitive places and the other onerous restrictions that were put forward in the Carry Killer bill. And as you may know, the initial appeal with the three-judge panel, the three-judge panel that had ruled not tremendously in our favor, has been wiped out, wiped out. Now, the full panel of 14 judges are going to hear and decide the Carry Killer bill. This is very good news for us. Evan Nappen 15:26 This is something that makes me cautiously optimistic that we’re going to see some protection and our Second Amendment rights enforced, and it’s very, very important. Of course, New Jersey fought tooth and nail to try to stop the full panel from granting the en banc full panel, but the Association, particularly my good friend and colleague, Dan Schmutter, was successful here in having that full panel take the case. So, this will also bode well, because by getting a decision that knocks out most, if not all, of the Carry Killer bill, it’ll also lay the groundwork for the Supreme Court of the United States. If we start getting split decisions in the circuits over these sensitive place gambit that the Second Amendment oppressionists have pulled after Bruen to try to limit our rights, we may, in fact, see even a national case killing it permanently for the country. But here in New Jersey, we stand in good stead at the moment. Evan Nappen 16:47 Keep in mind that, at the moment, where can you carry and what are the categories where you can and can’t carry right now, at the current state. Remember, you cannot lawfully carry, even with a New Jersey carry permit, within 100 feet of a public gathering, demonstration or event requiring a Government permit. You’re still barred from zoos, parks, beaches, recreational facilities or areas owned or controlled by the state, county or local government unit designated as a gun-free zone. Publicly Page – 4 – of 10owned or leased libraries or museums. Bars or restaurants where alcohol is served and any other sites or facilities where alcohol is sold for consumption on the premises. Entertainment facilities. Casinos and related facilities. And healthcare facilities. Evan Nappen 17:41 Now you currently can lawfully carry with a New Jersey carry permit, of course, while this appeal is not resolved. These things are still blocked, though, and you’re able to carry, and this isn’t a complete list. But essentially in vehicles. As you may recall, the carjacker protection law that was built into the Carry Killer law, saying that you couldn’t have your loaded gun on your person in your vehicle. That is still blocked, and we are, we may carry in our vehicle, in that manner. Private property open to the public is no longer and still is not a sensitive place. In public film locations, we are able to carry. Additionally, the ruling is still in effect blocking the insurance requirement. As you may recall, at some point, Murphy issued an Executive Order banning the sale of so-called murder insurance, where you had gun owner protection programs, and then proceeded in the Carry Killer bill to mandate by law that you get actual murder insurance. Meaning insurance if someone commits an intentional act with a firearm, essentially murdering somebody. That’s been blocked. So, we don’t have to have insurance to have a carry license. And blocking certain permit procedures and requirements that were more administrative in nature. Evan Nappen 19:23 So, this is where we’re standing. But the good news is, with the full panel reviewing it, I’m very excited to see that outcome, and so should you. So, there is still hope. There is hope that the judiciary is going to speak for our rights, and that same full panel will be also considering New Jersey’s magazine ban and so-called assault firearm ban. So we are hopeful for some very good outcomes here, and we’ll keep you informed here on Gun Lawyer. Evan Nappen 20:07 Let me also mention our good friends at WeShoot. That’s where Teddy and I both shoot and where we get our training. And you will love WeShoot. WeShoot is a great indoor range right in Lakewood, conveniently off the Parkway. They constantly run great sales, and they have great service, a fantastic pro shop and a state of the art range, great training. I really can’t give it high enough praise. We love WeShoot, and so will you. Check out WeShoot at weshootusa.com. They have a great website with beautiful photographs. And you don’t want to miss the WeShoot girls that are there posing with some of the finest guns that you will ever see. So, make sure you go to WeShoot and take advantage of that fantastic resource for gun owners, right in New Jersey. Evan Nappen 21:11 And let me also shamelessly plug my book, which is New Jersey Gun Law, the Bible of New Jersey gun law. Make sure you get the book, folks. You need this book. It is the guidebook to keeping you safe, out of jail and not committing GOFUs in New Jersey. It’s 120 topics, all question and answer. It fills you in so you will know what the law is. It is the guidebook used by thousands and thousands of gun owners throughout New Jersey. You can get your copy today by going to EvanNappen.com. EvanNappen.com. Hey, Teddy, what do you have for us today? Page – 5 – of 10Teddy Nappen 21:56 Well, one of the things you know, it’s the holidays, Christmas, and everything’s coming along, and all the wins that have been coming through, and all the crazy insanity that you’ve described. I always think back to the show that you introduced me to, Paladin. There’s a particular episode, I think it was even the Christmas episode where Paladin is there. It’s a whole deal with the fan, like, there’s a small, I think it’s like a house living out there. And the ending line to the whole episode is, it’s Christmas. He’s saying to the guy, it’s Christmas. This is the, this is the one day of the year where we pretend there’s no evil. And that kind of sticks with me in the idea of this is supposed to be the time spent with family, and particularly, we can pretend and not think about all the anti-gun jerks and the gun rights oppressors. This is the time to enjoy Christmas movies, particular ones that involve firearms. So, as I was scanning through the internet, I saw one, I love this article, the top 10 Christmas movies with guns. (https://blog.cheaperthandirt.com/top-10-christmas-movies-with-guns/) Hey. Evan Nappen 23:17 So, that is what Christmas should be about. Guns. Teddy Nappen 23:22 Yeah, exactly. And to start things off, of course, they go with the most controversial one, which is Die Hard. Evan Nappen 23:31 Which we will agree is a Christmas movie. Teddy Nappen 23:35 Correct. I’ve heard all the debates. Evan Nappen 23:37 Ho, ho, ho. I have a machine gun. How does it get any less Christmas than that. Teddy Nappen 23:42 And quite simply, it’s not Christmas without Hans Gruber falling off the Nakatomi building. Evan Nappen 23:49 Yeah, and you know what gun he had, right? Teddy Nappen 23:55 So, well, you had Bruce Willis with his Beretta 92 with the focus. Evan Nappen 24:01 Of course. Teddy Nappen 24:02 But there’s also the MP 5. Page – 6 – of 10Evan Nappen 24:05 Yippie IA, Yippie Ki A. Teddy Nappen 24:08 And the P7 M13s. Evan Nappen 24:12 P7 that what Hans there, I believe, had. Teddy Nappen 24:17 Correct. And it was very good gun play in that part, where he’s no bullets, and it tricks him. The next one, this is actually, it’s one of those where it’s like, what the heck is this movie? I had to watch it, though. I think you were there when we watched Fat Man. Evan Nappen 24:36 Oh god, yeah. Teddy Nappen 24:37 It is probably the funniest, like, weirdest film you could watch. We have Mel Gibson and is this whole plot to murder Santa Claus. It’s him fighting, fighting Boyd Crowder from Justified. Walter Goggins. Crazy gun play between a 1911 and the fat man using a Colt Walker. Evan Nappen 25:06 Yep, definitely. It’s an entertaining film. Teddy Nappen 25:12 Yeah, it’s just one of those. I was like, okay, interesting. Now, this is technically Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, which is a Christmas heist of a film. I don’t know if you ever saw it. With Robert Downey, Jr. Evan Nappen 25:26 I may have. Teddy Nappen 25:27 Kind of an action comedy. They’re carrying their Vector CP One. Evan Nappen 25:34 Oh, Vectors are in it. Huh, okay. Teddy Nappen 25:35 Yeah. And, of course, another HK P7. It’s kind of one of one of those, you kind of spot there. But I was like, I didn’t realize it involved Christmas. Page – 7 – of 10Teddy Nappen 25:44 The one I will highlight, though I always thought was funny, he put on Home Alone, one and two. Here’s the reason. Because, remember, the kid, he plays that clip, the black and white movie where he keeps. Evan Nappen 25:44 Well, you know, the P7 used to be the pistol of the New Jersey State Police, but they had over 40 accidental discharges with it, and they gave it up. And that’s because, although it was marketed as being one of the safest guns, the problem is, it’s a front squeeze that cocks the gun, when you squeeze the front. Unlike a 1911 that has a safety on the back, this squeeze cocks from the front. And the problem is, if you, if you’re not practiced and trained well enough, when you draw the gun out of a holster, you’re cocking it as you pull it out, and that creates a situation that is not exactly the safest situation to be in. There were numerous ADs with that gun. So, something to keep in mind. I think they’re cool and a very interesting design, but I remember seeing Superintendent Pagano talking about it. And he basically said, hey, look, it’s not the gun’s fault. He’s blaming his men. How nice of him. Yeah, right. So that was that episode of the gun, in theory, seeming like it may have been one of the safest guns, but in reality, it was prone to needing a lot of training to make sure that you didn’t cock it until you were ready to. So, there you go. Evan Nappen 27:36 Oh yeah. Teddy Nappen 27:36 The bad guys, oh yeah, yeah. Well, I believe you, but my tommy gun don’t. And it’s like, you’ve been smooching with everybody. Snuffy, Dale, Leo, Little Mo with the gimpy leg, Bony Bob, Cliff, and the guy thinks he’s actually like sleeping with all these individuals. Evan Nappen 27:58 Great. Teddy Nappen 27:59 Yeah. The Thompson 1921 AC sub machine gun. The actual movie is Angel With Filthy Souls. Evan Nappen 28:08 Hmm huh. Okay. Teddy Nappen 28:11 Yeah. Evan Nappen 28:11 So, that was actually a clip from an actual movie? Teddy Nappen 28:14 Yeah, that was funny. And, of course, The Christmas Story with the Red Ryder BB gun. Page – 8 – of 10Evan Nappen 28:20 Oh, the classic of all classics. And in New Jersey, that’s a firearm. It’s not a BB, you know? It’s not just a little old BB gun. There it is, bona fide, defined as a firearm. Teddy Nappen 28:32 Yeah. And they threw in some honorable mentions, like White Christmas. Where it takes, the start is at the Battle of the Bulge. So, you have the M1 Garand coming into play of that. And then. Evan Nappen 28:46 As Patton said, the greatest battle rifle ever devised. Teddy Nappen 28:51 I’d agree. And then you have Scrooged with Santa wielding the XM 556 mini gun. Evan Nappen 29:00 Okay. Teddy Nappen 29:02 And then also Bill Murray with his, remember, he had a stainless snub nose revolver because he’s freaking out that a ghost is there. Evan Nappen 29:10 Okay, yeah. Teddy Nappen 29:12 They couldn’t determine that. Evan Nappen 29:14 He didn’t do much with him and guns, but yeah. Unless it’s some gun for taking out ghosts, right? Ghost Busters. Teddy Nappen 29:22 Oh, and of course, our Majesty’s Secret Service, James Bond and Christmas, what more could you want? With his Walther PPK. Evan Nappen 29:33 Oh yeah, James Bond sometimes had some screwy gun stuff. I remember in one of them where he has an AR7, and the guy’s talking about. And it’s a 25 caliber AR. I’m like, it’s not 25. It’s 22. But hey, what do they know? Teddy Nappen 29:52 Yeah, it’s, this is just a fun list, and it’s something I just kind of like, wow, I didn’t really consider some of these as, like, Chrismas movies. But I guess so. Page – 9 – of 10Evan Nappen 30:03 Well, as long as it has guns in it, we’ll declare them to be Christmas movies. Teddy Nappen 30:08 Fair enough. If it has a gun and it’s a Christmas movie, that’s it. Evan Nappen 30:11 That’s it. That’s the standard from now on. From now on, that’s the standard. Teddy Nappen 30:16 There you go. Evan Nappen 30:17 Oh, that’s good stuff, Teddy. And soon we’ll be enjoying Christmas guns. That’s the deal. That’s the deal. Hey, it is very important that we discuss this week’s GOFU, which is the Gun Owner Fuck Up. These are mistakes that actual clients make that causes them problems, expensive problems. You get to learn for free. And this week’s GOFU is about printing. And I don’t mean printing with your computer printer. I mean about your gun showing when you’re carrying concealed. Now, in New Jersey, it’s not illegal to print. Believe it or not. A gun has to be concealed, but it doesn’t address printing while concealed. However, in New Jersey, you don’t want to print. Because not only do we need to carry concealed, but you want to keep that concealment private and secret. Evan Nappen 31:20 New Jersey is loaded with all kinds of people that are scared of guns, aren’t used to guns, and they can end up calling police because they think someone’s carrying a gun. And next thing you know, even though you’re legal to carry. You also give away tactical advantage, if people can make you as carrying. And this is an issue where individuals can make false accusations against you if they believe that you’re carrying. So, you want to make sure you don’t print when you conceal carry in Jersey. Make sure you are as discrete as possible. Also, you don’t want to inadvertently end up in a sensitive place and have a gun identified on you because you’re printing. You shouldn’t be in a sensitive place, but if you’re printing and in a sensitive place, then you’re going to have a bigger problem. So, be very conscientious when you carry, whether or not you’re printing, or whether your method of carry allows for inadvertent display of your firearm, even for a moment, because you want to stay discrete. You want your concealed carry to be concealed carry, and ultimately that gives you, if nothing else, a tactical advantage of surprise should you need your gun. Evan Nappen 32:51 This is Evan Nappen and Teddy Nappen reminding you that gun laws don’t protect honest citizens from criminals. They protect criminals from honest citizens. Speaker 2 33:01 Gun Lawyer is a CounterThink Media production. The music used in this broadcast was managed by Cosmo Music, New York, New York. Reach us by emailing Evan@gun.lawyer. The information and opinions in this broadcast do not constitute legal advice. Consult a licensed attorney in your state. Page – 10 – of 10 Downloadable PDF TranscriptGun Lawyer S3 E269_Transcript About The HostEvan Nappen, Esq.Known as “America's Gun Lawyer,” Evan Nappen is above all a tireless defender of justice. Author of eight bestselling books and countless articles on firearms, knives, and weapons history and the law, a certified Firearms Instructor, and avid weapons collector and historian with a vast collection that spans almost five decades — it's no wonder he's become the trusted, go-to expert for local, industry and national media outlets. Regularly called on by radio, television and online news media for his commentary and expertise on breaking news Evan has appeared countless shows including Fox News – Judge Jeanine, CNN – Lou Dobbs, Court TV, Real Talk on WOR, It's Your Call with Lyn Doyle, Tom Gresham's Gun Talk, and Cam & Company/NRA News. As a creative arts consultant, he also lends his weapons law and historical expertise to an elite, discerning cadre of movie and television producers and directors, and novelists. He also provides expert testimony and consultations for defense attorneys across America. Email Evan Your Comments and Questions  talkback@gun.lawyer Join Evan's InnerCircleHere's your chance to join an elite group of the Savviest gun and knife owners in America.  Membership is totally FREE and Strictly CONFIDENTIAL.  Just enter your email to start receiving insider news, tips, and other valuable membership benefits.   Email (required) *First Name *Select list(s) to subscribe toInnerCircle Membership Yes, I would like to receive emails from Gun Lawyer Podcast. (You can unsubscribe anytime)Constant Contact Use. Please leave this field blank.var ajaxurl = "https://gun.lawyer/wp-admin/admin-ajax.php";

For many people, Christmas feels less like “peace on earth” and more like an attack on the Nakatomi building. Emotional chaos, stress, broken relationships, anxiety, grief, financial pressure, and hidden struggles can make this season overwhelming. We assume God only shows up when life is calm and put together—but the Christmas story reminds us that God steps into the mess, the fear, and the broken places to rescue us.THE BIG IDEA: Christmas is the story of God entering our chaos to rescue us.

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.

Noize and I tear into Die Hard — scene by scene, bullet by bullet — to find out what really makes it tick. To hear the full conversation, listen to Season 4: Episode 5 - Trapped at Nakatomi.

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.  

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.

Judy Nakatomi shares meditative offerings: Morning Chant from the Plum Village Tradition, guided meditation, and an Offering of Merit from the Shin Tradition in Japanese (Ékoku). The recording of bird sounds was made by Judy at Plum Village. Listen to her full interview with Rev. Liên to hear about Judy's experience with biculturality and the complexity and beauty of practicing Buddhism across traditions. GUEST:JUDY YUSHIN NAKATOMI (she/we) is a mother, partner, auntie, writer and community cultivator, nurturing BIPOC sangha. past work/life as tea ambassador/ importer, congressional field rep and hospice caregiver. Judy  is an ordained dharma teacher in the Plum Village tradition, certified ministerial assistant, and descendant of ancestors incarcerated during war; dedicated to understanding the wisdom of intergenerational joy and sorrow.  Writing highlights:https://littleawakenings.blogspot.com/https://www.okaeri.org/okaeri-bookhttps://www.lionsroar.com/the-evolutionary-journey-of-mothering/Connect with Judy:IG: judy_yushin_nakatomiSubtack: Judy Nakatomi

Judy Yushin Nakatomi talks about her practice in the Zen and Shin traditions. She also discusses how she is practicing with her Bodhisattva vows through engaging with the current internment of minority people, while practicing awareness of her own family's history with war wounds. Judy and Rev Liên share with each other some of the nuances of having or not having access to ancestral languages and culture, and how they navigate being Asian American Buddhist practitioners in the United States. People/Organizations mentioned in the episode:Dr. Satsuki Ina  Dr. Duncan Ryūken Williams Bishop Marvin Harada Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh  Tsuru for SolidarityVista Buddhist TempleGUEST:JUDY YUSHIN NAKATOMI (she/we) is a mother, partner, auntie, writer and community cultivator, nurturing BIPOC sangha. past work/life as tea ambassador/ importer, congressional field rep and hospice caregiver. Judy  is an ordained dharma teacher in the Plum Village tradition, certified ministerial assistant, and descendant of ancestors incarcerated during war; dedicated to understanding the wisdom of intergenerational joy and sorrow.  Writing highlights:https://littleawakenings.blogspot.com/https://www.okaeri.org/okaeri-bookhttps://www.lionsroar.com/the-evolutionary-journey-of-mothering/Connect with Judy:IG: judy_yushin_nakatomiSubtack: Judy NakatomiHOST:REV LIÊN SHUTT (she/they) is a recognized leader in the movement that breaks through the wall of American white-centered convert Buddhism to welcome people of all backgrounds into a contemporary, engaged Buddhism. As an ordained Zen priest, licensed social worker, and longtime educator/teacher of Buddhism, Shutt represents new leadership at the nexus of spirituality and social justice, offering a special warm welcome to Asian Americans, all BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, immigrants, and those seeking a “home” in the midst of North American society's reckoning around racism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia. Shutt is a founder of Access to Zen (2014). You can learn more about her work at AccessToZen.org. Her new book, Home is Here: Practicing Antiracism with the Engaged Eightfold Path. See all her offerings at EVENTS

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.

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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.  

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.

This episode we are covering the end of the reign of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  We cover the events in the Chronicles, including the death of Nakatomi no Kamatari, the creation of the Fujiwara family, the destruction of Goguryeo, and the continued development of the Baekje refugees. For more, check out the podcast blog at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-128 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 128: Immigrants, Princes, and High Officials. There was a pall over the house, despite the visiting royal retinue creating something of a stir,.  While craftspeople were still hard at work repairing damage from the lightning strike only a few months earlier, that wasn't the reason for the low spirits.  Rather, the house was worried for their patriarch, the Naidaijin, Nakatomi no Kamatari.  He had fallen ill, and despite all the pleas to the kami and the Buddhas , it seemed the end might be near. And so even the sovereign himself had come.  Kamatari was not just a loyal official, but  a close friend of the sovereign, someone who had been there since the beginning.  And so we can imagine how Naka no Oe felt.  He may have been the sovereign of Yamato, but he was still a human being, visiting his friend of some 30 or so years, knowing that for all of the power that he held, there was nothing he could do against the ravages of time and disease.     The year is 668—Naka no Oe has moved the capital to Ohotsu, on the banks of Lake Biwa, and has formally assumed the throne. This episode we are going to cover the last several years of Naka no Oe's reign.  In contrast to last week's dive into Yamato science, this week is going to be a bit of a grab bag, looking at what was going on in Yamato and talking about what was recorded in the Chronicles. And for the most part, the entries for the rest of the year 668 are fairly normal, and yet there are some oddities… For instance, in the fourth month we are told that Baekje sent Mitosapu and others to offer tribute.  And any other time that would be just a normal thing.  Except that at this point in history, Baekje was about as going a concern as a parrot in a Monty Python sketch.  So if the Kingdom of Baekje was no longer a thing, who was it that was sending the tribute? Most likely it was the Baekje communities in exile living in the archipelago.  Remember how many of them had settled around Biwa and in 666, two thousand Baekje people were settled somewhere in the East.  These immigrants  were still being supported by the Yamato government, who were basically subsidizing their settlement for the first three years, during which time they would be expected to make it into a permanent settlement. Based on the way the Chronicles talk about it, these early Baekje communities sound like they were maintaining a kind of kingdom in exile.  With many immigrants from Baekje living together in proximity, they were likely keeping their own groups, with their own language and traditions, at least for now.  It would be interesting to know if there were specific Baekje settlements that have been identified through the archaeological record.   That said, we definitely see Baekje's mark on the archipelago: Physically, there are the Baekje style castles, and various temples following Baekje style layouts.  Of course there were also continental building styles, but some of that was shared across multiple cultures at this point, and one should consider how much Baekje influence might have been found in things that we later see as Japanese. Additionally, Baekje nobles were involved in the court, often given court rank based in part on their rank in Baekje, though it wasn't quite equivalent.  Still,  in time, some of the nobles would trace their lineages back to Baekje nobles and princes. Speaking of princes and Baekje, on the fifth day of the fifth month of 668 —a day that would come to be known as Ayame no hi, or Tango no Sekku, one of the major days of court ceremony—Naka no Oe went out hunting on the moor of Kamafu, known today as Gamou district, near Kanzaki, where 400 Baekje people had been settled.  He was out there with the Crown Prince, his younger brother, aka Prince Ohoama, and all the other princes and ministers.  A grand outing. A month later, however, tragedy struck.  One “Prince Ise” and his younger brother died on consecutive days.  While this was undoubtedly a blow to the court, the interesting thing for our purposes – which also highlights the challenge of interpreting the Chronicles is that we aren't exactly sure who this is referring to.  It's not the first time we've seen this title: we first see a “Prince Ise” show up around 650, during the presentation of the white pheasant that ushered in the Hakuho era, but we later see that that individual had passed away in 661.  We also see the name show up less than 20 years later in the Chronicles for another prince, so this can't be the same.  So this is clearly a position or title for a prince, but it isn't clear if it was passed down or inherited.   One possibility is that “Prince Ise” or “Prince of Ise” was a title for one of the royal sons. IAt this point in the narrative, Naka no Oe had three sons.  Prince Takeru had passed away at the age of 8, but he also had Prince Kawajima, Prince Shiki, and Prince Iga, aka Prince Ohotomo, all sons of “palace women”.  We know, though, that these princes show up later, so I don't think the so-called Prince Ise was one of them.  Perhaps another line?   The term “Prince” might also refer to something other than a royal son.  You see, English translators have often been somewhat cavalier with the way we tend to render titles.  The English term “Prince” has  been used for “Hiko”, “Miko”, or “Ou” (which was probably pronounced “Miko” in many of these cases).  And in English, we often think of “Prince” as the son of a king, but “Prince” can also be an independent ruler of a principality, or may just refer to a person with power in a monarchic state.  Even the term “king” is not unambiguous—early European accounts of Japan during the Warring States period often refer to the various daimyou as “kings”, given the often absolute dominion with which they apparently ruled their particular domains. At this time, the term “Miko”  (also pronounced “ouji”, or “koushi”, or even “sume-miko”) seems rather unambiguously to refer to a “royal prince”, from the lineage of the sovereign.  The term “Ou”, which also seems to be read as “Miko” in some cases, is also the term for “King” and probably more broadly fits the concept of a “prince” as a ruler.  However, in this case, it seems to be equal to the term “Miko”, and may have been used almost interchangeably for a time, though later it would be used to refer to members of princely rank who were not directly related to a reigning sovereign—the grandchildren and so forth of royal princes who did not go on to inherit. In this case, I think the best we can say for certain is that Prince Ise—or the Prince of Ise—was someone important enough to be included in the chronicles – but who he was, exactly, will remain a mystery for now. The following month, the 7th month, was chock full of activities.  First of all, Goguryeo sent envoys by way of Koshi—meaning they landed on the Japan Sea side, probably around Tsuruga.  While this may just have been closer, I suspect it meant they avoided any Tang entanglements traveling through the Bohai sea.  They did run into a spot of trouble, however, as the winds and waves prevented their return. Koshi also shows up as presenting some strange gifts to the court:  burning earth and burning water.  There is some thought that maybe this is something like coal or natural oil deposits. We are also told that in this month, Prince Kurikuma was appointed the governor of Tsukushi.  Kurikuma no Ou appears to have been the grandson—or possibly great-grandson—of the sovereign, Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  The position Kurikuma was given was important, of course, overseeing the Dazai, which meant overseeing anyone traveling to the archipelago from the continent. This would be a relatively short-lived appointment—this time.  He would be re-appointed about three years later, which would prove important, as he would be governor there during some particularly momentous events.    Stories appear to have continued about him in the Nagasaki region, and various families traced their lineage back to him. Also in that month, we are told that Afumi, home of the new capital, practiced military exercises—likely in preparation in case of a future Tang or Silla invasion.  Recall we discussed in Episode 126 how the choice of Afumi as a capital site might have been related to its defensibility in the event of such an invasion. At the same time, the court entertained Emishi envoys, and the toneri, by royal command, held banquets in various places. There is also mention of a shore-pavillion, presumably at Lake Biwa, where fish of various kinds came, covering the water.  Interestingly enough, there is another story of a “shore pavilion”, likely the same one, in the Fujiwara Family Record, the Toushi Kaden.  We are told that Prince Ohoama – Naka no Oe's younger brother spiked a large spear through a plank of wood in some kind of feat of strength.  This apparently shocked Naka no Oe, who saw it aa  kind of threat—perhaps seeing that his five-years younger brother was still hale and healthy.  Granted, Naka no Oe was only in his 40s, but his brother Ohoama was in his later 30s.  We are also told that at this time, in 668, Naka no Oe was apparently not doing so well, with people wondering if he would be with them much longer. The Toshi Kaden account seems rather surprising in that it claims Naka no Oe was so shocked by this proof of his brother's vitality that he wanted to have him put to death, suggesting to me that he felt that Ohoama might be a threat to him and his rule.  Ultimately, though, he was talked out of this by his old friend, Nakatomi no Kamatari – the one whom he had plotted with to overthrow the Soga, and whose relationship was initiated by an interaction on the kemari field, as we discussed in Episode 106. Speaking of whom: Nakatomi no Kamatari was still Naijin, the Inner or Interior Minister, and so  quite prominent in the administration. In the 9th month, as a Silla envoy was visiting the court, Kamatari sent Buddhist priests Hoben and Shinpitsu to present a ship to the Prime Minister of Silla, which was given to the Silla envoy and his companions, and three days later, Fuse no Omi no Mimimaro was sent with a ship meant for the King of Silla as well. This incident is also recounted in the Toshi Kaden.  In this case it says that the people, hearing about the gifts to Silla, were quite upset.  After all, it stands to reason:  Yamato was still smarting from their defeat at the hands of Tang and Silla forces, and building up defenses in case of an attack.  They'd also taken in a number of Baekje nobles and families, who may have also had some influence on the court.  We are told that Kamatari himself excused all of this by stating that “All under heaven must be the sovereign's land.  The guests within its borders must be the sovereign's servants.”  In this case, all under heaven, or “Tenka”, is a common phrase used to describe a monarch's sovereignty over everything in the land.  And so, while Silla envoys were in Yamato as guests, they also fell under similar rules, and as such were considered, at least by Yamato, as the sovereign's servants and thus worthy of gifts. The Silla envoys stayed for over a month.  They finally departed by the 11th month of 668, carrying even more gifts, including silk and leather for the King and various private gifts for the ambassadors themselves.  The court even sent Chimori no Omi no Maro and Kishi no Woshibi back with the envoy as Yamato envoys to the Silla court. This all tells us that just as the Tang were working to woo Yamato, Silla was likely doing so as well.  And while Yamato might still begrudge the destruction of Baekje, they also had to face the political reality that Baekje was probably not going to be reinstated again—especially not while the Tang government was occupying the peninsula. So making nice with both Tang and Silla was prudent. Furthermore, though they had been visited by Goguryeo envoys earlier that year, Yamato may have had some inkling that Goguryeo was not in the most powerful position.  Ever since the death of Yeon Gaesomun, the Goguryeo court had been involved in infighting—as well as fighting their external enemies.  One of Gaesomun's sons had been exiled and had gone over to the Tang, no doubt providing intelligence as well as some amount of legitimacy.  What they may not have known was that as Yamato was hosting the Silla envoys, a new assault by the Tang-Silla alliance was advancing on Pyongyang and setting siege to the city.  The Nihon Shoki records that in the 10th month of 668 Duke Ying, the Tang commander-in-chief, destroyed Goguryeo. This would dramatically change the international political landscape.  Tang and Silla had been triumphant—Yamato's allies on the peninsula had been defeated, and what we know as the “Three Kingdoms” period of the Korean peninsula was over.  However, the situation was still fluid.  The peninsula was not unified by any sense of the imagination.  The Tang empire had their strategic positions from which they controlled parts of the peninsula and from which they had been supplying the war effort against Goguryeo.  They also likely had to occupy areas to ensure that nobody rose up and tried to reconstitute the defeated kingdoms.  In fact, there would be continued attempts to revive Goguryeo, as might be indicated in the name we use: by the 5th century, the country was actually using the name “Goryeo”, a shortened form of “Goguryeo”, but we continue to refer to it as “Goguryeo” to distinguish it from the country of the same name that would be established in 918, laying claim to that ancient Goguryeo identity. A bit of spoilers, but “Goryeo” is where we would eventually get the name that we know the region by, today:  “Korea”.  In the Nihon Shoki it is referred to as “Gaori”. But none of that could have been known at the time.  Instead, there was no doubt some exuberance on the side of both Silla and Tang, but that would settle into something of unease.  With Baekje and Goguryeo destroyed, Silla may have thought that Tang would leave, allowing them to solidify their hold and manage those territories as an ally.  If this is what they thought, though, I'm not sure they had run it by the Tang empire just yet. In the Yamato court, there appear to have been separate factions: a pro-Tang faction, and also a pro-Silla faction.  We have to assume, based on the actions in the record at this time, that this was a ongoing debate. The last thing I'll note for the year 668 is attempted theft.  The Buddhist priest Dougyou stole Kusanagi, the famous sword forming part of the imperial regalia, and escaped with it.  Kusanagi, you may recall, was the royal sword.  It was named “Kusanagi” or “grass cutter” because it is said that when Prince Yamato Takeru was subduing the eastern lands, he was surrounded in a field that had been set on fire, and he used Kusanagi to create a firebreak by cutting down all of the grass around him.  The sword was given to him by Yamato Hime, the Ise Princess at the time, and it was thought to have been first found by the god Susanowo inside of the legendary Yamata no Orochi.  We talked about this in Episodes 16, 34, and 35.  Yamato Takeru left the sword in Owari, and it would eventually live there, at Atsuta Jingu, Atsuta Shrine, its traditional home. It isn't clear if Dougyou obtained the sword from Owari or if it was being kept in the capital at the time.  It would have likely been brought out for Naka no Oe's coronation, but then it would probably have been returned to the shrine that was holding it. Dougyou tried to head to Silla with his illicit goods, but wind and rain forced him to turn back around.  This is a fascinating story and there's a lot to dive into here. So first off, let's point out that this is supposed to be a Buddhist priest.  What the heck was going on that he was going to try to run a heist on what are essentially the Crown Jewels of the Yamato crown?  While the sword, mirror, and jewel were still somewhat questionable as the sole three regalia, they were clearly important.  We aren't given Dougyou's motives.  We don't know enough about him.  Was he anti-Yamato or anti-Naka no Oe?  Was he actually a Buddhist priest of his own accord, or was he a priest because he was one of those who had been essentially conscripted into religious orders on behalf of some powerful noble?  Was he a Buddhist who wanted to attack the hold of the kami? Was he pro-Silla, or perhaps even a Silla descendant, trying to help Silla? Or was he just a thief who saw the sword, Kusanagi, as a valuable artifact that could be pawned outside of Yamato? That last possibility feels off.  While we aren't exactly sure what Kusanagi looked like, based on everything we know, the sword itself wasn't necessarily blinged out in a way that would make it particularly notable on the continent.    And if Dougyou and whoever his co-conspirators were just wanted to attack the Yamato government, why didn't he just dump Kusanagi in the see somewhere?  He could have destroyed it or otherwise gotten rid of it in a way that would have embarrassed the government. It seems mostly likely that this theft had something to do with pro-Silla sentiment, as if Silla suddenly showed up with the sword, I imagine that would have been some diplomatic leverage on the Yamato court, as they could have held it hostage.  In any case, the plan ultimately failed, though the Chronicles claim it was only because the winds were against him—which was likely seen as the kami themselves defending Yamato. On to a new year.  At the start of 669, Prince Kurikuma (who we mentioned above) was recalled to the capital and Soga no Akaye was appointed governor of Tsukushi. We mentioned Akaye a couple of episodes back.  He was involved in the broken arm-rest incident, where Prince Arima was plotting against Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, and Akaye's daughter Hitachi no Iratsume, was one of the formal wives of Naka no Oe, who would give birth to the princess Yamabe. Now Akaye was given the position of governor of Tsukushi. This position is an interesting one throughout Japanese history.  In many ways it is a viceroy—the governor of Tsukushi has to effectively speak with the voice of the sovereign as the person responsible for overseeing any traffic to and from the continent.  This also was likely a highly lucrative position, only handed out to trusted individuals. However, it also meant that you were outside of the politics of the court.  Early on that was probably less of a concern.  At this time, court nobles were likely still concerned with their traditional lands, which created their economic base, meaning that the court may have been the political center, but there was still plenty of ways to gain power in the archipelago and it wasn't solely through the court.  Over time, as more and more power accrued to the central court government, that would change.  Going out to manage a government outpost on the far end of the archipelago—let alone just going back to manage one's own estates—would be tantamount to exile.  But for now, without a permanent city built up around the palace, I suspect that being away from the action in the capital wasn't quite as detrimental compared to the lucrative nature of a powerful position.  Later, we will see how that flips on its head, especially with the construction of capitals on the model of those like Chang'an. For now, new governor Soga no Akaye was likely making the most of his position.  On that note, in the third month of 669, Tamna sent their prince Kumaki with envoys and tribute.  They would have come through Tsukushi, and Soga no Akaye likely enjoyed some benefits as they were entertained while waiting for permission to travel the rest of the way down to the Yamato capital.  The Tamna embassy did not exactly linger at the court.  They arrived on the 11th of the 3rd month, and left one week—seven days—later, on the 18th.  Still, they left with a gift of seed-grain made to the King of Tamna. On their way out, they likely would have again stopped in at Tsukushi for provisions and to ensure that all of their business was truly concluded before departing. A couple of months later, on the 5th day of the 5th month, we see another hunting party by Naka no Oe.  This seems to have been part of the court ritual of the time for this ceremonial day.  This time it was on the plain of Yamashina.  It was attended by his younger brother, Crown Prince Ohoama, as well as someone called “Fujiwara no Naidaijin” and all of the ministers. “Fujiwara no Naidaijin” is no doubt Nakatomi no Kamatari.  This is an interesting slip by the Chroniclers, and I wonder if it gives us some insight into the source this record came from.  Kamatari was still known as Nakatomi at the time, and was still the Naidaijin, so it is clear they were talking about him.  But historically his greatest reputation is as the father of the Fujiwara family, something we will get to in time.  That said, a lot of the records in this period refer to him as “Fujiwara”.  We've seen this previously—because the records were being written later they were often using a more common name for an individual, rather than the name—including title—that the individual actually would have borne at the time of the record.  This really isn't that different from the way we often talk about the sovereigns using their posthumous names.   Naka no Oe would not have been known as “Tenji Tennou” during his reign.  That wouldn't be used until much later.  And yet, many history books will, understandably, just use the name “Tenji” because it makes it clear who is being talked about. This hunting trip is not the only time we see the name “Fujiwara” creep into the Chronicles a little earlier than accurate: we are told that only a little later, the house of “Fujiwara” no Kamatari was struck by lightning.  But that wasn't the only tragedy waiting in the wings.  Apparently, Kamatari was not doing so well, and on the 10th day of the 10th month, his friend and sovereign, Naka no Oe, showed up to pay his respects and see how he was doing. Ever since that fateful game of kemari—Japanese kickball—the two had been fast friends.  Together they envisioned a new state.  They overthrew the Soga, and changed the way that Japan even conceived of the state, basing their new vision off continental ideas of statehood, governance, and sovereignty.  Now, Kamatari was gravely ill. What happens next is likely of questionable veracity Sinceit is unlikely that someone was there writing down the exact words that were exchanged, but the Chronicles record a conversation between the sovereign and his ill friend.  And the words that the Chroniclers put in their mouths were more about the image that they wanted to project.  According to them, Naka no Oe praised his friend, and asked if there was anything that he could do. Kamatari supposedly eschewed anything special for burial arrangements.  He supposedly said “While alive I did no service for my country at war; why, then, should I impose a heavy burden on it when I am dead?”  Hard to know if he actually felt like that or not, or if thr Chroniclers were likening him to  Feng Yi of the Han dynasty, the General of the Great Tree.  He was so-called because he would often find a tree to take time to himself.  He likewise was renowned for his dislike of ostentation, much like Kamatari foregoing a fancy burial mound. Five days later, Naka no Oe sent Crown Prince Ohoama to Kamatari's house to confer on him the cap of Dai-shiki, and the rank of Oho-omi.  They also conferred on him and his family a new surname:  Fujiwara, and so he became Fujiwara no Daijin, the Fujiwara Great Minister.  The next day he died.  One source known as the Nihon Seiki, said that he was 50 years old, but according to the Chronicles there was an inscription on his tomb that stated he died at age 55. Three days later, we are told that Naka no Oe went to the house of the now late Fujiwara no Naidaijin, and gave orders to Soga no Akaye no Omi, declaring to him his gracious will and bestowing on him a golden incense-burner.  This is somewhat odd, because as we were just talking about, Soga no Akaye had been appointed governor of Tsukushi, though the Toshi Kaden claims that it was actually Soga no Toneri who was in Tsukushi—but these could also mean the same people.  Why this happened right after Kamatari's death suggests to me that Soga no Akaye may have had something to do with the arrangements for Kamatari's funeral or something similar. Let's talk about this whole incident.  There are many that think the Nihon Shoki has things a bit out of order, and on purpose.  Specifically, it is quite likely that the name “Fujiwara” was actually granted after Kamatari's death, and not on the day of, as it has here.  He may even have been posthumously elevated.  But since the Fujiwara family would go on to be quite powerful, the order of events and how they were recorded would have been very important in the 8th century. By naming Kamatari's line the Fujiwara, the court were effectively severing it from the rest of the Nakatomi.  The Nakatomi family would continue to serve as court ritualists, but the Fujiwara family would go on to much bigger and better things.  This change also likely meant that any inheritance of Kamatari's would go to his direct descendants, and that a brother or cousin couldn't necessarily just take over as the head of the household.  So it's very possible that this “setting apart” of the Fujiwara family immediately upon Kamatari's death is a later fiction, encouraged by the rising Fujiwara themselves, in an attempt to keep others from hanging on to their coat tails, as it were. Also a quick note about the idea that there was an inscription on Kamatari's tomb.  This is remarkable because so far, we have not actually found any such markers or tombstones on burials prior to this period.  We assume that they would have been stone or wood markers that were put up by a mound to let you know something about the person who was buried there.  Over time, most of these likely wore away.  But it is interesting to think that the practice may have had older roots. The death of Kamatari wasn't the only tragedy that year.  We are also told that in the 12th month there was a fire in the Treasury, and that the temple of Ikaruga—known to us as Houryuuji, the temple built by Shotoku Taishi—also was burnt.  It isn't said how bad, but only three months later, in 670, another fire struck during a thunderstorm, and we are told that everything burned down—nothing was left. That said, it seems that they may have been able to reuse some of the materials.  I say this because an analysis of the main pillar of the pagoda in the western compound suggests that the tree it came from was felled in 594. The rest of 699 included some less dramatic events. For instance, in the 8th month, Naka no Oe climbed to the top of Takayasu, where he took advice as to how to repair the castle there.  The castle had been built only a couple of years earlier, but already needed repairs.  However, the initial repair project had been abandoned because the labor costs were too much.  The repairs were still needed, though, and they carried out the work four months later in the 12th month, and again in the 2nd month of the following year, and that stores of grain and salt were collected, presumably to stock the castle in case they had to withstand a siege. I suspect that the “cost” of repairing the castle was mostly that it was the 8th month, and the laborers for the work would have to be taken away from the fields.  By the 12th month, I can only assume that those same laborers would be free from their other duties. Speaking of costs, sometimes the Chronicles really make you wonder what was going through the mind of the writers, because they noted that the Land-tax of the Home Provinces was collected.  Maybe this was the first time it had actually been instituted?  I don't know.  It just seems an odd thing to call out. There was also 700 more men from Baekje removed and settled in Kamafu—Gamou District—in Afumi.  And then there was a Silla embassy in the 9th month, and at some point in the year Kawachi no Atahe no Kujira and others were sent to the Tang court.  In response, an embassy from the Tang to Yamato brought 2000 people with them, headed by Guo Wucong, who I really hope was getting some kind of premiere cruiser status for all of his trips. The following year, 700, started out with a great archery meeting, arranged within the palace gate.  I presume this to mean that they had a contest.  Archery at this time—and even for years to come—was prized more highly than even swordplay.  After all, archery was used both in war and on the hunt.  It is something that even the sage Confucius suggested that people should practice.  It is also helpful that they could always shoot at targets as a form of competition and entertainment. Later, on the 14th day of the 1st month, Naka no Oe promulgated new Court ceremonial regulations, and new laws about people giving way on the roads.  This rule was that those of lower status should get out of the way of those of higher status.  Funnily enough, in the description of Queen Himiko's “Yamateg”, back in the 3rd century, this was also called out as a feature of the country.  It is possible that he was codifying a local tradition, or that the tradition actually goes back to the continent, and that the Wei Chroniclers were projecting such a rule onto the archipelago.  I'm honestly not sure which is which.  Or perhaps they expanded the rules and traditions already in place.  There were also new laws about prohibiting “heedless slanders and foul falsehoods”, which sounds great, but doesn't give you a lot to go on. The law and order theme continues in the following month.  A census was taken and robbers and vagabonds were suppressed.  Naka no Oe also visited Kamafu, where he had settled a large number of the Baekje people, and inspected a site for a possible future palace.  He also had castles built in Nagato in Tsukushi, along the route of any possible invasion from the Korean peninsula. In the third month, we have evidence of the continued importance of kami worship, when they laid out places of worship close to Miwi mountain and distributed offerings of cloth.  Nakatomi no Kane no Muraji pronounced the litany.  Note that it is Nakatomi no Muraji—as we mentioned, the Nakatomi would continue to be responsible for ceremonial litany while the Imibe, or Imbe, family would be responsible for laying out the various offerings. Miwi would seem to be the same location as Miidera, aka Onjou-ji, but Miidera wouldn't be founded for another couple of years. In the 9th month of 670, Adzumi no Tsuratari, an accomplished ambassador by this point, travelled to Silla. Tsuratari had been going on missions during the reign of Takara Hime, both to Baekje and to the lands across the “Western Seas”.  While we don't exactly know what transpired, details like this can help us try to piece together something of the relative importance of the mission. In the last entry for 670, we are told that water-mills were made to smelt iron.  If you are wondering how that works, it may have been that the waterwheel powered trip hammers—it would cause the hammer to raise up until it reached a point where it would fall.  Not quite the equivalent of a modern power hammer, it still meant that fewer people were needed for the process, and they didn't have to stop just because their arms got tired. The following year, 671, got off to a grand start, with a lot of momentous events mentioned in just the first month of the year. First off, on the 2nd day of the first month, Soga no Akaye – now back from his stint as governor of Tsukushi - and Kose no Hito advanced in front of the palace and offered their congratulations on the new year.  Three days later, on the 5th day, Nakatomi no Kane, who had provided the litany at Miwi, made an announcement on kami matters.    Then the court made official appointments.  Soga no Akaye was made the Sadaijin, or Prime Minister of the Left, and Nakatomi no Kane was made Prime Minister of the Right.  Soga no Hatayasu, Kose no Hito, and Ki no Ushi were all made daibu, or high ministers.  On top of this, Naka no Ohoe's son, Prince Ohotomo, was appointed as Dajodaijin. “Dajodaijin” is a new position that we haven't seen yet, and it is one of those positions that would only show up on occasion.  It is effectively a *Prime* Prime Minister.  They were considered superior to both the ministers of the left and the right, but didn't exactly have a particular portfolio.  The Ministers of the Left and the Right each had ministries under them that they were responsible for managing.  Those ministries made up the Daijo-kan, or the Council of State.  The Dajodaijin, or Daijodaijin, was basically the pre-eminent position overseeing the Council of State.  I suspect that the Dajodaijin seems to have been the evolution of the Naidaijin, but on steroids.  Nakatomi no Kamatari had administered things as Naidaijin from within the royal household, but the Dajodaijin was explicitly at the head of the State.  Of course, Prince Ohotomo was the son of Naka no Oe himself, and the fact that he was only 23 years old and now put in a place of prominence over other ministers who were quite likely his senior, is remarkable.  I wonder how much he actually was expected to do, and how much it was largely a ceremonial position, but it nonetheless placed Ohotomo just below his uncle, Crown Prince Ohoama, in the overall power structure of the court. Speaking of which, following the new appointments, on the 6th day of the year, Crown Prince Ohoama promulgated regulations on the behalf of his brother, Naka no Oe.  There was also a general amnesty declared, and the ceremonial and names of the cap-ranks were described in what the Chronicles calls the Shin-ritsu-ryo, the New Laws. Towards the end of the first month, there were two embassies, both from now-defunct kingdoms.  The first was from Goguryeo, who reportedly sent someone named Karu and others with Tribute on the 9th day, and 4 days later, Liu Jenyuan, the Tang general for Baekje sent Li Shouchen and others to present a memorial.  I'm not sure if the Goguryeo envoys were from a government in exile or from a subjugated kingdom under Tang and Silla domination.  The Tang general in Baekje was a little more transparent.  That said, that same month we are told that more than 50 Baekje nobles were given Yamato court rank, perhaps indicating that they were being incorporated more into the Yamato court and, eventually, society as a whole.  That said, the remains of the Baekje court sent Degu Yongsyeon and others with tribute the following month. This is also the year that Naka no Oe is said to have placed the clepsydra or water clock in a new pavilion.  We talked about this significance of this last episode.  We are also told that on the third day of the third month, Kibumi no Honjitsu presented a “water level”, a Mizu-hakari.  This would seem to be what it sounds like:  A way of making sure that a surface is level using water.  There is also mention of the province of Hitachi presenting as “tribute” Nakatomibe no Wakako.  He was only 16 years old, and yet we are told he was only one and a half feet in height—one shaku six sun, more appropriately.  Assuming modern conversions, that would have put him approximately the same height as Chandra Dangi of Nepal, who passed away in 2015 but who held the Guiness World Record for the world's shortest person at 21.5”—or 54 centimeters.  So it isn't impossible. The fact that he is called “Nakatomibe” suggests that he was part of the family, or -Be group, that served the Nakatomi court ritualists.  Unfortunately, he was probably seen more as an oddity than anything else at the time.  Still, how many people from that time are not remembered at all, in any extant record?  And yet we have his name, which is more than most. In the following month, we are also told that Tsukushi reported a deer that had been born with eight legs.  Unfortunately, the poor thing died immediately, which is unfortunately too often the case. And then the fifth day of the fifth month rolled around again. This year there was no hunting, but instead Naka no Oe occupied the “Little Western Palace” and the Crown Prince and all of the ministers attended him.  We are told that two “rustic” dances were performed—presumably meaning dances of some local culture, rather than those conforming to the art standards passed down from the continent.  As noted earlier, this day would be one of the primary ceremony days of the later court. The following month, we are told that there was an announcement in regards to military measures requested by the messengers from the three departments of Baekje, and later the Baekje nobles sent Ye Chincha and others to bring tribute.  Once again, what exactly this means isn't clear, but it is interesting to note that there were three “departments” of Baekje.  It is unclear if this was considered part of the court, or if this was Baekje court in exile managing their own affairs as a guest in Yamato. It is also interesting that they seem to have been traveling to the Yamato court while Li Shouchen was still there, sent by the Tang general overseeing Baekje.  That must have been a bit of an awkward meeting.  We are told that they all took their departure together on the 11th day of the 7th month.  Does that mean they left with the Tang envoy?  Was the Tang inviting some of them to come back?  Or just that they all left the court at the same time. The same month, Prince Kurikuma was once more made Governor of Tsukushi—or possibly made governor the first time, depending on whether or not you think the Chronicles are accurate or that they pulled the same event twice from different sources.  We are also told that Silla sent envoys with gifts that included a water buffalo and a copper pheasant for the sovereign. The 8th month of the year, we hear that Karu of Goguryeo and his people took their leave after a seven month long visit.  The court also entertained the Emishi.  Two months later, Silla sent Kim Manmol and others with more tribute, but this envoy likely found a different feeling at court. And that is because on the 18th day of the 8th month, the sovereign of Yamato, Naka no Oe, took to his bed, ill.  There was a ceremony to open the eyes of 100 Buddhas in the interior of the palace, and Naka no Oe sent messengers to offer to the giant Buddha of Houkouji a kesa, a golden begging-bowl, an ivory tusk, aloeswood, sandalwood, and various objects of value, but despite any spiritual merit that may have accrued, it didn't seem to work.  Naka no Oe's illness continued to grow more serious.  He would continue to struggle for another two months, until, on the 3rd day of the twelfth month, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, sovereign of Yamato, passed away. For all that we should be careful to avoid the “Great Man” theory of history, it is nonetheless hard to deny that Naka no Oe had an incredible impact on the country in his days.  From start to finish, while one could argue that many of the reforms were simply a matter of time as the archipelago absorbed more and more ideas from across the straits, Naka no Oe found himself in the middle of those reforms.  The Yamato State would never be the same, and he oversaw the birth of the Ritsuryo state, a new state nominally based on laws and rules, rather than just tradition.  It may not be entirely clear, but he also helped inculcate a new sense of the power of the sovereign and of the state, introducing new cultural imaginaries.  Yamato's reach wasn't just vague boasting, but by instituting the bureaucratic state they were able to actually expand the reach of the court farther than any time before. And through those changes, Naka no Oe had, in one way or another, been standing at the tiller.  Now, he was gone, as were many of his co-conspirators in this national project.  Which leaves us wondering:  What comes next? Well, we'll get to that, but not right now.  For now, let us close this episode with Naka no Oe's own end.   Next episode, we can get into the power struggles that followed, culuminating in an incident known as the Jinshin no Ran:  The Jinshin war. 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.  

This episode we are looking at the early years of the official reign of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tenno, including the building of a brand new capital on the shores of Lake Biwa. For more information, see: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-126 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 126:  New Beginnings The local farmers couldn't help but talk.  There was so much construction, but it wasn't entirely clear what was being built.  The land between the mountains and the lake had been neatly groomed fields, but now that the government workmen had moved in, all of those fields were being cleared.  This new construction was much larger than anything that people had seen before.  Rocks were coming in from far flung quarries, and local kilns were being set up to create tiles, while woodcutters were sent into the forests to bring logs to the site. There were various stories about what was going on—a new provincial government office, or perhaps a new temple, but perhaps the most outlandish was that this was going to be some kind of royal palace.  The sovereign himself was taking in interest in this little slice of Afumi, and he was going to abandon the Home Territories of Yamato and bring his entire court to the shores of Lake Biwa. What a far-fetched story!  …Wasn't it? Last episode we recapped a lot of the history of Prince Naka no Oe and how he had come to this point: the Isshi Incident, the Taika reforms, as well as the reigns of his uncle, Prince Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, and his mother, Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou.  With Takara Hime's death, Naka no Oe was now – finally, as he might have thought -- running things officially.  He had prosecuted the war in Baekje, and with that loss, he had turned his focus back to the archipelago.  He now had refugees to settle, and defenses to set up.  And then there were the embassies that would be coming, in an apparent attempt to normalize relations post-conflict.  That could only go so far, however, given that Tang and Silla had simply turned their war efforts against Goguryeo.  So one imagines that any diplomatic discussions were held with the understanding that the international order was still in flux. And so we arrive in the 8th month of 665, as some of the first defensive castles were being erected.  That same month, Tamna—the kingdom on the modern island of Jeju—sent ambassadors to the Yamato court.  The diplomatic ties between Yamato and Tamna were a relatively recent occurrence, but with Baekje gone, one wonders if Yamato wasn't feeling out a new alliance on the continent.  That said, Tamna does not appear to have been a major player on the international stage.    They had been a tributary of Baekje, and may have even been one of the last holdouts of the proto-Japonic language for a long time.  Indeed, a 15th century Joseon history records a foundation myth of Tamna that emphasizes close early ties with the Japanese archipelago. The following month saw another visit by Tang ambassadors, only a year after Guo Wucong had come to the court.  Guo Wucong had been wined and dined, and things seem to have gone well, as this time he returned, but he wasn't the one leading the embassy this time.  That honor went to Liu Degao, sub-prefect of Yizhou, among his many titles.  Yizhou is the same location where the previous missions from Yamato to the Tang court had made landfall.  Presumably, Liu Degao would have had experience with the embassies that passed through Yizhou, so he seems a logical choice to be sent over to the archipelago. This seems like an escalation, with a more titled ambassador leading the party. It is possible that the Tang were trying to not only reset their relationship with Yamato, but also attempt to woo them to their side.  The Tang likely knew that if they defeated Goguryeo, then they would have another problem to work out:  The alliance with Silla.  At the moment both Tang and Silla were in a partnership of convenience, but the Tang empire didn't get where it was by just giving up territory. And Silla was, itself, ambitious.  It would be in the Tang dynasty's best interest to have Yamato on its side in case Silla became a problem.  At the very least, the Tang court could have just been trying to make sure that Yamato would stay out of any continental entanglements, such as by supporting Goguryeo. Within the Yamato court, it is unclear which way, exactly, they were leaning at this point.  The court was clearly building defensive positions—fortresses and more.  At the same time, there were likely those who welcomed any return to stable relations with the Tang.  After all, there were still Wa in Chang'an and elsewhere, and there was still a hunger in the archipelago for the books and other goods that the Silk Road could provide.  On the other hand, they may have felt more at home with Goguryeo, or even Silla.  The bonds with the Korean peninsula were older and likely stronger.  And, as long as the Tang Empire was busy with other states, then perhaps they would be too preoccupied to attack Yamato. Liu Degao and his entourage had arrived at Tsushima on the 28th day of the 7th month.  They would have been put up there for a time, and entertained.  If this embassy followed later conventions, they would have likely pulled into a harbor, like the one near Kofunakoshi.  This is a narrow spot between the two parts of Tsushima, where we know that in the 9th century, ships from the Tang empire would stop, register goods and people, and likely have them transferred to Japanese ships.  All of the checking and cataloging would happen  at nearby Bairinji temple. Even if they didn't have to transport everything to another ship, it is likely that they would held at Tsushima for a while for security purposes.  Tsushima was ideal, both for its distance, halfway between the Korean peninsula and the Japanese archipelago, but also for its shape, with numerous places that ships could sit at anchor in secluded bays away from any weather or rough seas that could otherwise cause problems. We don't know exactly what the Tang embassy's stay was like, but we know that they were at Tsushima for roughly two months, which was probably the time it took to get a message to the Yamato court and back.  We know how long it was because we learn that it is on the 20th day of the 9th month that they finally made landfall at Tsukushi, or Kyushu, and two days later they forwarded a letter-case to the Yamato court. Two months later, we know they were at the court, as there was a banquet held for Liu Degao on the 13th day of the 11th month, and then a month after that, Liu Degao and the rest of the mission were presented gifts, after which they left and returned to the Tang court.  We are also told that Mori no Kimi no Ohoishi, along with Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwashiki and Kimi no Kishi no Harima all went to the Tang court that same month, no doubt traveling with Degao and Wucong. On the first month of the following year, Neungnu of Goguryeo was sent to the Yamato court to offer tribute.  On the same day, the 11th day of the first month, Tamna also sent someone identified as Prince Siyeo to offer presents.  Immediately, I'm wondering about the way that this is presented.  Both of these states – Goguryeo and Tamna - were allies of the former Baekje kingdom.  I have to wonder how the Goguryeo ships made their way—did they come down the western side of the peninsula, through the Bohai sea, and thus past possible Tang patrols between their peninsular and continental territories, or did they head through the East Sea, aka the Japan Sea, where they would have to pass by the coast of Silla, whom they were also not on great terms with?  The fact that both missions are mentioned at the same time suggests that maybe the Goguryeo embassy sailed down to Tamna, on Jeju Island, and then the two groups made their way over to Yamato together from there. Other things about this entry to note is that the Chroniclers use different terms for these visits to the Yamato court.  Goguryeo uses a term that Aston translates as “offering tribute” while Tamna uses a different term indicating that they were “offering presents”.  This may be as simple as the difference in the various relationships between the polities, as viewed by the Chroniclers.  After all, there was a long relationship between Yamato and Goguryeo, which was considered one of the three Han, or Samhan.  Whether true or not, I could certainly see the Chroniclers feeling that Goguryeo was in a subordinate relationship with Yamato.  Tamna, on the other hand, was a more recent addition to the Yamato diplomatic sphere.  As such, it would be understandable, to me if the Chroniclers still saw it as a more independent entity. It also may hint at different messages being communicated.  As far as we can tell, Tamna wasn't under direct threat by the Tang empire—though they may have been feeling a little bit of heat, given the fall of Baekje and the Tang empire's new outpost on the peninsula.  Goguryeo, however, was under more direct threat, and had been in conflict with the Tang for years.  On top of that, based on what we can tell, it seems that Yeong Gaesomun, the despot who had been ruling Goguryeo and helping it defend against the Tang, had just passed away.  It may have been that the Goguryeo court was seeking support against Tang and Silla, as they were in a moment of instability, themselves.  As such, “Tribute” might indicate that they were more formally petitioning Yamato for support. Goguryeo envoy Neungnu left about 5 months later, on the 4th day of the 6th month but then another envoy, this time Minister Eulsyang Oemchu, arrived a little more than four months later.  Much like with the Tang, this feels like Goguryeo was upping the ante, sending higher ranking officials to negotiate with Yamato.  That lends some credence to the theory that there was something of a bidding war going on for Yamato's involvement in international affairs.  For Yamato, however, it would seem that getting involved in continental affairs was hardly something they were itching to do.  Instead, they continued their moves to fortify. In local events, we know that on the 11th day of the 10th month of 665, while the Liu Degao delegation was still in Yamato, there was a great “review”, by which they seem to mean a sutra reading, at Uji.  It is unclear just where this was held, as I haven't found reference to any particular temple.  However, it does indicate that there was activity in the area. Uji is probably most popular, today, for its role as a setting in the Tale of Genji.  There indeed numerous reminders there of the Heian period, including the hall of Ujigami Shrine, and the famous Hou-ou-do, or Phoenix Hall, of the Byoudouin. In 1053, Fujiwara Yorimichi inherited the villa from his father, Fujiwara Michinaga, and he converted it into a Pure Land temple.  Michinaga is thought to have been one of the people on whom Murasaki Shikibu based the character of the Shining Prince, Hikaru Genji.  That's all too late for this moment in the Chronicles, of course., but we do have earlier references to Uji as a place, as well as in various names.  It seems to have been part of the territory of the Hata, who controlled much of the area of modern Kyoto and environs.  There is a temple, Houjouin, also known as Hashidera, which claims to date back to the 7th century, and may have been the site of the above-mentioned sutra reading in 665.  According to the Temple's own legend, it was built around 604, when Hata no Kawakatsu built the famous Uji bridge, or Hashi, on the orders of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.  Other sources give the date as 646.  The temple was rebuilt in the 13th century, and as far as I can tell, nothing remains of the original temple, but it is possible that it was the site of this review. The next non-Diplomatic record of the Chronicles is from the 3rd month in 666.  The Crown Prince went to the house of Saheki no Komaro no Muraji, paying a sympathy call as Saheki appears to have passed away after having been gravely ill.  Saheki no Komaro no Muraji was one of those who had helped Naka no Oe in the Isshi Incident.  He had been introduced to the plot by Nakatomi no Kamatari, and then critical in the literal execution at the court.  He later led forces against Furubito no Oe, assuming that “Sahekibe no Komaro” is the same as “Saheki no Muraji no Komaro”.  There is also a relative, possibly his son, Takunaha, who was one of the Yamato court's overseas envoys.  Thus, one can understand that he had some importance to the Royal family, and we can probably assume that he had been involved in much more.  The Crown Prince, we are told, lamented him on account of his loyal service from the very beginning. One of the confusing things in this part of the Chronicle is the term “Crown Prince”.  It doesn't help that the Chroniclers were pulling from different records, and sometimes using anachronistic titles for individuals.  Naka no Oe had been known as the Crown Prince since the time of Takara Hime, whether he actually was or not.  Now he was in charge of the government, but it isn't clear that he had been formally invested as tennou.  More than that, there is mention of an investiture in either 667 or 668, several years after his quote-unquote “reign” had begun.  This makes some sense.  After all, when Takara Hime passed away, there was a foreign war to prosecute, and that probably took a fair bit of resources.  Plus, Naka no Oe had been running things for a while before that, or so we are told.  It would make sense if things just kept on going as they had been, and they held the actual investiture when they got around to it. We also know that he was busy with building projects: not just for the defense of the archipelago, but even a new capital and a new palace.  We'll talk about it a bit more, later, but suffice it to say that he may have been taking his time and gathering everything together. All of this makes the Chronicles themselves somewhat confusing.  They throw around the terms “Crown Prince” and “Sovereign”—well, “Sumera no Mikoto”—almost interchangeably.  Meanwhile, they've also stated that the Crown Prince was Prince Ohoama, Naka no Oe's younger brother. Based on my read of things, I believe we can distinguish between the two by whether or not it specifically calls them out as just “Crown Prince”, or “Crown Prince, younger brother to the sovereign”.  The latter is clearly Prince Ohoama, and the first is most likely Naka no Oe.  After all, in this instance, why would Prince Ohoama be the one so struck by the death of Saheki no Muraji?  Based on the story the Chronicles have told us, wouldn't it make more sense that it was Naka no Oe lamenting the death of one who had helped put him on the throne, rather than sending his brother? So keep that in mind as we go through the narrative.  I'll try to point out whom I believe they are speaking about, at least until we reach the point where Naka no Oe actually is invested. Getting back to the Chronicles, in the 7th month of the year 666, some four months after the illness and death of Saheki no Komaro no Muraji, another disaster struck—this time a natural disaster.  Great floods were reported—how widespread we aren't told.  This is often a problem in a land with many mountains that often gets large rains.  It is especially problematic when much of your agriculture is based on being just at or below the level of the rivers and streams so that it can be flooded on purpose.  We are told that the government remitted the land-taxes and commuted taxes that year, likely as a form of disaster relief to those affected by the flooding. In 666, we are also told a story that actually links this reign to the previous.  We are told that a monk, named Chiyu, gave the sovereign something called a south-pointing chariot.  I'll talk about what this was in another episode.  What's important here is to note that there was a previous entry in the era attributed to Saimei Tennou, aka Takara Hime, where a monk named Chiyu, or something similar, using different characters, also created a south-pointing chariot.  Likewise, we are later told in this reign how Naka no Oe installed a clepsydra, a water clock.  This is also mentioned in the previous reign.  It is possible that these reference completely different accounts.  Or they could be connected in some way. The south-pointing chariot is probably not something that we'll have evidence of, as it would have been mobile and probably deteriorated over time.  However, the water clock would have been a fixed installation with some clear architectural remnants, and indeed we think we know where at least one was built in Asuka.  Both of the water clock entries say that it was the “first” time, so make of that what you will. Also in 666, we see that some 2000 people of Baekje were settled in the East, possibly meaning the Kanto region, though this could be anywhere between modern Nagoya out to the far eastern edge of Honshu.  They were maintained at the government expense for three years, after which they were expected to have built new lives for themselves. In later periods, there is much to be said about “Men of the East”.  There are those that point to this region as being the origin point of many of the warrior traditions that would arise and become the military samurai.  Some of the weapons and fighting styles, especially some of the horse-riding archery seems to point to continental influences that made their way to the Kanto region and beyond.  One has to consider just how much did they bring with them and how did it grow, often beyond the view of the court and the court chronicles.  For now, though, it seems to have largely been a form of a refugee program, since the Baekje no longer had a kingdom to return to. Finally, we have an omen.  In the winter of 666, the rats of the capital, in Asuka, headed north to Afumi.  As with previous entries about rats departing a capital for a direction, this is again meant as an omen.  It probably didn't happen.  But it does foreshadow an account in the following year, when, on the 19th day of the 3rd month, the capital, surprise-surprise, moved to Afumi. And perhaps I shouldn't be flippant.  It was a surprise to have the capital move to Afumi.  There are accounts of legendary sovereigns that had their palace outside of the Nara Basin or Kawachi area, but at this point Yamato had been really building up those areas.  So why would they suddenly relocate to Afumi, of all places? Well, probably because of the same thing that had been driving the rest of their large-scale building projects during this period—from the Water Castle protecting the Dazai to the various Baekje style fortresses from Tsushima down to the Nara Basin.  Afumi was a naturally defensive position.  And in such an uncertain time, having a well-defended capital must have seen like a very good idea.  In fact, though they didn't formally change the capital until the 3rd month of 667, they probably had started work on it as soon as they got back from the loss at Hakusukinoe. As far as locations go, it wasn't necessarily a bad choice.  There were still routes to the port at Naniwa, which could still house various delegations when they arrived.  There were also routes to the east, leading to Owari and the rest of central and eastern Honshu, as well as mountain passes to get to the Japan Sea.  The area where the new palace was located was in the district of Ohotsu.  Ohotsu means something like “Big Port” and I don't know if it was already a major port along the banks of Lake Biwa or if that was a name that came from having the capital there.  Ohotsu was a long-inhabited area, even well before the 660's, and an important site for trade.  In the southern end of modern Ohotsu city is Ishiyama-dera, the stone mountain temple, it which was built in the 8th century, but in front of the temple are the remains of the largest freshwater shellmound in Asia.  As you may recall from some of our earliest episodes talking about the prehistoric period in the Japanese archipelago, shell mounds are typically evidence of ancient settlements, remnants of dump sites where they could throw their detritus.  This probably included a lot more than just shells, but shells, bones, and sometimes things like pottery sherds, would remain.  And while much of the wood and waste of the period would have disintegrated over time, shells do not.    These shell mounds accordingly provide important insight into the lives of people back in that day, and the size can also help us understand things about how large a settlement might have been or how long it was there.  The sheer size of the shellmound at Ishiyama-dera likely indicates that the region had been settled for many centuries prior to the 600's. In addition to the shellmound, and more closely related to the current times we are discussing, is evidence of a rock quarry found at the temple site and showing evidence of techniques familiar to people of the 6th to 8th centuries. You see, Ishiyama is a source of a particular white stone called wollastonite.  The quarry sits below the main hall of the temple, and so it probably would not have been quarried after the hall was built, which was in the 700s, so the site is believed to have been active before that.  From the composition of the stone and the markings on the remnants, we can see similarities to stones in the base of one of the buildings at Kawaradera, in Asuka, which we've talked about before and which was one of the pre-eminent temples of its day.  So this demonstrates a link between the region and the court even before the construction of the new Ohotsu palace. Speaking of the palace, we've known of its exact position since 1974,  when archeologists found evidence of the foundation of a large complex in a residential district in Nishikori.  While some initially suggested it was an old temple, further evidence makes it pretty clear that it was the dairi, or inner sanctum, of a palace.  This is very much in the same mould as the Toyosaki Palace in Naniwa and the various palaces in Asuka from around the same period.  In front of the dairi would have been the actual government buildings, but that area has not been excavated. That brings up another question: was this a full-on capital city, Ohotsu-kyo, or just a palace, the Ohotsu-no-miya?  So far we have only found the palace, But since the area is fairly built up, it may take time to find more, assuming it hasn't been destroyed by previous urban development in the area.  There are some hints that there was more: while there were already at a couple of temples that had been built by the mid-7th century, we see several temples built in ways that not only borrow features from important Asuka temples, like the layout of Kawaradera, but they also match the alignment of the Otsu palace ruins, hinting that they were built at the same time.  For example, there is are the ruins of an abandoned temple in Shiga-Minami – actually once thought to have been the Otsu palace. There was also Soufukuji, a temple in the mountains nearby meant to protect the Northwest from malign influences, likely based on continental geomantic concepts, part of what we might today think of as Feng Shui. This same kind of protective temple building is what we see in later capital cities. Of course, we know that this would not be a permanent capital for the nation of Yamato or of Japan—we aren't that far off from the Nara period, and then, a century later, the capital at Heian-kyo.  But that couldn't have been known at the time.  There was no way to know how long tensions with the continent would last, and it was just as possible that people at the time expected this to be a permanent move.  Its preeminence lasted, too: we do have evidence that even centuries later, the region was still known as an ancient “capital”. No matter what Naka no Oe's intentions were in moving the capital to Afumi, however, it didn't exactly go over well.  It was apparently quite unpopular—so unpopular that the move was mocked in song of the time.  That said, Naka no Oe's mind was made up, and the move took place regardless.     Before moving the capital, however, there was still business to attend to.  Takara Hime and Princess Hashibito were reinterred together in the Misasagi on Wochi Hill.  We are told that men of Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla all mourned along the processional route.  The Crown Prince—I'm assuming Naka no Oe, this time given his connection to both of these women—apparently had started the work on a stone sarcophagus.  By this was probably meant the actual stone vault of the tomb, rather than just the coffin, which was also likely made of stone.  This was in Kuramaki, in Takatori, in the Takaichi District of the Nara Basin. Three months after the move to the new capital, the district of Kadono, in the west of modern Kyoto, presented to the sovereign a white swallow—an omen of some sort. The following month, on the 11th day of the 7th month, Tamna sent another embassy, led by a Minister known as Cheonma, with presents for Yamato.  This may have been the first envoy to actually visit the new Ohotsu capital, but certainly not the last. Cheonma stuck around for a few months.  In the intercalary 11th month, which is to say the extra 11th month of 667, inserted to keep the lunar and solar calendars at least partially aligned, Cheonma and his companions were presented with brocade and other cloth, as well as axes, sickles, and swords, presumably to take home to Tamna. While Cheonma was at the court, there was apparently another bit of diplomatic ping-pong going on.  Liu Jenyuan, the Tang general in charge of Baekje, sent Szema Facong and others to escort Sakahibe no Iwashiki and those with him to the Dazai in Tsukushi.  They didn't stay long, though—we are told they arrived on the 9th day of the 11th month and left only 4 days later, on the 13th day of the same.  When they left, however, they, themselves, were given escorts of Yuki no Muraji no Hakatoko—the same one whose memoirs we relied on for that previous trip to the Tang court—as well as Kaso no Omi no Moroshi.  So I guess they were escorting the escorts?  At what point does it end?  Hakatoko and others made it back about three months later, on the 23rd day of the first month of 668, and reported on their own escort mission.  That suggests that they didn't escort them that far.  They may have just seen them back to the Korean peninsula and that was it. Hakatoko's escort mission did mean that he missed a rather important event—the Crown Prince assuming the dignity.  That is to say, Naka no Oe finally took the title of sovereign.  A note in the text suggests that there were other sources that said it was the third month of the previous year—the same time that the Otsu capital was built.  Four days later they held a banquet in the palace for all of the court ministers. A little over a month later, his wife, Yamato bime, was appointed queen.  We are then told of his other wives and consorts. To be clear, Naka no Oe had been collecting consorts for ages.  So let's talk about a few of them. To start with there was Yamatobime, the Yamato Princess, daughter of none other than Naka no Oe's half-brother, Prince Furubito no Oe, his former rival to the throne. Then there was Wochi no Iratsume, aka Princess Miyatsuko, the daughter of Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa Maro.  She had a son, Prince Takeru, who died in 651 at the age of 8.  That suggests that she and Naka no Oe had been together since at least 643, two years before the Isshi Incident.  Another one of her daughters, Princess Uno, would go on to marry Naka no Oe's younger brother, Prince Ohoama, the new Crown Prince. Wochi no Iratsume seems to have died of grief in 649, after her father and much of her family were destroyed on the orders of her husband, Naka no Oe.  We are told that Naka no Oe also married Wochi no Iratsume's younger sister as well, Mehi no Iratsume.  She had two daughters, Princess Minabe and Princess Abe.  At this point Abe was only about 7 or 8 years old, herself, but she would eventually be married to Prince Kusakabe, the son of Prince Ohoama and Princess Uno, whom we just mentioned. Naka no Oe also had two other consorts.  Tachibana no Iratsume was the daughter of Abe no Kurahashi no Maro no Oho-omi—he was the first Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, at the start of the Taika reforms, immediately following the Isshi Incident.  And then there was Hitachi no Iratsume, the daughter of Soga no Akaye. Soga no Akaye is an interesting figure.  You may recall the name from Episode 118.  Soga no Akaye was the acting minister in charge in Yamato when Prince Arima tried to start up a revolt against Takara Hime.  It was in his house where Prince Arima laid out his plan, but a broken armrest convinced Soga no Akaye to turn against the conspirators and turn them in.  And so it is interesting to hear that his daughter was married to Naka no Oe. We are also told of four “palace women” that Naka no Oe is said to have had children with.  The implication seems to be that these were women at the palace but they were not formally recognized with the same status as that of the formal consorts and, of course, the queen, his primary wife.  This fits in with at least one theory I've seen that Naka no Oe was something of a ladies' man.  It seems he got around even more than Murasaki Shikibu's fictional “Shining Prince”, Hikaru Genji.  We are told that there were at least 14 children among the nine official wives—and one has to consider that they were unlikely to record many of the women whom he may have slept with that he didn't also have children with.  And there is a theory that one of those not mentioned, may have been his own sister, full blooded sister.  Specifically, his sister Princess Hashibito, who was married to none other than Naka no Oe's uncle, Prince Karu, aka Jomei Tennou. To be clear:  we have no clear evidence that they were anything other than close siblings, but as you may recall how we mentioned back in Episode 114 that there was something that caused a falling out between Prince Karu and Naka no Oe, such that Naka no Oe disobeyed the sovereign's direct order in moving himself and the royal family back to Asuka.  That meant Naka no Oe, his wives, his mother, AND his sister, Princess—now Queen—Hashibito.  So, yeah, he absconded with Prince Karu's wife who was Naka no Oe's full-blooded sister.  And, as we've noted before, ancient Yamato's concept of incest was pretty narrow.  It was only if you had the same mother that you were considered full siblings—even if the father were someone else.  I suspect that this is related to the matrilineal nature of succession as well, which is why it was so important to insist that the ancient sovereigns had a direct lineal connection to the royal line through their mother as much as through their father. So if Naka no Oe and his sister were having any kind of relationship that was considered wrong or scandalous, then that could also help explain why he didn't take the throne sooner, and why it passed over to his mother.  But now, both Takara Hime and Hashibito were quite literally dead and buried, and Naka no Oe had ascended to the throne. Of the so-called “Palace Women” that  are listed as being likewise married to—or at least in a relationship with—Naka no Oe, I'd like to focus on one:  Iga no Uneme no Yakako.  For one, she is specifically mentioned as an uneme—one of the women sent to the court specifically to serve in the palace.  But her parentage isn't further illuminated other than the name “Iga” which is probably a locative, possibly referring to the area of Iga. This is also interesting because we are also told that she gave birth to a son named Prince Iga, also known as Prince Ohotomo.  Despite his mother's apparently unremarkable status, Prince Ohotomo seems to have been quite the apple of his father's eye.  He was born in 648, so in 668 he was about 20 years old, meaning that around this time he was probably just coming into his own at court.  He was married to his cousin, Princess Touchi, daughter of his uncle, Crown Prince Ohoama.  He was also married to Mimotoji, who appears to have been a daughter of Nakatomi no Kamatari, meaning that he was pretty well connected. But we'll get into that in a future episode.  For now, I think we'll leave it here: with the move of the capital to Ohotsu and the formal ascension of Naka no Oe to the throne. We'll talk about what that might mean in the future.  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.

Following the death of Takara Hime, and the war on the Korean peninsula, Naka no Ōe was taking hold--or perhaps keeping hold--of the reins of government.  He wasn't finished with his changes to the government.  He also had a new threat--the Tang Empire.  They had destroyed Yamato's ally, Baekje, and defeated the Yamato forces on the peninsula.  While the Tang then turned their attention to Goguryeo, Yamato could easily be next.  The Tang had a foothold on the Korean peninsula, so they had a place to gather and launch a fleet, should they wish to bring Yamato into their empire. For more, especially to follow along with some of the names in this episode, check out our blogpost at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-125     Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 125: The Sovereign of Heavenly Wisdom The people of Baekje looked around at the strange and unfamiliar land.  They had fled a wartorn country, and they were happy to be alive, but refugee status was hardly a walk in the park.  Fortunately, they still knew how to farm the land, even if their homeland was hundreds of miles away, across the sea, and occupied by hostile forces.  Here, at least, was a land where they could make a home for themselves. Some of them had to wonder whether this was really permanent.  Was their situation just temporary until their kingdom was restored?  Or were they truly the last people of Baekje, and what would that mean? Either way, it would mean nothing if they didn't work the land and provide for their families.  And so, as with displaced people everywhere, they made the best of the situation.  They had been given land to work, and that was more than they could have asked for.  They might never return to Baekje, but perhaps they could keep a little of it alive for themselves and their descendants. Greetings, everyone, and welcome back.  Last episode we talked about the downfall of Baekje and the defeat of the Yamato forces at the battle of Hakusukinoe, also known as the Battle of Baekgang, in 663.  And yet, something else happened as well: the sovereign, Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, died as the Yamato forces were setting out.  Immediately Prince Naka no Oe took the reins of government.  He would be known to later generations as Tenji Tennou, with Tenji meaning something like “Heavenly Wisdom”. Now Prince Naka no Oe has been in the forefront of many of our episodes so far, so I'd like to start this episode out with a recap of what we've heard about him so far, as all of this is important to remind ourselves of the complex political situation.  I'm going to be dropping – and recapping – a lot of names, but I'll have many of the key individuals listed on the podcast website for folks who want to follow along.  I would note that this episode is going to be a summary, with some extrapolation by me regarding what was actually happening.  Just remember that history, as we've seen time and again, is often more messy and chaotic than we like, and people are more complex than just being purely good or evil.  People rarely make their way to the top of any social hierarchy purely through their good deeds.  To start with, let's go back to before the year 645, when Naka no Oe instigated a coup against Soga no Iruka and Soga no Emishi.  In the Isshi Incident, covered in Episode 106, Naka no Oe had Soga no Iruka murdered in court, in front of his mother, Takara Hime, when she sat on the throne the first time.  And yet, though he could have taken the throne when she abdicated in apparent shock, he didn't.  Instead, he took the role of “Crown Prince”, but this wasn't him just sitting back.  In fact, evidence suggests that he used that position to keep a strong hand on the tiller of the ship of state. Prior to the Isshi Incident of 645, the rule of the Yamato sovereign had been eroded by noble court families.  These families, originally set up to serve the court and its administration, had come to dominate the political structures of the court.  The main branch of the Soga family, in particular, had found its way to power through a series of astute political marriages and the support of a new, foreign religion:  Buddhism.  Soga no Iname, Emishi's grandfather, had married his daughters to the sovereigns, and thus created closer ties between the Soga and the royal line.  He also helped ensure that the offspring of those marriages would be the ones to take over as future sovereigns.  Soga no Iname, himself took the position of Oho-omi, the Great Omi, or the Great Minister, the head of the other ministerial families.  As Prime Minister, he held great sway over the day-to-day running of the court, and execution of much of the administration.  Much of this was covered in previous episodes, but especially episodes 88, 90, 91, 92, 95, 98, 99, and 103. Soga no Umako, who succeeded his father as Oho-omi, was joined in his effort to administer the government by his grand-nephew, Prince Umayado, also known as Shotoku Taishi, son of Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, and thus grandson of Umako's sister, Kitashi-hime, and the sovereign known as Kimmei Tennou.  Umayado's aunt, sister to Tachibana no Toyohi, was Kashikiya Hime, or Suiko Tennou.  The three of them:  Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and Kashikiya Hime, together oversaw the development of Yamato and the spread of Buddhism.  Buddhism was also controversial at first, but they turned it into another source of ritual power for the state—ritual power that Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and even Kashikiya Hime were able to harvest for their own use. Unfortunately, the Crown Prince, Umayado, died before Kashikiya hime, suddenly leaving open the question of who would take the throne.  Soga no Umako himself, passed away two years before Kashikiya Hime.  When she in turn passed away, there was another struggle for the throne, this time between the descendants of Crown Prince Umayado and Soga no Umako.  Eventually, Soga no Umako's son and heir, Soga no Emishi, made sure that a more pliant sovereign, Prince Tamura, would take the throne, and Prince Umayado's own son, Prince Yamashiro no Oe, was cut out of the succession.  Soga no Emishi, serving as prime minister, effectively ran things much as his father had.  When Tamura diedhis queen, Takara Hime, took the throne, rather than passing it back to Umayado's line—no doubt with Emishi's blessing.  He was careful, however, not to provoke direct action against Yamashiro no Oe, possibly due to the reverence in which Yamashiro's father, Prince Umayado, aka the Buddhist Saint Shotoku Taishi, was held.  Meanwhile, Emishi appears to have been cultivating his grandson by way of Prince Tamura, Furubito no Oe, to eventually succeed to the throne, trying to duplicate what his own father Umako and even grandfather had been able to accomplish. Soga no Emishi's son, Soga no Iruka, was not quite so temperate, however.   Who would have thought that growing up at the top of the social hierarchy might make one feel a bit arrogant and entitled?   When Soga no Emishi was ill, Soga no Iruka took over as Prime Minister, and he didn't just stand back.  He decided that he needed to take out Furubito no Oe's competition, and so he went after Yamashiro no Oe and had him killed. Unfortunately for him, he apparently went too far.  There were already those who were not happy with the Soga family's close hold on power—or perhaps more appropriately, this particular line of the Soga family.  This kind of behavior allowed a group of discontented royals and nobility to gain support. According to the popular story recounted in the Nihon Shoki, the primary seed of resistance started with a game of kickball, or kemari.  Nakatomi no Kamako, aka Nakatomi no Kamatari, was the scion of his house, which was dedicated to the worship of the traditional kami of Yamato.  The Nakatomi were ritualists: in charge of chanting ritual prayers, or norito, during court ceremony.  This meant that their powerbase was directly challenged by the increasing role of Buddhism, one of the Soga patriarchs' key influences on the political system. Kamatari was feeling out the politics of the court, and seemed to be seeking the support of royal family members who could help challenge the powerful Soga ministers.  He found that support in two places.  First, in Prince Karu, brother to Takara Hime, the current sovereign, who had been on the throne ever since her husband, Tamura, had passed away.  And then there was the Prince Katsuraki, better known to us, today, as Prince Naka no Oe.  A game of kemari, where a group of players tried to keep a ball in the air as long as they could, using only their feet, was a chance to get close to the Prince.  When Naka no Oe's shoe flew off in the middle of the match, Kamatari ran over to retrieve it.  As he offered the shoe back to its owner, they got to talking, and one of the most impactful bromances in Yamato history was born. The two ended up studying together.  The unification of the Yellow River and Yangzi basin regions under the Sui and Tang, and the expansion of the Silk Road, had repercussions felt all the way across the straits in Yamato.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari were both avid students and were absorbing all that the continent had to throw at them about philosophy and good governance.  As is so often the case, it seems like idealistic students were the fertile ground for revolutionary new thoughts. There were problems implementing their vision, however.  Although the Nihon Shoki claims that Naka no Oe was the Crown Prince, that honor was probably given to Prince Furubito no Oe, who would have no doubt perpetuated the existing power structures at court.  This is something that the Chroniclers, or perhaps those before them, glossed over and may have even tried to retconned, to help bolster the case that Naka no Oe was actually working for the common good and not just involved in a naked power grab for himself.  There is also the question as to where Yamashiro no Oe had stood in the succession, as he likely had a fair number of supporters. With the destruction of Yamashiro no Oe's family, however, the balance of power shifted.  Although Soga no Emishi had long been an influential member of the court, and not solely because of his role as Prime Minister, Soga no Iruka was relatively new to power.  Yamashiro no Oe's family, in turn, likely had a fair number of supporters, and even neutral parties may have been turned off by Iruka's violent methods to suppress an opponent who had already been defeated politically.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari seem to have seized on this discontent againt the Soga, but they needed at least one other conspirator.  They achieved this by offering a marriage alliance with Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, a lesser member of the Soga household, whose own immediate family had been supporters of Yamashiro no Oe, and so likely had plenty of grievances with his cousins.  Naka no Oe married Ishikawa no Maro's daughter, Wochi no Iratsume, also known as Chinu no Iratsume.  Together, these three—Naka no Oe, Kamatari, and Ishikawa no Maro—brought others into their plot, and finally, in 645, they struck.  Soga no Iruka was killed at court, in front of a shocked Takara Hime and Prince Furubito no Oe.  By the way, this is another thing that suggests to me that Furubito no Oe was the Crown Prince, because why was he front and center at the ceremony, while Naka no Oe was able to skulk around at the edges, tending to things like the guards?  After the assassination at the court – the Isshi Incident -- Naka no Oe gathered forces and went after Soga no Emishi, since they knew they couldn't leave him alive.  With both Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka dead, and Takara Hime having abdicated the throne in shock at what had just occurred, Naka no Oe could have taken the throne for himself.  However, in what was probably a rather astute move on his part, he chose not to.  He recognized that Furubito no Oe's claim to the throne was possibly stronger, and those who had supported the Soga would not doubt push for him to take the throne.  And so, instead, he pushed for his uncle, Prince Karu, to ascend as sovereign.  Karu was Takara Hime's brother, and they could use Confucian logic regarding deference to one's elders to support him.  Plus, Karu's hands weren't directly bloodied by the recent conflict. As for Prince Furubito, he saw the way that the winds were blowing.  To avoid being another casualty, he retired from the world, taking the vows of a Buddhist monk.  However, there were still supporters who were trying to put him on the throne and eventually he would be killed, to avoid being used as a rallying point. Prince Karu, known as Jomei Tennou, ruled for around a decade. During that time, Naka no Oe and his reformers helped to cultivate a new image of the state as a bureaucratic monarchy.  Naka no Oe was designated the Crown Prince, and Nakatomi no Kamatari was made the “Inner Prime Minister”, or Naidaijin.  Ishikawa no Maro was made the minister of the  Right, while Abe no Uchimaro was made Minister of the Left, and they ran much of the bureaucracy, but the Naidaijin was a role more directly attached to the royal household, and likely meant that Kamatari was outside of their jurisdiction, falling into a position directly supporting Naka no Oe.  They instituted Tang style rank systems, and set up divisions of the entire archipelago.  They appointed governors of the various countries, now seen as provinces, and made them report up to various ministers, and eventually the sovereign.  After all, if you were going to manage everything, you needed to first and foremost collect the data.  This period is known as the Taika, or Great Change, period, and the reforms are known as the Taika reforms, discussed in episode 108. They even built a large government complex in the form of the Toyosaki Palace, in Naniwa, though this may have been a bit much—for more, check out episodes 112 and 113. Years into the project, though, things seem to have soured, a bit.  Rumors and slander turned Kamatari against his ally, Ishikawa no Maro, resulting in the death of Ishikawa no Maro and much of his family.  Naka no Oe and other members of the royal family eventually abandoned the Naniwa palace complex, leaving now-Emperor Karu and the government officials there to run the day-to-day administration, while much of the court made its way back to the Asuka area.  Karu would later pass away, but the throne still did not pass to Crown Prince Naka no Oe, despite his title.  Instead, the throne went back to Takara Hime.  This was her second reign, and one of only two split reigns like this that we know of.  The Chroniclers, who were creating posthumous titles for the sovereigns, gave her two names—Kogyoku Tennou for her reign up to 645, and then Saimei Tennou for her second reign starting in 655.   During her latter reign, Naka no Oe continued to wield power as the Crown Prince, and the Chroniclers don't really get into why she came back into power.  It may be that Naka no Oe, in his role as Crown Prince, had more freedom: although the sovereign is purportedly the person in power, that position can also be limiting.  There are specific things which the sovereign is supposed to do, rituals in which they are expected to partake.  In addition, there were restrictions on who was allowed into the inner sanctum of the palace, and thus limits on who could interact with the sovereign, and how.  That meant that any sovereign was reliant on intermediaries to know what was going on in their state and to carry out their orders.  As Crown Prince, Naka no Oe may have had more flexibility to do the things he wanted to do, and he could always leverage the sovereign's authority. When Baekje was destroyed, and Yamato decided to go to their aid, Naka no Oe appears to have had a strong hand in raising forces and directing movements, at least within the archipelago.  When Takara Hime passed away rather suddenly, he accompanied her funerary procession much of the way back, and then returned to Tsukushi—Kyushu—to direct the war.   This is the same thing that Toyotomi Hideyoshi would do when he sent troops to Korea in the late 16th century.  Moving headquarters closer to the continent would reduce the time between messages.  Theoretically he could have moved out to the islands of Iki or Tsushima, but I suspect that there were more amenities at Tsukushi, where they even built a palace for Takara Hime—and later Naka no Oe—to reside in.  It was likely not quite as spectacular as the full-blown city that Hideyoshi developed in a matter of months, but the court could also leverage the facilities previously created for the Dazaifu. The war took time.  This wasn't like some “wars” that were more like specific military actions.  This was a war that dragged on for several years, with different waves of ships going over to transport people and supplies.  Things came to a head in the 9th month of 663, roughly October or November on the Western calendar.  The Baekje resistance was under siege, and their only hope was a fleet of Yamato soldiers coming to their aid.  The Yamato fleet met with a much smaller Tang fleet at the mouth of the Baek River—the Hakusukinoe.  They attempted to break through the Tang blockade, but the Tang had positional advantage and were eventually able to counterattack, destroying the Yamato fleet.  Without their relief, the Baekje resistance fell. The remnants of the Yamato army, along with those Baekje nobles that were with them, headed out, fleeing back to the archipelago.  One presumes that there may have been other Baekje nobles, and their families, who had already made the trip. After the entry describing this rout, on the 24th day of the 9th month of 663, we have a gap in the Chronicles of just a little more than 4 months.  We then pick up with Naka no Oe's government starting to look at internal affairs.  For one thing, we are told that he selected his younger brother, the Royal Prince Ohoama, as Crown Prince, and he made updates to the cap-rank system, changing it from 19 ranks to 26 ranks.  The first six ranks remained the same, but the name “kwa”, or “flower”, for the 7th through 10th ranks was changed to “Kin”, meaning “brocade”.  Furthermore, a “middle” rank was added between the Upper and Lower ranks, further distinguishing each group, and adding 6 extra ranks.  Finally, the initial rank, Risshin, was divided into two:  Daiken and Shouken.  We aren't told why, but it likely meant that they could have more granular distinctions in rank. At the same time that was going on, the court also awarded long swords to the senior members of the great families, and short swords to the senior members of lesser families.  Below that, senior members of the Tomo no Miyatsuko and others were given shields and bows and arrows.  Furthermore, the vassals, or kakibe, and the domestic retainers, or yakabe, were settled, to use Aston's translation.  The kanji used in the text appears to refer to settling a decision or standardizing something, rather than settling as in giving a place to live.  It seems to me to mean that the court was settling servants on families: determining what kind and how many servants that various houses could have based on their position in the hierarchy.  I can't help but notice that all of these gifts were very martial in nature.  That does not mean, of course, that they were necessarily because of the war over Baekje, nor that they were in response to the concern about a possible Tang invasion -- we've seen in the past where swords were gifted to people who had served the court --but it is hard not to connect these gifts with recent worries.  We also know that this year, Naka no Oe turned his focus on building defenses, setting up guards and beacon fires on the islands of Tsushima and Iki.   Should any unknown fleet be seen coming to the archipelago, the fires would alert the forces at Kyushu, so they could send word and prepare a defense. In addition, the court built an impressive defense for Tsukushi—for the Dazai itself, the seat of the Yamato government in Kyushu.  It is called the Mizuki, or Water Castle, though at the time “castle” was more about walls and fortifications than the standalone fortress we tend to think of, today.  Along those lines, the Mizuki was an earthen embankment, roughly 1.2 kilometers long, extending from a natural ridgeline to the west across the Mikasa river.  Archeological evidence shows it had a moat, and this line of fortifications would have been a line of defense for the Dazai, should anyone try to invade.  This construction was so large and impressive that you can still see it, even today.  It stands out on the terrain, and it is even visible from overhead photographs. In the third month of 664, we are told that Prince Syeongwang of Baekje and his people, were given a residence at Naniwa.  In fact, even though Baekje was no longer an independent kingdom, there appear to have been thousands of Baekje people now living in Yamato, unable to return home.  Many of these were former nobles of the Baekje court, which Yamato treated as a foreign extension of its own.  Resettling these people would be a major theme for the Chronicles, but we will also see, as we read further on, how their talents were leveraged for the state. Also in the third month, a star fell in the north—it says “in the north of the capital”, but I suspect that anywhere north, south, east, or west of the capital would have seen the same thing “in the north”.  There was also an earthquake, which isn't given any particular significance, beyond its mention as a natural phenomenon. On the 17th day of the 5th month of 664, so roughly 2 months later, we are told that Liu Jen'yuan, the Tang dynasty's general in Baekje, sent Guo Wucong  to Yamato with a letter and gifts.  We aren't told the contents of the letter, but one imagines that this may have been a rather tense exchange.  Yamato had just been involved in open warfare against Tang forces on the peninsula, and they still weren't sure if the Tang empire would come after them next.  Their only real hope on that front was Goguryeo, since the Tang and Silla were still trying to destroy the Goguryeo kingdom, and that may have kept the Tang forces tied up for a while.  No doubt Guo Wucong would have seen some of the defenses that Yamato was constructing during his visit. Guo Wucong would hang around for about seven and a half months.  He was given permission to take his leave on the 4th day of the 10th month.  Naka no Oe had his friend and Inner Prime Minister, Nakatomi no Kamatari send the Buddhist Priest, Chisho, with presents for Guo Wucong, and he and his officers were granted entertainments  before they left as well. Finally, Guo Wucong and his people returned to the Tang on the 12th day of the 12th month. While the delegation from the Tang was in Yamato, we are told of several tragedies.  First was that Soga no Murajiko no Oho-omi had passed away.  Soga no Murajiko appears to have been another son of Soga no Kuramaro, and thus brother to Soga no Ishikawa no Maro.  Unfortunately, we don't have much more on him in the record. Just a month later, we are told that the “Dowager Queen” Shima passed away.  Aston translates this as the Queen Grandmother, suggesting that she was Naka no Oe's grandmother. We are also told, that in the 10th month of 664, around the time that Guo Wucong was given leave to depart, that Yeon Gaesomun, the Prime Minister—though perhaps more correctly the despotic ruler—of Goguryeo, died.  It is said that he asked his children to remain united, but, well, even if we didn't know how it all turned out, I think we would look somewhat skeptically on any idea that they all did exactly as they were told.  Sure enough, in 667 we are told that Gaesomun's eldest son, Namseng, left the capital city of Pyongyang to tour the provinces, and while he was gone his younger brothers conspired with the nobility, and when he came back they refused to let him back in.  So Namseng ran off to the Tang court and apparently helped them destroy his own country. This is largely corroborated by other stories about Goguryeo, though the dates do seem to be off.  Tang records put Gaesomun's death around 666 CE, which the Samguk Sagi appears to follow, but on his tomb the date would appear to be 665.  Confusion like this was easy enough given the different dates and trying to cross-check across different regnal eras.  Sure, there were some commonalities, but it was very easy to miscount something. One last note from the twelfth month of 664—it seems that there were omens of apparent prosperity that came to the court from the island of Awaji.    First, there was rice that grew up in a farmer's pig trough.  The farmer's name is given as Shinuta no Fumibito no Mu, and Mu gathered this rice and stored it up, and thus, every day his wealth increased.  Then there was the bridal bed of Iwaki no Sukuri no Oho, of Kurimoto district.  They claimed that rice grew up at the head of his brides' mattress during her first night's stay with him.  And this wasn't just some brand new shoot, but overnight it formed an ear, and by the morning it bent down and ripened.  Then, the following night, another ear was formed.  When the bride went out into the courtyard, two keys fell down from heaven, and after she gave them to her husband, Oho, he went on to become a wealthy man. The exact purpose of these stories is unclear, but it seems to be that the Chroniclers are choosing to focus on stories of wealth and growth, which speak to how they wanted this reign as a whole, including the sovereign, to be remembered. However, more tragedy struck the following year, in 665,  when Hashibito, another Dowager Queen – this time the wife of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou - passed away on the 25th day of the 2nd month.  On the first day of the 3rd month, 330 people took Buddhist vows for her sake. We are also told that in the second month the ranks of Baekje were cross-referenced with the ranks of Yamato, and then ranks were given out to some of the Baekje nobles that had come over to Yamato.  Kwisil Chipsa, who was originally ranked “Dalsol” in Baekje, was accorded “Lower Shoukin”.  That was rank 12 of the 26.  In comparison, “Dalsol” seems to have been the 2nd rank of 16 in Baekje.  Along with handing out rank, over 400 Baekje commoners, both men and women, were given residence in the Kanzaki district in Afumi.  This appears to be an area along the Aichi river, running from the Suzuka Mountains, west towards Lake Biwa. The court granted them rice-lands in the following month.  At the same time, several high ranking Baekje nobles were put in charge of building castles at strategic points around the archipelago.  These included one castle in Nagato, as well as the castles of Ohono and Woyogi, in Tsukushi.  Two years later, in 667, we also see the building of Takayasu castle, in Yamato and Yashima castle in Yamada, in Sanuki—modern Kagawa, on Shikoku, facing the Seto Inland Sea passageway.  Kaneda castle in Tsushima was also a Baekje-built one. We mentioned something about these castles last episode.  They were in the Baekje style, and as I said, the term “castle” here is more about the walls, which were largely made of rammed earth ramparts.  This means that you pile up earth and dirt in a layer and then the laborers use tools specifically to tamp it down until it is thick and hard.  Then another layer is piled on top and the process is repeated.  These walls were often placed on mountain tops, and they would follow the terrain, making them places that were easy to defend.  Beyond that, they didn't necessarily have a donjon keep or anything like that—maybe a tower so that one could see a little further, but being at the top of a mountain usually provided all the visual cues that one needed. We know there were other castles made as well.  For example, I mentioned last week about Kinojo, in Okayama, the ancient Kibi area.  Kinojo is not mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, but it clearly existed back then, and matches the general description of a 7th century mountain castle as built in Baekje.  The name means Demon Castle, and there is a story about it that is connected to the local Kibitsu Jinja—the Shrine to Prince Kibi.  According to legend, Kibitsu Hiko, aka Prince Kibitsu or, perhaps more appropriately, the Prince of Kibi, came to the area around the time of the Mimaki Iribiko, so probably about the 3rd century, at the head of a large force.  Kibitsu Hiko had come to defeat the demon, Ura, who lived in the nearby castle, hence Kinojo, and legend says that he freed the people from the demon's rule. As I also mentioned, last week, this particular castle may have ended up in the Momotaro story.  There are those who believe that the story of Momotarou is based on the story of Prince Kibitsu Hiko, and his defeat of the so-called demon, “Ura”.   Certainly the story has grown more fantastical, and less connected to the ancient history of the Kibi region, but it still may have its origin in a much more standard legend of a founding prince of the ancient Kibi kingdom that was later changed into a fairy tale.   More likely, the castle was built by a Baekje nobleman, often thought to be a prince, who settled in the area.  There is the possibility that the demon's name “Ura” came from a mistranslation of his name, or it is also possible that he was unrelated to the story at all.  The Kibitsu Hiko legend may have incorporated the castle, Kinojo, at a later date, once people had forgotten when and why the castle was actually built. It would make sense if Kinojo had been built as part of the defenses for Yamato, as that area overlooks a large part of the fertile plains of Okayama and out beyond Kojima to the Seto Inland Sea -- it is perched over a key overland route from the western edge of Honshu to Yamato, and there would have been several ways to signal boats to put to sea to intercept forces on the water.  . This all suggests to me that Kinojo was probably part of Naka no Oe's castle-building effort, even if it isn't specifically remembered in the Chronicle.  But building castles wasn't enough to bring peace of mind that Yamato would survive a Tang invasion, and it is possibly as a defensive measure that Naka no Oe would go on to do something truly incredible—he would eventually move the capital from Asuka and Naniwa all the way to the shores of Lake Biwa itself, establishing the Ohotsu palace.  This was a truly extreme step that didn't endear Naka no Oe to the court, but it had several advantages.  For one thing, this move pulled the capital further away from the sea routes, meaning that if they were attacked, they had a more defensible position.  Even more so than Yamato, the Afumi region around Lake Biwa is surrounded by mountains, with a few narrow passes that restricted movement in and out. One of these is the famous Sekigahara, which remained a choke point even up to modern times.  The name even means the Field of the Barrier, indicating the barrier and checkpoint that had been set up there in ancient times.  Moving the capital also pulled the court away from some of the previous political centers, which may have been another feature that made it attractive to Naka no Oe.  Many capital moves have been made, at least in part, to get farther away from strong Buddhist temples, and this certainly would have moved things out of the Asuka region, which by now was a hotbed of Buddhist temple activity. But we'll talk about that all more, 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

This episode is a bit long--we are talking about the last elements of the reign of Takara Hime, the fall of Baekje, and the attempt to restore the kingdom, which culminated in the Battle of Hakusukinoe, aka the Battle of Baekgang.  For more, check out our blog at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-124 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 124:  The Battle of Haku-suki-no-e. Echi no Takutsu looked out from where he stood on the deck of his ship.  The horizon seemed to bob up and down, but he knew that was just an illusion caused by the waves.  And upon those waves, hundreds of Yamato ships floated, ready to do battle.  As a veteran of this and other wars, Takutsu was used to surveying flotillas of ships, and yet, none of his years of experience had quite had this kind of impact upon him.  Yamato's ally, Baekje, had fallen in battle to the combined might of the Tang and Silla forces, and now they were assisting a band of rebels who were trying to once again restore their kingdom.  Silla was, of course, an all too common adversary for the Yamato court, but the Tang: now that was another matter. The Tang dynasty had only grown in the four and a half decades since it was founded.  They had destroyed their enemies and continued to expand.  They had defeated the Gokturks and expanded into the heart of Eurasia. Even in cases like Goguryeo, who had so far managed to hold out against their attacks, it was clear that they had an effect.  The Tang dynasty was the superpower of its day, and for whatever airs Yamato may have put on, they were still a backwater in comparison. And yet, on this day, that backwater seemed, by all rights, to have the upper hand.  In response to the destruction of Baekje, Yamato had marshalled all of their forces.  Their boats greatly outnumbered those of their opponents, and if they could defeat the Tang navy, then they could make landfall and connect with the remaining Baekje forces attempting to restore their kingdom.  And so here they were, at the mouth of the Baengma River, also known as the Baekgang, or, in Japanese, the Haku-suki-no-e.  The Tang forces were bottled up, and the greater Yamato forces seemed poised to take them out.   The only problem was that the river mouth narrowed quickly, so that only a few ships could attack at any given time.  Still, with overwhelming numbers, Echi no Takutsu and his fellow soldiers expected that they would still be able to overcome their enemies and place their allies back in control of their territory. With confidence in their victory, the Yamato ships sailed forward, prepared to crush their enemies, and restore Baekje…   Greetings, everyone, and welcome back.  As you may have figured out we are still in the later half of the 7th century.  During the last episode we talked about the embassy to the Tang dynasty court that got delayed—placed under house arrest for a year—because the Tang dynasty was conducting their special military operations over on the Korean peninsula.  That was in the year 660.  Specifically, the Tang were working in conjunction with Silla to destroy the Kingdom of Baekje, and they even returned to the Tang capital with prisoners, including the royal family and many high-ranking nobles.  That they didn't want the ambassadors leaving, and presumably informing Baekje on their way back, would seem to speak to the strong ties between Baekje and Yamato.  After all, several times in the Nihon Shoki we have seen where the Baekje royal line was endangered and a prince that had been living at the Yamato court was brought across the strait with Yamato support to place them back on the throne. This episode, we are going to look a little closer at what happened on the peninsula and what happened when news of the event reached the Yamato court.  This would culminate in one of the most famous naval battles in east Asia—certainly one of the most famous in Japanese history.  It is recorded in records from various sides, so unlike many of the raids on Silla, and other conflicts on the peninsula, we have multiple accounts documenting it, and if the Japanese account is to be believed than it may have been among the largest naval conflicts in the world at that time. So let me take you through what the Chronicles have to say up until the battle and then we can talk about what happened and a little bit about what it would mean for Yamato in the years to come. We'll start a bit before the conflict, while Baekje was still going strong.  The Chronicles are filled with portents and omens, and of course, they already knew what had happened.  Still, let's talk about some of what they mentioned leading up to the battle, as well as some of the remaining accounts demonstrating the cross-strait exchanges. We'll start in 655, the year after Takara Hime had assumed the throne, being given the name Saimei Tennou by the Chroniclers.  On the first day of the 5th month we are told that a “man of Tang” was seen riding a dragon in the sky.  He is described as wearing a broad hat of blue—or green—oiled cloth.  He rode fast from the peak of Mt. Katsuraki and disappeared on Mt. Ikoma.  At noon he galloped over the pines of Sumiyoshi and disappeared into the west. This is obviously a fantastical story, but let's talk about what we can.  It is hard not to see in this some of the importance that the Tang dynasty would play in this reign, especially given the fact that this occurred in the first year after Takara hime had ascended the throne.  It would seem to have been meant here as an omen.  I have not seen specific comments about this, though I'm sure someone has looked into it.  But for me, I am struck by the fact this person was, first and foremost, identifiable as Tang, likely meaning because of his clothing.  And he was riding a dragon.  Dragons were known in Japan, but not quite as popular in folklore as they are shown to be on the mainland.  The Dragon was the imperial symbol of the Tang and other dynasties.  Japan had its own stories of dragon kings and other such things, but in this case I can't imagine that the connection with the imperial throne would be ignored. The hat is also interesting.  The color is listed as “blue” though Aston translates this as “green”.  The term “aoi” was used for any color on the spectrum from blue to green.  In fact, it is still the case that the “green” light on a Japanese traffic signal is still referred to as “blue”.  There were more specific colors, but the word “midori” would have been more like a specific word, like “teal”, “cerulean”, or “aquamarine”, rather than a core color like we would use blue, yellow, or, in this case, green.  The fact that it was made of oiled stuff suggests to me that it was waterproofed.  It is noted specifically with the character for “kasa”, which typically refers to a wide brimmed hat used to keep the rain off. I suspect that in this case it was the kind of hat that we often see on Tang dynasty figurines of riders.  They often have a tall, wide-brimmed hat, often with drape of sheer fabric around the edge.  This kind of hat would eventually be popular in Japan amongst traveling noblewomen, as it helped keep them out of the sun and away from the bugs and, well, it also acted as a barrier between the them and the rest of the world.  The versions seen on the Tang figurines are usually somewhat short, probably just enough to obscure the face, and may have helped to cut down on glare.  These often aren't obviously oiled, but that certainly could have been the case, and that may have been another method of protecting travelers from anything that nature could throw at them. It does seem a very particular image. The course of the rider is somewhat interesting.  From Katsuraki, on the southwestern edge of the Nara basin, north to Mt. Ikoma.  Then west to Sumiyoshi and off to the far west—in other words, back to the Tang dynasty.  Sumiyoshi is also of particular interest. The pines of Sumiyoshi are a particular poetic trope, or utamakura.  They help to conjure famous imagery of a place, and so it is hardly surprising that they would be found in this context.  In this case I suspect that is the main reason they are mentioned.  However, Sumiyoshi also has its own importance.  Sumiyoshi was once on the seashore, and Sumiyoshi was a common shrine for travelers to pray at for safe travels.  In fact, there are Sumiyoshi shrines across the archipelago that all are tied back to the Sumiyoshi in the modern Ohosaka area, and they often found near the shore as places where travelers could pray for safe passage before they headed off on the sea. And so it would make sense that the rider would head off over Sumiyoshi and to the west, much as the various ambassadors would travel off to the west. There may be more to it, but I suspect that this was either referencing the growing links between Yamato and the Tang, or perhaps simply referring to the various kentoushi—the ambassadors who crossed the seas to the Tang court and brought back so much to the archipelago. The next obvious omen seems to come in 657.  In this case it was a white fox seen in the land of Iwami.  It was mentioned in the same record as when ambassadors Adzumi no Tsuratari and Tsu no Kutsuma came back from the Western Seas via Baekje.  It isn't clear that the two are connected, though.  Perhaps there is something I'm missing.  It is notable that this seems to be the only mention of Iwami that I could find, at least doing a quick search for the characters in the electronic version of the text.  Iwami is the land to the west of Izumo, on the western end of modern Shimane prefecture, and the western end of the San'in-do, along the northern edge of western Honshu.  It is a mountainous region on the edge of the Japan Sea, the Nihonkai. We've talked about many of the other accounts after that, until the following year, 658.  We have a note about a south-pointing chariot, which we'll discuss in a later episode, but that was clearly another connection to continental technologies.  After that we have an account from Izumo.  Huge numbers of dead fish were washing ashore, up to three feet, or roughly a meter, deep.  The fish were apparently the size of a pufferfish, with beaks like a sparrow and thorny scales, several inches long.  I wonder if, by the description, they could be referring to triggerfish or parrotfish, which are found in the Japan Sea.  Fish kills, or mass die-offs, are unfortunate events that occasionally happen for a variety of reasons.  The most common is actually asphyxiation—algae blooms or other such events that eat up the oxygen, causing fish to die off in an area.  Fish kills might also happen because of disease, undersea quakes, and other factors.  Of course, to anyone in Izumo, this would have been a terribly random event.  I can't tell whether or not it was an omen, but it certainly could have been.  If so, I doubt it would have been a very good one. The strange fish that were brought up were called “sparrow fish” by the locals.  They believed they were sparrows that had gone to the ocean and turned into fish. Immediately after that, in the Chronicle, we get a somewhat odd entry in that it seems out of place.  We are told that Baekje had sent to Japan requesting aid.  Tang and Silla had teamed up and captured King Wicha, his queen, and the heir to the throne.  It is probably notable that this is written as “one book says”.  Also, recall that dates were still somewhat problematic at this time.  They were based on the regnal years of the monarch or the dates according to the sexagesimal cycle, either of which could have been off, particularly at this time, in different sources.  I suspect that the fact that they mention it as “one book says” indicates that even the compilers of the Nihon Shoki weren't quite sure that this was in the right spot, but it was an account of what did eventually happen—just not until two years later.  This position is bolstered by the fact that the next account talks about how Azumi no Muarji no Tsuratari had returned from what was apparently another trip to the Western Seas and Baekje, just a year after the previous.  Again, this could be the same expedition, with accounts misplacing the dates, or with dates according to when he left and others when he arrived back.  Still, it brings us yet another omen. Apparently, around this point, Baekje had been successful against Silla.  This is a good reminder that Baekje was not exactly an innocent bystander in everything that had happened.  King Wicha was rather famous in his own day, seen as a paragon of courage, largely because he was taking the fight to Silla, often allying with Goguryeo to block Silla from their access to the Tang and others.  Silla, who had been adopting Tang culture and style, and even claimed some distant descent from ethnic Han immigrants during the time of the Han commandries on the peninsula, were still able to forge close ties with the Tang, who seemed to preference them over Baekje and Goguryeo.  This may have been part of the general diplomatic game of the Middle Kingdom going back to the Han times, where they would often look to ally with those states beyond the immediate border states, so that those on their immediate border would have to defend themselves on two fronts.  This was likely more aimed at Goguryeo than Baekje, at least initially, but the alliance meant that Baekje, whom the Tang regularly chastised for their actions against Silla, was also in the crosshairs. However, up through 658, it seems Baekje's actions were largely successful.  Both the Baekje and Silla annals mention attacks by Baekje against the country of Silla in the following year, which otherwise correlate with the record in the Nihon Shoki.  Here we should remember that the author of the Samguk Sagi, which preserved these records, was writing centuries later, and had a clear pro-Silla bias.  There are several years missing from the Baekje annals at this time, but the idea that Baekje was attacking Silla is hardly controversial.  In the Silla Annals, in 659,  we also get word that Silla sent envoys to the Tang court protesting Baekje's aggression and asking the Tang court for aid.  Aid that would soon come, unbeknownst to others—even Silla wasn't quite sure until they showed up. And this is likely why the Nihon Shoki records a strange incident in Baekje, where a horse, of its own accord, started circling the Golden Hall of a Buddhist temple in the Baekje capital, continuing day and night, and stopping only to graze.  In some regions, walking around a sacred temple or stupa was considered a particular form of prayer, and perhaps the horse knew something and was trying to make merit.  In the text we are told explicitly what this meant:  the downfall of Baekje was nigh, and it would fall in the coming year, 660.  In a similar fashion, the Baekje annals, and the Samguk Yusa, likely pulling from the same sources, go through a series of omens, from birds to fish, to various ghosts, all saying that Baekje was about to fall.  The annals at this point paint Wicha as consumed with the material world and debauchery, likely a largely later indictment to add a moral explanation to the events that would soon occur. In Yamato, there were other omens as well.  Things were not entirely well in the Yamato capital.  Remember, this was Takara Hime's second reign, and her son was fully grown, himself, so she was no spring chicken.  On the 13th day of the 7th month of the year 659, she had the ministers expound the Urabon sutra in all the temples in Asuka and had a requital made to the ancestors for 7 generations.  We are also told that in that same year, the Miyatsuko of Izumo was made to repair the Itsuki god's shrine.  I have to wonder if these were to help make merit, or were just regular occurrences, but we are also told that fox bit at the head of a creeper that a man was carrying and ran off with it, and a dog found a dead man's hand and forearm and dropped them at Ifuya shrine.  The chroniclers claim these omens were not about Baekje, but rather about Takara Hime herself—claiming that she was not long for this world. It is good to remember that it is only now that we can look back and see where things were leading.  At the time, nobody really knew what the future held, and business went on as normal.  The omens and portents were all well and good, but they are being interpreted after the fact.  There is no indication that people were telling Takara Hime that her time was about to come.  This is illustrated by the fact that there are plenty of regular accounts in here as well.  We have a few episodes that actually reference the “shiguma”—the polar bear or the brown bear—and Gogureyo.  The first is of Goguryeo merchants—likely part of an embassy—trying to sell a shiguma fur in the local markets for 60 pounds of floss silk, a price that was apparently laughable, as the market commissioner turned them down.  And here I'll digress briefly because this is rather a remarkable entry, even though it seems like almost nothing, because it demonstrates something we rarely see but often suspect.  For all that the ambassadors to various courts were performing their diplomatic functions, they were also there to trade.  This is part of how they funded the journey.  They would bring some goods for the court and the sovereign, of course, and hopefully get as much or more in return.  But they would also trade in the local markets.  This is probably part of what the embassy to the Tang was doing when they made landfall and then stayed put for a month or so.  I suspect they were working with the local government to ship off the tribute, but also availing themselves of the local markets.  You didn't necessarily exchange currency, but you would sell your trade goods and that would likely help fund the embassy for the time they were in the country, at least for anything the host nation didn't provide. It is also interesting that we talk of a market commissioner.  We've mentioned markets before, and their existence is likely more than just a random assortment of shops with goods to sell.  They were overseen by local officials, and they would have been regulated to some extent by the larger state, probably with taxes and other goods making their way up to the government.  I don't know that we have a clear idea of what it looked like until later, and so an entry like this just gives us a little hint at what was going on in the day to day administration of the entire country. Continuing with the shiguma theme, apparently a painter named Komaro—a Japanese name, but he's described as a “Goguryeo” painter, which could mean that he trained in Goguryeo, or came from there and changed his name.  It is also possible, I supposed, that he was simply trained in the Goguryeo style.  Anyway, he was apparently quite successful because he entertained guests from his own uji—his own surname—and so borrowed 70 official shiguma skins for them to sit on.  Apparently this was a garish display that left the guests astonished and ashamed to even be part of the event, so they went away. So sitting on fur rugs was apparently not a thing to do—or perhaps just not that many.  But I would note that he apparently borrowed them from the government—they were “official” after all.  So what was the government doing with them?  They were probably tribute from the Emishi in the north, or perhaps just the result of regular trade.  And Komaro must have had some pull to be able to request them for his own private use.  Unfortunately, I don't have any further details, so we are left to guess at most of the rest. But we do continue on with the Goguryeo theme in the following year, the first month of 660, with envoys from Goguryeo arriving in Tsukushi.  They likely had no idea that while they were in Yamato, big changes were about to take place back on the peninsula.  It would take them four months to get to Naniwa, arriving on the 8th day of the 5th month.  They couldn't have known everything that was happening on the peninsula, behind them. And that's because it was in the third month of tha year that Tang Gaozong commanded Su Dingfang, along with Kim Inmun and Liu Boying, to take 130,000 land and see troops to subdue Baekje.  They landed at Teongmul islands, west of Baekje, and, word having reached their court, the King of Silla sent the renowned general Kim Yusin in charge of a force of 50,000 troops to lend their support.  Kim Yusin was a veteran of fighting between Baekje and Silla, and he had already face the enemy on the battlefield, but now he had the aid of the Tang troops. King Wicha had heard of their advance, and asked his court for advice.  One suggestion was to try to crush the Tang soldiers as soon as they came ashore—force them to stay on their boats and destroy them before they could get on land and organized.  Another suggested that the Tang army, for all its size, was built for speed and a decisive victory.  If Baekje could simply harry them long enough, it would wear them down, and they would have to return.  They could then turn their sights on Silla, an enemy they knew how to deal with. One noble, Heungsu, who had been out of favor in the court, and even exiled at one point, offered his advice—that they should fortify the Baek river and Tanhyeon Pass, so that they could not approach.  It would be a near suicidal task, but brave soldiers could defend those narrow points against larger forces, since they would be forced to engage with fewer forces at a time.  Heungsu was ridiculed, however, and his ideas were abandoned. Instead, they devised a scheme whereby they would let the Tang ships enter the river, until they could only go two abreast, and then they would attack them from the shore and destroy them.  Likewise, at the pass, rather than fortifying it, as suggested, they would wait in ambush until the Tang forces could not maneuver, and they would then destroy them as well.  This seemed like a plan, and it was given to the general Kyebaek to carry out. At first, it looked like it would work.  General Kyebaek took five thousand soldiers to Hwangsan as soon as the heard that the Silla soldiers were advancing through the pass.  They engaged the Silla forces four separate times, defeating Silla each time.  However, every assault took its toll.  The five thousand troops could not prevail against a force 10 times their size, and eventually they were wiped out, along with general Kyebaek.  Without opposition, the Silla forces met up with the Tang, and the two armies joined forces.  They actually were able to use the mountainous terrain, which otherwise would have been used to keep them out, to their own advantage.  Eventually they were able to advance on the capital.  The Baekje forces fought to exhaustion, but they were outmatched by the Tang-Silla alliance.  Eventually, they marched on the city, and King Wicha knew that they would be defeated. Four years before this, an official had spoken up against King Wicha, and had been thrown in prison, where he died, emaciated.  However, before he died he offered advice that if an enemy were ever to come, the army should be deployed to the passes and to the upstream banks of the rivers, and that no enemy should be allowed to pass those points.  Looking at the enemy at his gates, King Wicha regretted that he had not listened to that advice.  He grabbed his son and fled to the northern border of Baekje while Su Tingfang and the combined forces besieged the capital.  He sought refuge at Ungjin fortress, in modern Kongju.  This all happened in the 7th lunar month of the year 660. With King Wicha fled, along with the crown prince, his second son, T'ae, declared himself king and led the defense of the city.  However, several others of King Wicha's sons looked at this and were afraid that it now didn't matter what happened.  If T'ae defended the city, then they would be next on his hit list, as they were clearly his rivals to power, and if the Tang defeated them, well, it didn't look good, either.  So they and their retainers all fled the city as well.  This sparked a mass exodus as other citizens tried to do the same, and T'ae could not stop them.  Eventually, the forces weakened, Su Tingfang took the city and raised the Tang banners.  T'ae opened the gates and pleaded for his life.  When King Wicha heard all of this, he knew there was no escape.  He and his sons surrendered themselves and the fortresses to the Tang-Silla alliance.  He and his sons, and many of his people, were taken captive and taken back to the Tang court, where the Yamato ambassadors saw them being paraded around. Now the king may have been captured, but Baekje was not completely subdued.  A few of the remaining citizens held out hope that they could gather their forces and kick out the Tang and Silla and take back their country.  They knew that, although most of the royal family was captured there was still one more:  Prince Pung.  Prince Pung, as you may recall from previous episodes, was residing in Yamato, a royal hostage—or perhaps more of a restrained guest.  The rebels acknowledged him as their king and sent word to Yamato asking that he come back, along with reinforcements, and retake the kingdom.  In the meantime, they gathered and fought as they could, wearing down the Tang and Silla forces.  The rebels, after all, knew the land, and the invaders were still reliant on their supply lines.  This situation persisted for several years. Back in Yamato, in the 5th month of 660, they still were likely unaware of what had happened on the peninsula.  There was no social media to alert them to the dangers, and it would still be a few months before the Baekje capital actually fell.  They were busy entertaining the envoys from Goguryeo, or preparing 100 raised seats an one hundred kesa, or Buddhist vestments, for a Benevolent King ritual.  They were focused on their wars in the north, with the Mishihase, which they had been successful in Praising Abe no Hirafu for his successful campaign.  There is one record that says that in the 5th month people started carrying weapons around with them for no good reason, because they had heard of the destruction of Baekje, but that hadn't actually happened yet, so this is likely out of place—possibly by a couple of years. There is a note about the destruction of Baekje in the 7th month, but that is from the “Records of the reigns of Japan” or Nihon Seiki, a work that is no longer extant that was apparently written by a Goguryeo priest, who noted Baekje's destruction in his history, but this was probably not exactly information available to Yamato at the time.  And no, I don't want to gloss over the fact that we are given another source that was likely being used by the Chroniclers.  I want to delve into the fact that this was by a Goguryeo priest, known in Japanese as Doken.  I want to talk about how this work pops up throughout the reigns of Saimei, Tenchi, and apparently even in the Fujiwara Kaden.  It seems like he was close to Nakatomi no Kamatari and the Fujiwara house, which probably explains how he had access to the events mentioned and why his work was known.  However, I don't really have time for all of that because we are trying to focus on what was happening with Baekje and what was happening Yamato at the time. And in Yamato it wasn't until the 9th month that word finally arrived via a Buddhist novice named “Kakchyong”, according to Aston.  He carried word of the defeat, but also word that Kwisil Poksin had taken up arms and was leading a rebellion against Tang and Silla control.    The royal city, which some records say had fallen in mere days, was once more under Baekje control, according to the word that reached Yamato.  It does seem that Poksin held it for a time, but they weren't able to set in for any kind of prolonged fight in any one spot.  It seems that the fighting was going back and forth, and the rebels were remaining on the move while fighting actions against the invading forces.  Poksin had apparently captured some of the enemy troops, though, and sent them to Yamato, possibly as tribute and payment for future reinforcements, and possibly to demonstrate their victories. And if that was the case, it seemed to have worked.  Takara Hime agreed to help Baekje.  She agreed to send troops, commanding them to go from a hundred directions and meet up in Sateok—likely meaning that this was an emergency deployment and rather than everyone gathering in Kyushu and heading over together, they were getting there as fast as they could, however they could, to try and come to Baekje's aid.  She also released Prince Pung to return as well, and basically named him the King of Baekje herself.  As for Takara Hime and the main force, they moved first to Naniwa and gathered there.  She was considering going on to Tsukushi and then traveling with the bulk of the navy from there. Omens were also coming in, and it wasn't good.  In the province of Suruga, they built a boat, but apparently, overnight, the bow and stern switched places, which the Chroniclers saw as a bad omen.  And then there were a swarm of insects reported in Shinano as coming from a westerly direction.  Another bad sign, especially given that Tang and Silla were both west of Yamato. Although they started preparing in the 9th month of 660, it took them until the first month of 661 to have the royal ship ready to go.  It is likely that much of what was happening was not just a waiting navy putting to sea, but rather there were emergency build orders to build or repair ships and make them ready for the crossing and eventual attack.  The royal ship made its through the Seto Inland Sea, past Bizen, the nearer part of ancient Kibi, and on to Iyo, on Shikoku.  They seem to have had a few setbacks in their journey, and it wasn't until the 5th month that they reached the Asakura palace, though to be in Chikuzen, in Tsukushi, aka northern Kyushu.  The month before, Poksin had written and asked to wait upon the prince, which I suspect was a polite way of asking when the reinforcements would finally arrive. Unfortunately, at Asakura, disaster struck.  The Chroniclers claim this was because they had cleared sacred trees in order to make room for the palace and the kami were none to pleased.  The palace itself was demolished and several notable people, including the Grand Treasurer, took ill and died.  Not a great start to things.  It was here that they met up with the envoys coming back from Chang'an who no doubt told them about their house arrest and everything else.  On top of this, we are told that in the 6th month Prince Ise, of whom little more is given, died, and then, a little more than a month later, he was followed by the sovereign herself: Takara Hime. I suspect that Prince Ise may have been one of Takara Hime's sons, possibly in line for the throne, otherwise, why make mention of his death.  However, Takara's passing would have no doubt thrown the war plans into disarray.  It is quite likely that she wasn't actually the one doing most of the heavy lifting—in all likely that was her son, Prince Naka no Oe, who was handling a lot of that.  But still, the death of the sovereign just before you head off to war, was not great.  They had to send a funeral procession back to Naniwa and Asuka.  Prince Naka no Oe accompanied it as far as the Iwase Palace, but didn't go all the way back.  As the procession headed for Naniwa, he composed a poem: Longing as I do For a sight of thee Now that I have arrived here, Even thus do I long Desirous of a sight of thee! Prince Naka no Oe had just lost his sovereign and his mother, and he was now fully in charge of the armada headed to try and relieve Baekje.  He would have to continue the plans while Takara Hime's remains headed back to Asuka.  The funeral procession arrived in the 10th month, and her body was put in temporary interment for at Asuka-gahara as 9 days of mourning began.  Her son, however, would continue to mourn from afar.  He put on white clothing—a symbol of purity and associated with funerals and death, at least in Buddhist tradition. He had no time, though.  By the 8th month, Prince Naka no Oe was sending Adzumi no Hirafu no Omi and Kawabe no Momoye no Omi, as generals of the Front Division, while Abe no Hirafu no Omi and Mononobe no Muraji no Kuma took up the mantle of generals of the rear division.  They sent men, along with arms and grain to help relieve the Baekje forces. After sending the initial forces to make way, in the 9th month he conferred a cap of woven stuff on Prince Pung, indicating his high rank in the Yamato court, and gave to him as a wife, the sister of a high ranking court official.  He then sent him off, with the help of Sawi no Muraji no Ajimasa and Hada no Miyatsuko no Takutsu, along with 5,000 troops to escort him back.  They made it to Baekje and were able to meet up with Poksin and their forces. On the Korean peninsula, one of the strategic objectives of the Tang was to create a foothold on the peninsula so that they could finally take out the Kingdom of Goguryeo.  That year was particularly cold, and apparently Tang forces tried to invade Goguryeo again, attacking with siege weapons and other war machines.  The Goguryeo soldiers fought valiantly, but appear to have reached a stalemate. In 662, some of the Yamato material started appearing for Poksin.  It included 100,000 arrows, 500 kin of raw silk, 1000 kin of floss silk, 1000 tan of cloth, 1000 hides of leather, and 3000 koku, or over 15,000 bushels, of seed rice.  The next month, he sent another 300 tan of silk to the king.  The Silk may not make much sense, but it would have likely been a form of currency that they could use to purchase other goods, and it could be used for clothing.  The leather may have even been useful for armor and other accoutrements.   But mostly, this was probably economic aid, outside of the 100,000 arrows.  That same month, the 3rd month of 662, the Tang-Silla alliance was trying to body Goguryeo,  and Goguryeo reached out for aid.  Yamato troops were reportedly sent to help, and the attacks against Goguryeo were blunted.  This really was, now, the Goguryeo-Baekje-Yamato alliance against the Tang-Silla alliance. Poksin and the rebels had holed up in a place called Chuyu, which they were using as their base of operations.  King Pung had arrived, and Poksin was officially made his Minister, but they decided to move out from Chuyu.  It was fine for defense, but the land was not fertile, and they wanted to establish a base where they apparently had more resources, so they found Phisyeong, with rivers to the north and west, and large earthworks to the south and east.  It had fertile land for growing crops, which could then feed the army. However, one of the veterans pointed out the Phisyeong was less than a day's march from their enemies' encampment, and it would be a simple nights march and the army could be at their doorstep.  Chuyu, for all it was not the most appealing place, was much more defensible.  In the end, though, they decided that they would move the capital to Phisyeong. In the 2nd month of the following year, in 663, Silla troops were ravaging southern Baekje, setting fire to the land, possibly trying to starve out any resistance. Sure enough, they moved in close to Phisyeong, and King Pung and his troops realized they were in danger, and moved back to the defensive position of Chuyu.  In the following month, the Yamato and Baekje forces began to take the fight to Silla.  They advanced on Silla territory with 27,000 troops.  They took some cities and fortresses. As all of this was going on, King Pung was beginning to wonder about Poksin and his loyalties.  After all, Poksin had been running things before Pung showed up, and why wouldn't he think he could run things just fine without Pung once this was all over?  He had raised the soldiers, right?  So who would they be loyal to?  Would they be loyal to Pung, who barely knew Baekje, having lived for so long in Yamato.  Or would they be loyal to Poksin, who had rallied them together at the brink of defeat? And so in the 6th month he conferred with his other ministers.  Now it isn't stated in the text, but I suspect that his other ministers were Baekje nobles, and Poksin, well, there really isn't much indication that he had started this out as a man of high station.  They all agreed that Poksin should be dealt with, and so Pung had Poksin taken into custody and beheaded. Now I don't know if it needs to be said, but putting your own top general to death in the middle of a war is not exactly the best thing for morale.  Silla heard about it, and made plans to attack, hoping to catch Baekje offguard.  Baekje heard about it, and they also knew that about 10,000 reinforcements were supposed to be arriving soon from Yamato.  Those were reinforcements that could turn the tide of any fight.  They just needed to make it up the Baek river, known in Japanese as the Haku-suki-no-e. The Silla and Tang troops surrounded the fortress of Chuyu, and Baekje desperately needed the reinforcements from Yamato.  The Tang navy had 170 ships sitting at the mouth of the Baek River, ready to prevent any reinforcements from getting in.  On the 17th day of the 8th month, according to the Nihon Shoki, the first ships of the Yamato fleet arrived, but they could make no headway against the Tang forces.  Based on other records, it appears that the Yamato fleet swelled to more than 400 ships, well over twice the size of the defending Tang navy.  They attacked at least four separate times, but despite their smaller size, the Tang ships had the advantage of the terrain, using the narrowing at the river, and they also had superior tactics.  Although the Yamato soldiers fought ferociously, they couldn't move the Tang fleet. Speaking of fighting, let's talk about what it meant.  There were no cannons or anything like that.  It is likely that the projectile weapons of the day were arrows, and based on the ship designs, it was likely that ships would need to get close and grapple with each other so that soldiers could actually do the fighting.  In this way, ships were like floating battlefields.  If you could burn the ships, then that was something, but fire would also be a danger to your own wooden vessel.  And so it is likely that ships would have to engage with each other and effectively let the other side grapple if you wanted to fight, unless you just wanted to exchange arrows. After being repulsed four times, ten days after they had first engaged, the Tang vessels finally counterattacked.  They were able to swarm out and envelope the right and left flanks or the Yamato ships.  Four hundred ships were burned and sent to the bottom of the sea.  The Yamato forces were unable to break through the blockade and had to turn around.  The Battle of Haku-suki-no-e was a total defeat, and only ten days later, Chuyu fell.  King Pung was able to escape, fleeing to Goguryeo, but the writing was on the wall: The Kingdom of Baekje would never be reconstituted.  The Yamato forces departed the continent and headed back to the archipelago.  They met up at Honye on the 24th day of the 9th month and started out for the archipelago on the following day, eventually returning to Yamato, along with some of the Baekje nobles and ministers who had fled with them. The results of this defeat were resounding.  The battle of Haku-suki-no-e, known in Korean as the Battle of Baekgang, or the Battle of the Baek River, would change the political landscape.  The Tang-Silla alliance would eventually continue to pressure Goguryeo, and the dictator, Yeong Gaesomun, would die three years later, in 666.  He had held out against Tang and Silla, but with his death, there was a moment of chaos as an internal struggle broke out in the Goguryeo court.  The divisions this caused weakened the country, which fell to the Tang-Silla alliance in 667. With both Goguryeo and Baekje gone, suddenly Silla was now the country on the Tang empire's borders.  Without their shared enemies, there was not longer an alliance between the two, and Silla would push back against the Tang.  The Tang held out on the peninsula for another decade, but without Silla support, it became too costly to continually ship supplies to the troops.  Silla was eventually able to force the Tang forces off of the peninsula, and thus began the period on the Korean peninsula known as Unified Silla, where Silla ruled all of the what is now north and south Korea. In the archipelago, in the aftermath of their ally's defeat, there was worry in the Yamato court.  They were afraid that the Tang empire would come after them, next, and they began building fortresses from Tsukushi all the way along Kyushu and the Seto Inland sea area.  These are peninsular style fortresses, often using earthworks and walls that were built up around the tops of mountains, using the terrain.  A large earthwork was put up between the coast and the Dazaifu, in case Tang troops landed in Hakata bay.  Today, many of these earthworks still exist.  Some were even repurposed for gun emplacements in the lead up to what would become World War II, as they were still highly defensible positions. The feared invasion never came, and the fortresses would eventually be abandoned, but they are still a testament to just how seriously Yamato took this threat. Next up, we'll take a look at Naka no Oe's reign.  Naka no Oe is known in the Chronicles as Tenchi Tennou, the sovereign of Heavenly Wisdom.  We'll talk about that some more as we get into his time on the throne.  Since 645 he had been a force in the Yamato court, but he had not taken the throne at a younger age.  Now, however, his power seemed secure.  He took the throne upon his mother's death, and we'll talk about that and more in future episodes. 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

YOU TOO TALL. Flirting with the Kabob Guy. Zipper Major. Swagtastic. Fartgas In The Bar Car. In the Poo Pipe. A Brevity of Dunaways. Taiwan the Cheese Doodle. Can-a-Sherpa. Nipple high Asian lady. Yeastie Boys. YOU CAN EAT CHEWED RICE. Poncho certified. Nakatomi air vents. Making Comics Takes Blood, Sweat and Tears, But Mostly Blood, with Stephen and more on this episode of The Morning Stream. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

YOU TOO TALL. Flirting with the Kabob Guy. Zipper Major. Swagtastic. Fartgas In The Bar Car. In the Poo Pipe. A Brevity of Dunaways. Taiwan the Cheese Doodle. Can-a-Sherpa. Nipple high Asian lady. Yeastie Boys. YOU CAN EAT CHEWED RICE. Poncho certified. Nakatomi air vents. Making Comics Takes Blood, Sweat and Tears, But Mostly Blood, with Stephen and more on this episode of The Morning Stream. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Though it may not seem like it on first glance, across Asuka there are various remnants of a much grander period.  Postholes tell the story of palaces built over and over on the same spots.  In addition, there are the various temples and various carved stone statues and other features.  This episode we'll talk about some of the stonework and palace complexes built during Takara Hime's reign, as well as the deadly politics that were still the currency of the court. For more, check out our blogpost at:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-118 Rough Transcription Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 118: Stonework and Treason Before we dive into the episode, a quick shout out to thank Bodil for supporting us on Ko-Fi.com.  For information on how you can also help support the show, we'll have information at the end of the episode or go check out our podcast page at SengokuDaimyo.com. And now, on with the episode:   Soga no Akaye's mansion was busily quiet.  There was plenty of chatter, but it was mostly in hushed tones as servants busied themselves with their work, but wondered what was going on.  They couldn't help but notice the high ranking visitors that had come.  It was to be expected, though.  After all, their master was in charge while the rest of the court was away on a retreat, comforting the sovereign in her grief.  And so why wouldn't people be showing up to meet with him? But nobody was quite sure what all of these visitors were discussing.  They had all gone into an upper story of the building, but the crowd included some powerful figures, including, some said, a royal prince.  Who's who and where people stood in the court were always topics of discussion, but especially now.  After all, what they were dealing with was unprecedented:  who had heard of a sovereign stepping down in the first place, let alone stepping back up because they then outlived their successor?  But she was no spring chicken, either.  Surely it would be her son that would finally ascend the throne next, right?  But that was never guaranteed. Either way, some of the servants grumbled, a change would be nice.  Ever since the royal family had moved back to Asuka, formally making it the capital again, there had been a flurry of activity. Sure, it meant that a certain amount of prestige returned to that region, and houses that had been in disrepair were suddenly occupied again.  But there was so much more.  Just about all of the available labor pool that wasn't working the fields was working on this project or that—there was almost nothing left for anyone else.  How was anyone else supposed to get things done when all of the able-bodied people were already toiling on the sovereign's own vanity projects?  And after building that giant government complex in Naniwa, no less! Such was, I imagine, the hushed rumor-mongering going on in the house when suddenly there came a loud “crack” as of a piece of wood snapping in two.  Later they would learn that an old wooden rest had broken, but that wasn't immediately obvious.  The servants did notice that shortly thereafter, their visitors began to depart, heading back to their own mansions. As for Soga no Akaye, he said nothing, but he seemed drained.  He had a heavy look, as though he was bearing an incredible weight.  Soon thereafter, he requested a brush and some paper, and he began to write out a letter…   So we are talking about the second reign of Takara Hime, who came back to the throne in 655, following the death of her brother, Prince Karu, known as Koutoku Tennou.  For the first time she reigned, the Chroniclers gave her the name “Kougyoku Tennou”, but for her second reign she would be known in the Chronicles as “Saimei Tennou”. We already discussed some of what was recorded as happening in the north during Takara Hime's second reign, with the Emishi and the Mishihase and the expeditions by Abe no Omi no Hirafu.  This episode we are going to focus more on what was going on in the Home Provinces of Yamato—and most specifically the impact that Takara Hime's reign would have on Asuka. I've noted in the past how modern Asuka can seem like your typical rural Japanese town.  Roads weave between rice fields, flanked by densely packed neighborhoods at the foot of the green hills or lining the shores of the Asuka river.  To the north, the valley opens onto the vast Nara basin—a largely flat region that is much more heavily populated but still would be considered “inaka”, or rural country, by anyone from a metropolis like Tokyo or Ohosaka.  To the south, the land rises up into mountain peaks.  Beyond that ridge, the land drops into the Yoshino River Valley, but otherwise the rest of the Kii peninsula, to the south, is covered in a sparsely populated mountain range, where small villages carve out a life in the nooks and crannies between the numerous ridges, finding the rare spot of flat land to build houses and plant their fields.  Looking at it today, Asuka might seem idyllic, rural, and calm.  And yet, back in Takara Hime's day, it was anything but. When Takara Hime moved back to Asuka, she went on a building spree.  In fact, the Chronicles actually complain about all of the building that she was doing, and we'll get to that.  Much of this episode is going to revolve around her building projects, as well as her comings and goings.  While we'll talk about what the Chronicles say, I also want to talk about some of what still remains in Asuka.  Certainly the grand palaces are gone, for the most part leaving little more than post-holes, lying beneath the rice fields.  A bit more obvious are the various kofun, scattered across the landscape, but beyond that there we also see stone works, including numerous carved stones, which range from crude statues, which may have been minimally worked, to elaborate fountains, which would have used natural water pressure to create impressive waterworks.  These latter works demonstrate the sophistication of the masons of the time, and hint at the grandeur of the various palaces, gardens, and mansion complexes that once populated the landscape.  And if you want a little feeling of what it is like, I talked a bit about walking through Asuka in a bonus episode back in March of 2024—if you are interested, look up “Traveling Through the Ancient Nara Basin, Part 2.   So along with what we see in the Chronicles, I want to talk about some of these other features, even if we aren't entirely sure of when, exactly, they were built.  There are a few, though, that we do suspected were built in this period, by Takara Hime, or at least at her order.  So we'll talk about those as we get there. Her reign wasn't all about building things, though.  Politics in the Yamato court remained as cutthroat as ever.  Although Prince Naka no Oe, Takara Hime's son, had been designated as “Crown Prince” he had not taken the throne, despite being of age, and we aren't told why, though the fact that Takara Hime had previously abdicated because of the events of the Isshi Incident, back in 645 (see Episode XX) may have meant that she was still considered the senior eligible member of the royal line.  Then there was the case of Prince Arima.  Prince Arima was the son of Karu, aka Koutoku Tenno, which made him Naka no Oe's cousin.  This wouldn't have meant anything had his father not ascended to the throne.  And under the succession practices of the time, although Naka no Oe was designated as the Crown Prince, that wasn't a guarantee that he would be next in line, so Prince Arima may have been a potential candidate.  However, there is at least one source that says Prince Arima was not yet of age, but still a teenager.  Still, that was no doubt old enough for some in the court to support him—and as we'll see in later centuries, age limits could be negotiable.  So we'll also discuss that, as well. So let's get into it. When the royal family first moved back to Asuka, in 653,  they took up residence in the temporary palace of Kahabe no Miya.  Unfortunately, this name doesn't tell us much about where the palace was located.  There is one theory that the Kawabe no Miya might be at what is known as the Asuka Inabuchi Palace site, up in the Asuka river valley, in the modern Iwaido district, a little south of the famous Ishibutai kofun site.  This is believed to have been a palace—or at least the mansion of some very wealthy family—given its layout, including what appears to be a cobblestone courtyard, and the lack of any roof tiles, which would have been reserved for temples, at that time. The term “temporary” palace comes up a lot in the Chronicles.  In most of the cases where it is used, it suggests that there was already a building in place and the sovereign took up residence there, hence the term “temporary” palace.  Often times we see that a temporary palace is said to have been “built”, at which point I have to wonder if that is truly the case—did they actually build a brand new structure to temporarily house the sovereign and the royal family—or does it just refer to the fact that they may have taken an existing compound and perhaps made some slight changes to accommodate the royal dignity?  Unfortunately, the Chronicles don't really go into much detail. Wherever the Kawabe no Miya happened to be, it does seem to have been temporary, as we later see Takara Hime back at the Itabuki palace, and indeed she reascended the throne there in 655.  The Itabuki palace first shows up in Takara hime's first reign, and seems to be one of at least two royal palaces in Asuka at the time, the other one being the Woharida Palace.  The Woharida palace had been around for a while – it was noted as early as 603, in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, and there is the suggestion that it was still around in the time that Karu, aka Kotoku Tenno, was reigning.  We know that Takara Hime took up residence there at some point during her own reign as well.  But in 643 she had the Itabuki palace built, though apparently that didn't mean that the Oharida palace was completely torn down and abandoned – it just was no longer the primary site of court ritual.  Of course, the Itabuki palace wouldn't be the seat of the government for long, either, as the Isshi Incident took place there in 645, and Karu would subsequently move the capital to Naniwa, building the Toyosaki palace. And so the Itabuki palace remained, but was not exactly kept up, so that when the royal family returned to Asuka, it wasn't ready for them to inhabit, and likely required extensive renovation.  Nonetheless, it was being inhabited two years later, when Takara hime again ascended the throne. A quick note here about the name “Itabuki”, because we think that this likely referred to a very specific style of construction that was used.  Up to this point, as far as we can tell, the primary roofing material for all major buildings was a kind of local thatching – we still see this today on some shrines and other buildings.  “Itabuki”, in contrast, refers to a roof made with wooden boards.  Today, we have buildings with rooves where the roof shingles are overlapping boards of wood or bark from the cypress tree: thin layers stacked one on top of the other.  Even today, the modern Imperial Palace in Kyoto uses wood shingles rather than the curved roof tiles that many people think of when they think of Asian architecture. So that's the Itabuki palace, all spruced up and ready for Takara hime to occupy again.  That said, remember the older Woharida palace, the other one in Asuka? Later in 655, a project was started to update that palace as well.  We are told that as of the 13th day of the 10th month there had been a plan to add roof tiles to one of the buildings at the Woharida palace, but unfortunately much of the timber from the mountains and valleys that was designated for the project was found to be too weak from rot, and so they decided to not go forward with that plan.  I would note here that tiled rooves, while they might seen somewhat easier to put together—after all, you only need a layer of interlocking and overlapping tiles—are extremely heavy.  They are known to deform the wooden structures underneath them, and can weigh hundreds of pounds per square foot.  Much of the classic shape of these tiled rooves developed over time to compensate for some of that weight, so this makes me wonder if the wood the palace craftspeople brought in was really that rotten, or if it was just not strong enough for the work that they were trying to do.  After all, were they applying the same techniques as for a temple, or were they simply trying to replace traditional thatching or shingles with clay tiles?  Either way, the project failed, even after all of the work that had gone into it.  This is a small entry in the Chronicles, but it would have meant levying corvee labor that had to go out to the designated regions to source the timber, not to mention setting up the kilns to make the tiles, as well as other preparations that would have been necessary.  In other words, a lot of work, for apparently no payoff. On top of that, we are told that around that time, in the winter of that year—which would have been the 10th, 11th, or 12th month, roughly corresponding from late November to February of the following year—the Itabuki palace caught fire and burned down, and so the sovereign and her retinue decamped to the temporary palace of Kawara – the River Plain or Field. “Kawara” could theoretically refer to just about any flat area by a river. Aston points out that “Kawara” can also mean “rooftile”, which is interesting given what we just talked about, the entry immediately before that deals with attempting to add new rooftiles to a part of the Oharida palace. However, there is some thought that this refers to the Kawara Temple, Kawaradera, and you can find claims that Kawaradera was built on the site of the temporary palace.  There is a reference to Kawaradera in the previous reign, in the year 653, though another source apparently says it was talking about Yamadadera, instead.  There isn't another mention of “Kawaradera” that I can find until 673, so it is entirely possible that the temple started its life off as a mansion or even a temporary royal palace of some kind, and was later turned into a temple. Kawaradera itself is rather interesting.  If you visit the site, today, you can see large stone bases that help to demonstrate the size of the ancient temple.  It was one of the four Great Temples of Asuka, along with Asukadera, Kudara Ohodera, and Yakushiji.  And yet, unlike the other three, we don't have clear indications about its founding in the Chronicles.  When the capital eventually moved to Heijo-kyo, in Nara city, many of the other temples were removed to the new capital, but not, as far as I can see, Kawaradera.  Donald McCallum suggests that this is because it was replaced, instead, by Koufukuji, a temple with deep ties to the descendants of Nakatomi no Kamatari, the Fujiwara clan.  He suggests that mention of the temple in the official records may have even been suppressed by individuals such as Fujiwara no Fubito.  Kawaradera remained in Asuka.  Eventually it fell to ruin, but there is still a small temple on the site, known as Gu-fuku-ji. As for the Kawara Palace, if Kawaradera really was in operation by 653, it is possible that the sovereign took over some of the buildings at Kawaradera, or perhaps the temporary palace was simply somewhere nearby. In any case, they don't seem to have stayed there for too long—they started work on a new palace the following year.  This was the later Okamoto Palace, and from what we can tell it was built on the same site as the Itabuki Palace, south of Asukadera.  This site would see multiple palaces over the years, and even today you can go and see some of the post-holes that they have found, indicating the size of the complex through the years. Based on the layout and size of the Asuka palaces, it seems that these early palaces focused on the “dairi”, the private quarters of the sovereign.  This seems to have ignored the reforms made with the Toyosaki palace design in Naniwa in the early 650s.  That palace, which was built on an incredibly grand scale, consisted of both the private quarters and the public government offices.  But in Asuka the royal family's “palace” appears to have only consisted of the private quarters, for the most part.  So where was the actual bureaucracy happening?  Were there other facilities we don't know about?  Or perhaps, the Toyosaki palace itself was overly ambitious, and there wasn't actually the staff for such a grand complex?  After all, they were just setting up the bureaucracy and perhaps their reach had exceeded their grasp.  Or was it the case that things werestill being run out of the palace complex in Naniwa while the sovereign lived in Asuka?  That seems to have been roughly 10 hours away, by foot, though perhaps only half that by horse. The northern end of the Asuka valley is not as well suited to a large palace complex.  Not only was it already full of temples and the like, but the ground itself rises to the south, and the hills on either side start to come together.  It certainly isn't the kind of place to layout a grand city.  But perhaps that was not the intent—at least not immediately.  It didn't matter much, though, because the Later Okamoto palace, as it came to be known, was not long for this world.  Scarcely had it been built and occupied but that it caught fire and burned down—another expenditure of funds and labor that were once more counted as nothing. In fact, Takara hime was apparently on a tear, and went ahead and initiated quite a few projects that happened in 656.  We are told that nearby Tamu Peak was crowned with a circular enclosure, close to where two “tsuki” trees grew.  A “lofty” building was erected and called both Futatsuki no Miya (the Palace of the Two Tsuki) and Amatsu Miya (the Palace of Heaven).  She also had a new palace erected in Yoshino, possibly as a seasonal retreat.  And with this she was just getting started. She also had laborers dig a canal all the way from the western end of Mt. Kaguyama all the way to Mt. Isonokami.  We are told that 200 barges were then loaded with stone from Mt. Isonokami and hauled to the mountain east of the palace, where the stones were piled up to form a wall.  This last one had people up in arms.  They called the canal the “mad canal” and said that it wasted the labor of over 30,000 people.  On top of that, she used 70,000 men to build the wall.  To top it all off, the timber for the palace rotted away and the top of the mountain where they were building collapsed.  We are told that people cursed it all, crying out: “May the mound built at Iso no Kami break down of itself as fast as it is built.” So, yeah, people weren't too happy.  We, however, just might be – because all of this building work? It leaves traces in the landscape. We aren't always sure about locations in the Chronicles, as it is very easy for names to shift over time or for things to be renamed at a later date. But what we do know is that there are quite a few examples of stone work in the Asuka region.  There is the kame-ishi stone that looks only vaguely carved—it appears to have two carved eyes, but otherwise appears to use the natural shape of the stone to evoke a tortoise—that sits near the site of Kawaradera and Tachibana-dera.  There are the various saruishi—carved figures that are purportedly based on saru, or monkeys, but are likely meant to represent people.  They may have once adorned an elite family's garden or similar, and they were since moved to the tomb of Kibitsu hime.  There are various fountains and waterworks.  And then there are the Sakafune-ishi ruins, sitting along a ridge east of the palace site.  This consists of a large stone up on the hill, with carved channels that appear to be made to channel water poured into the grooves.  At the bottom of the hill there is a turtle shaped stone basin, filled from a boat-shaped water tank.  Across the hill is example of stone work, including possible walls. Given the apparent age of everything, and its location, it is thought that this may all be part of the Futatsuki no Miya complex that Takara hime built.  Unfortunately, it is still not clear how it was meant to operate.  After Asuka was abandoned as the capital, knowledge of the site also disappeared.  There were some stories that arose about the stone that it was used for some kind of sake-brewing, hence the name, but nothing truly concrete has arisen.  There may have been other structures, perhaps made of wood, that are no longer present, and the stone itself appears to have broken and eroded away over the years.  It may have been meant as a ritual site, or perhaps it was just built as some kind of wonder for the people.  It doesn't fit into any clear model of any Buddhist or even ancient Shinto practice, nor is it clearly connected to other continental practices.  We certainly know that they did plenty with water, given the number of waterworks and other carved stones, including a model of Mt. Sumera, we are told was built to the west of Asukadera on the 15th day of the 7th month of the following year—657. Maybe these are remnants of that project Whatever its purpose, the Sakafune-ishi site does seem to compare favorably with what is described in the Nihon Shoki, and perhaps it was considered such a waste of resources just because it didn't fit in with the prevailing ritual culture.  Maybe Takara hime was too artistically avant-garde for her time. “Wasting resources” would, in fact, become a chief complaint against Takara Hime during her time on the throne.  And that takes us from seemingly harmless construction projects into the court politics of the day.  Now as you should recall, Prince Naka no Oe, Takara Hime's son, was the Crown Prince at this point, and quite influential.  He was supported by various courtiers, such as Nakatomi no Kamatari, the Naidaijin, but his eventual ascendancy to the throne was not entirely assured.  We've seen plenty of examples where someone would seem to be in line for the throne and they didn't ever make it.  We know that there were several other royal princes at this time.  One of the youngest was Prince Takeru, a grandson of Takara Hime, who was born around 651.  Then there was Prince Naka no Oe's brother, Prince Ohoama.  He was also one of Takara Hime's sons, and while we haven't heard much of him in the narrative, we will definitely see more of him in the future.  On top of the two of them, there is Prince Arima, whom I talked about at the beginning of the episode.  Prince Arima was mentioned as the son of Karu and Wotarashi Hime, but his mother was not Karu's Queen—that was Hashibito, daughter of Okinaga Tarashi-hi Hironuka, aka Jomei Tennou, and Takara Hime.  Yup, Karu basically married his own niece, though that may have been an attempt to keep the most direct connection possible to the royal line.  Arima's mom Wotarashi Hime, on the other hand, was the daughter of Abe no Kurahashi no Oho-omi—the Minister of the Left, or Sadaijin, during Karu's reign.  Strictly speaking, based on the way that the succession has been depicted so far, Prince Arima wouldn't technically meet the requirements.  That said, we've seen where that has been bypassed in the past, and no doubt people were aware just how easily it would be to rewrite the history, if they had to.  He was young—but not so young that he couldn't be involved in the politics of the court. Other than a note about his parentage at the start of Karu's reign, Prince Arima isn't mentioned again until the ninth month of 657, and right off the bat you can tell where the Chroniclers fall on his personality.  They describe him as deceitful, and claim that he pretended to be insane—a term that doesn't really show up elsewhere, so it is hard to know what exactly is meant.  Is he the Hamlet of his age?  Arima used this as an excuse to go to Muro Onsen—thought to be modern Shirahama Hot Springs, on the southwestern end of the Kii Peninsula.   When he came back he sang its praises, claiming that “scarce had I seen that region, when my complaint disappeared of itself.”  The Queen wanted to go and see for herself. Overall, this hardly seems to be very “deceitful”, though it is suspected that Arima may have feigned an illness to avoid some of the politics around the start of the new reign.  Given his father Karu's recent death, it would likely have been easy enough to claim that he was greatly depressed.  We aren't told how long he stayed at Muro Onsen, but presumably it was for some time. At the start of the following year, on the 13th day of the first month, Kose no Tokuda no Omi, the Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, passed away.  This would have no doubt created some ripples, but little more is said—we don't even have the name of who succeeded him in the position, at least not in the Nihon Shoki.  Four months later, which is to say in the fifth month of that same year, 658, Prince Takeru passed away.  He was only 8 years old, but as the grandson of Takara Hime a temporary tomb was constructed in the Imaki valley.  Takara Hime lamented his death greatly, and in the 10th month, she took Arima's advice and went to visit the Ki Onsen.  She had several poems composed and handed them to Hata no Ohokura no Miyatsuko no Mari to record them for posterity. While she was away, Soga no Akaye no Omi was the acting official in charge.  And several weeks in, he addressed Prince Arima.  He noted that there were three problems with Takara Hime's government. First – She builds treasuries on a great scale, collecting the riches of the people. Second – She wastes the public grain revenue in digging long canals. Third – She loads barges with stones and transports them to be piled up into a hill. This may have been popular opinion, but it was also rather treasonous talk.  Prince Arima simply smiled and said: “I have only now come to an age where I am fit to bear arms.” So, yeah, he was basically saying that he was old enough to take up arms—and presumably lead others in a rebellion, if that was the case. Two days later, on the fifth day of the 11th month, Prince Arima met Akaye at his mansion.  They went into one of the upper stories, where they wouldn't be interrupted, and there they conspired together.  Others were also involved, it seems—Mori no Kimi no Oho-ishi, Sakahibe no Muraji no Kusuri, and Shihoya no Muraji no Konoshiro.  There are a few different books that claim to record what the plans were.  One says that Soga no Akaye, Shihoya no Konoshiro, Mori no Oho-ishi, and Sakahibe no Kusuri divined the future of their conspiracy by drawing slips of paper, to see how it would turn out.  Another book states that Arima claimed he would burn down the palace and take 500 men to march down south.  There he would waylay Takara Hime at the harbour of Muro.  They were going to exile her to Awaji island, setting up a fleet of ships to ensure she could never leave. As they were discussing what to do—no doubt talking about how the Prince could take the throne, a leg-rest that they were using broke.  Another book claims it was an arm-rest, instead, but otherwise the details are the same.  They both agreed that was a bad omen, and decided not to proceed any further with their plans.  Prince Arima returned home, but apparently Soga no Akaye had a change of heart.  He apparently figured that his only way out was to turn in the others and admit everything.  And so, that night, Akaye sent Mononobe no Enowi no Muraji no Shibi, who was in charge of the labourers working on the palace.  They surrounded the palace and then Akaye sent a mounted courier to inform Takara Hime. That letter must have laid everything out.  Takara hime had the conspirators arrested and brought to Ki Onsen.  Arima's servant, Nihitabe no Muraji no Yonemaro, followed them.  Prince Naka no Oe himself questioned Arima about why he plotted treason.  Arima's answer is a bit cryptic:  “Heaven and Akaye know.” He responded, “I do not understand at all.” In the end, all of the conspirators were found guilty, and executed.  Tajihi no Wosaha no Muraji no Kuniso was sent to do the task.  Prince Arima was strangled at the Fujishiro acclivity, along with Shihoya no Konoshiro and Nihitabe no Yonemaro.  Before being executed, Konoshiro made a rather macabre request, asking that—presumably after he was dead—they cut off his right hand and make it a national treasure.  The other two conspirators, Mori no Oho-ishi and Sakahibe no Kusuri, were merely banished, presumably having played less of a role. Once again, we must remember that we are only getting one side of the story.  It is definitely convenient for Naka no Oe to have a potential rival out of the way.  At the same time, it is certainly plausible that there was more than a little bit of consternation about how Takara Hime had been spending so much on all of these construction projects.  And yet… were these Takara Hime's projects, alone? Remember, Prince Naka no Oe seems to have had a fair bit of clout.  He orchestrated the original coup, where he killed Soga no Iruka and his father.  And then he declined the throne, but became a major part of the new government.  He was apparently powerful enough that he organized the move back to Asuka against the wishes of Karu no Ohokimi. So would all of these projects have been done without his involvement? This is an area where I have to admit that I probably need to check my bias.  On the one hand, it is rare enough in patriarchal accounts to see women with agency and in positions of power, and so it is easy enough to make an assumption that any agency they are given in the record, they likely had more than is mentioned.  At the same time, in this particular instance, at least, Takara Hime's role in this could just as easily be a cover to preserve the image of Naka no Oe, who is certainly portrayed as a hero figure, bringing much needed change and modernization—such as it was—to Yamato.  His enemies are always shown to be in the wrong, and even if he is accused of something horrible—such as the death of Soga no Ishikawa no Maro—it turns out that it was actually the fault of someone else, such as the person who slandered Maro to him in the first place.  So could it be that these unpopular construction projects were actually his doing, all along?  Was the conspiracy simply to overthrow Takara Hime, or was it focused on both her and Naka no Oe, together? To be honest, I couldn't say for certain.  All we have to go on is what the Chroniclers tell us, and they lay the blame fairly firmly at the feet of Takara Hime.  But do remember that Naka no Oe is not necessarily the Shining Prince that he is often made out to be, and that people rarely come to or stay in power in a society like Yamato's by being nice all the time.  We certainly know what he is capable of from the Isshi Incident, and we shouldn't forget that in the narrative. Now when Takara Hime returned from Ki Onsen after winter ended, in the new year.  We are told that she got back on the third day of the first month of 659.  A couple of months later, on the first day of the third month, she went to Yoshino and held a banquet there—no doubt at the palace she had had constructed.  This may have been at the site of Miyataki Ruins, where excavations have revealed numerous examples of roof tiles and other artifacts that may have come from a building from the Asuka or Nara era. The visit to Yoshino must have been quick, however, as we are told that two days later she visited Hira-ura in Afumi, on the shores of Lake Biwa.  Perhaps this only means she left two days later, since that must have been quite the journey back in the day.  Would she have traveled on horseback, or in a carriage or something similar?  No doubt a full procession would take time, and I doubt that the sovereign would push herself.  We also don't have a reason for her to go, that I can see.  It is an odd entry, to say the least. And I think it may be best to end it there.  I do encourage anyone who can to get down to Asuka and plan to spend a couple of days if you really want to get around.  You may want to rent a bike or even a car to get to everything, though you can walk to most things.  There are several museums and cultural centers set up to expound upon Asuka culture, with a focus on the history and archaeology specifically of that period. The palace site where Takara Hime ruled would continue to be the location of at least two more palaces, which we'll talk about in time.  Before that, though, we'll want to cover a few more things.  Most importantly, we'll want to talk about the relationship with lands outside of the archipelago.  We'll discuss the man from Tukhara—who may have simply been from the Ryukyu islands, or possible from as far aways the Dvaravati Kingdom, in modern day Thailand, or even from the western edge of India and Pakistan, having traveled the Silk Road.  Some have even suggested that he may be a Tocharian, and we'll talk about what that means.  And then, before we finish, we'll have to talk about everything else going on, including the conclusion of the Tang-Baekje war. Until then thank you 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.    

"Welcome to the party, pal!" For Episode 343, David and Brandon discuss DIE HARD for their Christmas Action series. Listen as they discuss the multiple actors who passed on the movie, the performance of Bruce Willis, the struggles of production, and how the movie became a sleeper hit in 1988.  Also, don't forget to join our Patreon for more exclusive content: Opening Banter - Cleopatra and John Ford -  (00:00:10) Recap of Christmas Action Genre (00:07:34) Intro to Die Hard (00:10:08) How Die Hard Got to Production (00:19:41) Favorite Scenes (00:32:35) On Set Life - (01:10:16) Aftermath: Release and Legacy (01:24:31) What Worked and What Didn't (01:32:17) Film Facts (01:43:22) Awards (01:44:20) Final Questions on the Movie (01:53:46) Wrapping Up the Episode (02:03:19) Contact Us: Facebook: @cinenation Instagram: @cinenationpodcast Twitter/X: @CineNationPod TikTok: @cinenation Letterboxd: CineNation Podcast

Listeners of the In The Money Players podcast are treated to a detailed exploration of an action-packed weekend in horse racing, featuring prominent tracks like Belmont at the Big A, Keeneland, and Santa Anita. Peter Thomas Fornatale and Mike Pribozie expertly navigate through the stakes races scheduled for this Friday and Saturday, providing listeners with a comprehensive analysis of the horses and their chances. From discussing the nuances of the pace scenarios in key races to identifying potential underdogs, the hosts equip listeners with the knowledge needed to make informed betting decisions. They pay particular attention to the stakes races at Keeneland, such as the Phoenix Stakes, where they dissect the form of contenders like Nakatomi and Comedy Town, weighing their recent performances against their expected odds.Throughout the episode, Peter and Mike highlight the critical role of race conditions, such as track surface and distance, in shaping a horse's performance. They emphasize how understanding these elements can lead to successful betting strategies. Additionally, the hosts touch upon the community aspect of horse racing, discussing recent initiatives aimed at promoting inclusivity and support for thoroughbred aftercare. Their insights extend beyond mere predictions, as they invite listeners to engage with the broader narrative of racing, from the excitement of the races themselves to the importance of responsible ownership and care for the horses. By the conclusion of the episode, listeners are not only prepared for the upcoming races but also feel enriched by the engaging discussions around the sport's culture and community.Takeaways: The podcast emphasizes the importance of the recent women's summit in racing, highlighting the contributions of women in the industry. Listeners are encouraged to check out the 'On the Lead' podcast episode on women in racing for insightful discussions. Peter and Mike analyze multiple stakes races across Belmont, Keeneland, and Santa Anita, offering expert opinions and tips. The hosts discuss the significance of the Breeders Cup and key races leading up to it, advising listeners on betting strategies. Listeners are reminded that thoroughbred aftercare is crucial, with events like Horse Players Happy Hour contributing to supporting it. The hosts explore various horses' performances and potential in upcoming races, providing in-depth analysis and observations for bettors. Links referenced in this episode:inthemoneypodcast.comnyra.com/tvscheduletwinspires.comracingsymposium.comxpressbet.com/tournaments