Episode 152: Queen Uno no Sarara, Part 1

July 1, 2026 Joshua Badgley

Round, crimson half-pillars on a white stone base mark the location of the original pillars of a large building. Beyond t he modern buildings, in the background, is a green, domed mountain. Another mountain range can be seen in the far distance. — Markers indicating the site of the pillars of the daigokuden, or great audience hall, of the Fujiwara Palace. In the background is Mt. Unebi, one of three sacred mountains incorporated into the landscape of the capital and the landscape of the ancient tales recorded in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki. Photo by author.

Early Life

Uno no Sarara is thought to have been born around 645. Her father was Royal Prince Naka no Ōe, later known as Tenji Tennō. Her mother was Ochi no Iratsume, the daughter of Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro. Naka no Ōe was betrothed to Ochi no Iratsume as part of a political marriage to tie the Kurayamada’s side of the family to the Royal Prince as he challenged the head of the Soga family: Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka. Uno no Sarara was born the same year that Iruka and then Emishi were both killed by Naka no Ōe and his supporters. It seems unlikely she would have been born much earlier, if the dating of the Nihon Shoki is correct, since the marriage alliance is noted in an entry for the first month of 644. Even if they consummated the marriage immediately, the earliest date we would have for the birth of Uno no Sarara is one year earlier—everything else just makes her even younger.

That means that Uno was still quite young when her grandfather, Ishikawa no Maro, was accused of plotting treason and killed himself rather than letting himself be taken captive by Naka no Ōe’s forces. We are told that Ishikawa no Maro’s daughter, Miyatsuko no Iratsume, died of grief when she heard about her father’s death. That “Miyatsuko no Iratsume” appears to be similar to another name we have for Ochi no Iratsume, suggesting that they are one and the same. So at a young age, Uno no Sarara had lost her mother and maternal grandfather.

Next, in 657, she is said to have been given in marriage to her uncle, Naka no Ōe’s brother, Royal Prince Ōama, along with at least one of her sisters. She was only 13 years old. In 661, Queen Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennō, died, leaving Uno’s father, Naka no Ōe the de facto head of government while her husband, Ōama, was the next in line—the Crown Prince. Then, in 662 she gave birth to a son, Royal Prince Kusakabe.

When Ōama retired from the position of Crown Prince, giving it to Naka no Ōe’s son, Ōtomo, and took Buddhist vows, retiring to Yoshino, Uno no Sarara went with him.

The Jinshin no Ran and Ōama’s reign

Uno no Sarara stayed close to her husband and supported him throughout the fighting with the Afumi court. She was 28 years old. She fled to the east with him, and it is said she mingled with the troops and that she helped with the planning of the war. When they were finally victorious, she continued to support her husband on the throne.

She is described as sitting on the dais with her husband during matters of state, and she was one of those who went to Yoshino to pledge to support each other—members of the royal family. When Ōama grew too ill to properly run things, he handed over the reins of government to Uno no Sarara and her son, Crown Prince Kusakabe. When he died in 686, Uno no Sarara would have been 42 years old.

Uno no Sarara quickly consolidated power. She eliminated Royal Prince Ōtsu, a rival to Crown Prince Kusakabe, and for several years they mourned Ōama. But then Prince Kusakabe died in 689, leaving behind a ten year old daughter and a seven year old son. So Uno no Sarara took the throne herself, and ruled for another eight years.

Kiyomihara Codes

The Kiyomihara Codes, named for the palace of Asuka-Kiyomihara. It was delivered in twenty-two volumes, and though it is not extant we can surmise certain aspects. For example, the definition of court bureaus and the definition of the Jingikan—a bureau of Kami Matters that is rather distinct to Yamato and which was separate from the Dajokan, or Grand Council of State. It was just the laws—not the punishments—but it was still a significant advancement of the Ritsuryō system.

Fujiwara-kyō

Also at this time we see the completion of the Fujiwara capital. This was designed as the first continental style capital—and the first continental style city—in the archipelago. It was built in a Confucian style, but with local imagery in the form of the sacred mountains of Mt. Unebi, Mt. Kagu, and Mt. Miminashi, all of which feature in stories from the “Age of the Gods”. In the center of the Fujiwara capital was the Fujiwara Palace—a new, grand palace built to be the seat of an imperial-style government.

Amaterasu and Ise Shrine

Another thing we see at this time is the rise in prominence of Amaterasu as the chief kami of the Heavenly Plain, Takama-no-hara. The story of Ise is told throughout the Chronicles, at various points, but there are plenty of indications that it was not preeminent, and may not have been the primary shrine of Yamato until this point. Even as recently as the reign of Naka no Ōe do we see that it is the god of Mt. Miwa, Ōmononushi, who is brought to the environs of Ōtsu to be worshipped. In the reigns of Ōama and Uno no Sarara, the ancient shrine of Miwa is rarely talked about, despite all of the attention lavished on shrines and kami worship more generally. There is even some thought that the establishment of the Jingikan itself may have had something to do with Ise. More of that in Part II….

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 152: Queen Uno no Sarara, Part 1
It was rare that something would pull people from the fields at the height of the season, but it wasn’t every day that people of Iga had the opportunity to watch a true royal procession. They gathered on either side of the street as the parade passed through town. There were horses and carts, but also just numerous men carrying various bags and provisions. There were also military guards, decked out in their finest—just in case anyone got any ideas. There were also various nobles and government officials, riding with her. The outfits and color would have been striking, particular to those who had little business with the court. And at the height of it all was a covered palanquin. Nobody could see the royal presence inside through the screens, though later they would talk about getting a peek of her hair or her robes. It didn’t matter, the procession itself was enough of a spectacle for all to see.
Not everyone was pleased. A few of the more dour elders complained about how much of a disruption and a distraction it was. They would at least be somewhat mollified by the news that, for enduring the disruption, they would at least get a break on their taxes that year.
The procession was headed east, to the land of Ise. Apparently they were going to pay their respects at the shrine there. Did you know that it was dedicated to the ancestor of the royal family itself? The actual sun goddess herself, Amaterasu. Some of the elders shook their heads. They remembered when everyone had been focused on Mt. Miwa, to the west. And what about this Buddha that had shown up from overseas? There were temples to him popping up all over the place. They weren’t so sure about all of this, but they knew their local kami and their local priests, who helped with the local harvests, and that was enough for them. The court and their fancy learning could figure out what the country needed, but they were going to stay focused on the day to day, instead.
Here we are, in the reign of Uno no Sarara, widow of Ohoama and mother to the late Prince Kusakabe, known to history as Jitou Tennou. We’ve actually been in Uno’s reign for several episodes now, but while we’ve talked about how that reign began and the roles a lot of other people played in that beginning, this episode I would finally like to start focusing on her—who she was, where she came from, and what she did. Since that covers a lot of ground, we are going to cover some of her history up to this reign, and we’ll be mostly focusing on two major updates—the creation of the new capital of Fujiwara, aka Fujiwara-kyou, and the increased royal patronage of Ise, which is thought to have been responsible for the ascendancy of Amaterasu as the paramount kami of the pantheon of Shinto kami.
So let’s start at the very beginning. It is traditionally held that Uno no Sarara was born around 645 to Naka no Oe and Soga no Ochi no Iratsume. Ochi was the daughter of Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, cousin to the powerful Soga no Iruka. Naka no Oe’s marriage to Ochi no Iratsume and her sister, Mehi no Iratsume, had been part of a strategic alliance with Ishikawa no Maro, who helped him overthrow his cousins and institute the Taika Reforms. We talked about all of that back in Episode 106, as well as subsequent podcasts after that covering the next several reigns.
So 645 is about the earliest Uno no Sarara may have been born, the very start of the Taika era, when her father began instituting a lot of changes based on continental practices. She would have grown up in the inner buildings of the Asuka court during this time of immense change. She was probably a bit young when the Toyosaki palace was first built, though she may have remembered when the court abandoned it and moved back to Asuka.
Unfortunately, when she was only five years old, tragedy struck. Ishikawa no Maro, who had been made the Udaijin, or Minister of the Right, was slandered by his own brother, Soga no Himuka, and in return, Naka no Oe sent a force to have him punished. When he saw he could not get away, Uno no Sarara’s grandfather, Ishikawa no Maro, took his own life. The Nihon Shoki—written, I should note, at least partly under the direction of Maro’s granddaughter—claims that evidence came to light demonstrating his innocence, and he was posthumously exonerated.
Maro’s daughter, Miyatsuko no Iratsume, was so saddened by all of this that we are told she died of a broken heart. Miyatsuko no Iratsume appears to be another name for Ochi no Iratsume, and if so, it would mean that Uno no Sarara lost both her mother and grandfather when she was only five years old due to the actions of her own father. This sounds to me like it should be some kind of villain origin story.
From there, she was likely taken care of by her aunts and other women in the palace, at least until 657. It was about that time, at the age of 13, that she was married off to her uncle, Prince Ohoama. We don’t have a precise age for Ohoama, but he was likely no more than 5 years younger than Uno’s father, Naka no Oe, and some estimates suggest he was in his late 20s or early 30s, taking to wife his 13 year old niece. I can’t help but think, here, of the Heian period novel, the Tale of Genji, where the titular character, Genji, finds Lady Murasaki and marries her at the age of 10.
Uno no Sarara would have grown up in her uncle-husband’s home, and she was still young when the entire realm was placed on a war footing.When the court moved to Kyushu in 661 for the prosecution of the war on the continent, Uno no Sarara went with her husband, and a year later gave birth to their son, Prince Kusakabe. She was probably about 18 years old at the time.   I suspect that means She probably knew about her grandmother, Takara Hime, passing away, something that the inner circle of the royal family had attempted to keep relatively quiet for fear of disrupting the war effort.
Soon after her own son was born, news came back that the forces on the continent had lost. Baekje had fallen, and Yamato could be next. She would have traveled with her husband and the rest of the court back to Asuka and, eventually, up to Ohotsu, where her father now ruled with his brother as his right-hand man and heir to the throne.
At this time, Uno no Sarara was no stranger to politics. While her husband was in line for the throne, she knew that her brothers were also potential claimants, once they came of age. The Nihon Shoki disqualifies them through their parentage, but we see that didn’t stop the Afumi court from rallying behind Prince Ohotomo. There was also the royal princes Kawashima and Shiki. Prince Takeru would have technically been a potential threat as well, had he not died, tragically, at only eight years of age.
Now, technically, some may have been more in line than others, but Uno no Sarara knew how her own father had jumped the line, displacing her late uncle, Furubito no Oe, and it was clear something similar might happen this time around. There were also likely a few indications that not everything was great between her father and her husband, although you would hardly know it from the number of her siblings that were also residing in the north chambers of his residence.
Things came to a head in 671. At this point, Uno no Sarara was in her late 20s with a 10 year old son, and it was looking, for a moment, like her father, despite his illness, might have Ohoama killed to pave the way for Naka no Oe’s own son, Uno’s brother, Ohotomo. When Ohoama surprised everyone and stepped down, taking the tonsure, she was the only one to follow him. We don’t know if this is because she was that loyal to her husband, or because she had no other options. If her mother had taken her own life after her grandfather’s death, she may have had nobody but her father, Naka no Oe, to turn to, and he was clearly doing poorly. If she stayed, then she would be relying on the goodwill of Prince Ohotomo and others while looking after the nine year old son and heir of Ohoama, who was clearly persona non grata at court.
In contrast, one of Ohoama’s other consorts, Munakata no Amago no Iratsume would have had the Munakata family to fall back on, should she need it, and her son, Prince Takechi, was a bit older. In addition, Uno’s sister, Ohota no Himemiko had passed away earlier, in 667, and it is unclear who cared for her son, Prince Ohotsu, who was only a year younger than Uno’s son, Kusakabe. However, he, too, appears to have remained at the Afumi court with his caretakers.
So Uno no Sarara went to Yoshino with her husband. From this point on, Yoshino would become an important place for her, and during her own reign she would frequently make visits to the palace there, sometimes just for a couple of days at a time.
After Naka no Oe’s death, and the entire conflict of the Jinshin no Ran that kicked off in 672, Uno stayed by her husband’s side. She and Kusakabe made the incredible overnight journey from Yoshino to the other side of the Kii Peninsula, eventually setting up in Mie. Ohoama would continue on towards Fuwa pass, where his son Takechi was already stationed with loyal soldiers. Before that, however, he is mentioned as turning towards Ise—towards Amaterasu. The implication seems to be that he was praying for victory. It is also notable that a large part of his support was coming from the East and from areas around Ise.
Little is mentioned of Uno’s role in the record of the Jinshin no Ran, but in the opening to her reign there is a mention that she addressed the troops and mingled with the throng, until at last they formed a plan. This seems to indicate that she was involved in the planning, at least, for the prosecution of the war. On the one hand she was placed well behind the front lines. On the other hand, she was well positioned to assist with logistics. Troops and supplies from the north could come down and be redirected to the south depending on what was needed, and communications would likely be more secure through that area fully controlled by Ohoama’s troops. It is easy enough to imagine Uno no Sarara taking a role, even if it isn’t explicitly mentioned. The fact that she is mentioned as much as she is suggests to me that she had plenty to contribute to the war effort.
As the war of 672 came to a close, Ohoama had to move from a war footing to one of peacetime governance. As he ascended to the throne in 673, Uno no Sarara was made his queen. And in light of the recent issues, Ohoama appears to have leaned heavily on her and other members of the royal family for support.
And so Uno no Sarara was not just a delicate flower sitting in the hinter palace, waiting on her husband. She was an active participant in the government. When Ohoama called the various princes down to Yoshino and had them swear to uphold and support each other, she was included in their number. And the Chronicles explicitly mention that when the princes swore to uphold each other, Ohoama swore he would also support them, and then Uno no Sarara made her oath like his. That is interesting in that she isn’t included in the five princes, but rather with the sovereign, her husband. It appears she approached this from the point of view of a ruler already. Or perhaps she was not considered to be in the line of succession, and the focus was on upholding the various princes. Either way, we see how that eventually turned out.
Later, when starting the project for what is believed to be the Kiyomihara codes, she was seated on the dais with her husband, indicating that she certainly was involved in various matters of state. She also gave and received presents from the various nobles, including suits of clothing, gold, and more. When Ohoama grew ill, and could not carry out the functions of the government alone, he deferred matters to her and to the Crown Prince, presumably meaning her son, Prince Kusakabe.
Now Kusakabe is recorded as being made Crown Prince, and thus heir to the throne, however, it has also been suggested that this might not have been the case. Some have suggested that Prince Ohotsu may have been the actual Crown Prince, and that he wasn’t plotting against Kusakabe and his mother, but rather it was the other way around, with Uno no Sarara clearing him off the field to make room for her son.
Ohotsu, remember, was the son of Ohoama by way of Ohota-hime, who was a full sister to Uno no Sarara. That meant that, from a strict bloodline perspective, Ohotsu had just as much of a claim to the throne as did Kusakabe, but Kusakabe was a year older—or so the Nihon Shoki, compiled under the reign of Uno and her successors, would have us believe. We are also told that Uno was formally designated as Ohoama’s queen—but again we have that from the Nihon Shoki, which is more than a little bit biased.
Personally, I feel this theory that Uno no Sarara plotted to have Ohotsu removed without anything else stretches some of what we know, but it does illustrate that Uno no Sarara had a vested interest in ensuring that the crown went to her own progeny. I’d be more inclined to believe that there was some movement a foot, even if it was perhaps not quite as treasonous as the response to it would warrant.
And this catches us up with much of what we know. Ohotsu was executed, but then Kusakabe passed away, and so Queen Uno no Sarara became Tennou in her own right.
Things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but she still had her grandson, Prince Karu, the late Kusakabe’s son, whose mother, Princess Abe, was a younger-half sister to Uno no Sarara. Abe was the daughter of Naka no Oe and Mehi no Iratsume, making Abe another grand-daughter of Soga no Kuramayada no Ishikawa no Maro. She was also 17 years Sarara’s junior and only a year older than the late Kusakabe. By all accounts, it seems that Abe and Sarara got on well together, though she is not as prominent in the narrative that we have in the Nihon Shoki. Still, she had an important role, not in terms of governance, but in terms of ensuring that the line continued. She was in charge or protecting and raising young Prince Karu until he was ready to take the throne. In so doing, she would no doubt have had a front row seat to Queen Uno’s own efforts.
Since Uno no Sarara had already been so involved with the government, it should come as no surprise that she continued many of the efforts attributed to her husband. In fact, you’ll often find references to Temmu and Jitou side-by-side to describe what happened because very few things can be attributed to just one of the two, especially given how long some of these projects seem to have taken. That said, there were some differences. While Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, had relied primarily on members of the royal family following the Jinshin no Ran, Uno was much more likely to rely on trusted nobles, whose position at court was largely held thanks to the patronage of the royal family. Having nobles running things again, rather than handing over power to those of the Princely class, may have provided opportunities for those noble houses to once again flex and grow their political muscle, but it was either that or hand that same power over to other princes with claims to royal descent—princes who might encourage the court that it would better if they, themselves, were to succeed the Queen, rather than the young prince, her own actual bloodline. Even the loyal Prince Takechi, who seems to have supported her and Prince Karu as best he could, could easily have become a threat. This could be one of the reasons she held on to power as long she did. It was, after all, a deliberate choice on her part. She could have had someone else step in as regent, but she chose not to.
We’ve talked about Uno’s dealings with Silla and the continent at this time. That was back in Episode 148, when we talked about how Ohoama was mourned and how Yamato dealt with the early missions. We discussed, thenhow she berated the Silla envoys for not adhering to protocol and turning them away. She also met with Emishi and Hayato embassies, which only helped to cement Yamato’s place as the central hegemony over the archipelago and all those living on the islands.
At first, this was just an extension of what she and Kusakabe had been doing since Ohoama had first grown ill and handed over the reins of government. But then Kusakabe died—and life went on. Later, Kusakabe would be remembered as Okanomiya Tennou and the Nagaoka Tennou. While not counted in the formal lineage, he was still granted the title “Tennou” posthumously, likely to help legitimize his son and that lineage. And yet, despite this, there is no report of a eulogy or anything similar upon his death. Even Royal Prince Ohotsu, when he was killed for threatening Kusakabe’s own ascendance, is given a fairly wordy entry full of praise for his virtues and how he was remember. For Kusakabe we get silence. Things just move on.
Indeed, just two weeks after the Crown Prince’s death, we get orders talking about given people four holidays each month. It seems a rather banal announcement coming the same week that the Crown Prince passed away.
And banal it may be, but I do want to pick at it a bit. I think it helps us understand even more the life at that time. In most of the world, today, we have become accustomed to the western concept of a week with seven days, including two holidays every week—though we just refer to it as the weekend. Saturday and Sunday began as holy days—the Sabbath in Jewish and then Christian tradition. Even Judaism only had a single day of rest every seven days. Many cultures did not have the concept of a weekend. After all, there wasn’t anything particularly special about one day or the other. A lunar month is just under 30 days—alternating between 29 and 30 days depending on various factors. Five would fit into that much better than four seven day weeks and two more days. Or divide it into two 15 day periods, more or less. Or three weeks of ten days each. In fact, that is what was popular in the Tang dynasty at the time—though a seven day week had crept in through Buddhism, which had been picked up on the Indian subcontinent thanks to Hellenic influences. This seven day week, which is now used in modern times, was originally used more by astronomers. The days corresponded to the Sun, the Moon, and the visible planets.
The point is, there’s no such thing as a natural weekend. At some point, the Tang court introduced a rest period every five days for court officials. In Yamato, it seems that they introduced four holidays. Specifically, the local governors were to give laborers—those conscripted as corvee labor—four days every month. It doesn’t mention if they are spaced out, or at what intervals, and it was specifically for laborers. I should probably also mention that, at this time, there wasn’t a concept of a “9-to-5” job. Sure, the court operated on a schedule that may have fit fairly well in our modern life, other than its extremely early start due to the lack of cheap, safe artificial light sources. Most people, however, especially in the agricultural sectors, were likely working from sunrise to sunset, when necessary. There was no concept of overtime or a forty hour work week. You worked when you needed to work, and that was it. No time cards, just life, punctuated by holidays, festivals, market days, and whatever else needed to happen. Oddly, in our modern, more regular work schedule we work both more and less, in some ways, than our ancestors did.   Our labor often goes into things beyond our job—everything from taking care of our home to various hobbies that we enjoy. Giving laborers time off from their endeavors was no doubt something they appreciated, but I don’t know how much of an impact it had on things long term.
A more interesting endeavor comes a few months later. That is when Uno had a royal commission come together as commissioners of “good words”. We mentioned this before, especially when talking about Kose no Tayasu, who had been part of this commission, though he was the lowest ranked of the bunch. At the top it was headed by Prince Shiki, a half-brother to Uno, and one of those who had pledged his loyalty with other members of the royal family down in Yoshino, though at the time Shiki was only about 11 years old. He was the son of Koshi no Michi no Kimi no Iratsume, and a brother to Prince Osakabe. In 689, when he took charge of this commission from his half-sister, he would have been in his 22nd year, so this was probably one of his first major assignments.
We don’t have a finished product that we can point to from this project, so there isn’t a clear idea of exactly what the commission did. Aston believed that they were attempting to determine auspicious words to be used by the court. By this one could infer that they were looking into the way to draw up formal language for edicts, or how to formally address the sovereign and members of the court. However, others have suggested that this was more about finding stories and other such things and writing them down. If that is the case, this may have been a continuation of—or perhaps an addendum to—the history project started during the reign of Ohoama. The words, or stories, that the commission wrote down were likely used by later Chroniclers, though there is no specific work that is clearly attributed to their efforts. So in the end we can’t exactly know for sure.
What we can see is that Uno no Sarara was continuing to make tweaks and changes to things—and in particular in how things were stated, remembered, and passed down to posterity, one way or another. This is also part of what we see later that same month, when the 22 books of what we now call the Kiyomihara Law Codes were also published. Like the history project, this was also begun during the reign of Ohoama, and Uno had continued to see it through. It appears to have been just the law itself, not necessarily the punishments which made up the other half of the Ritsuryou, but it is still significant. Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly what was in it—the earliest law code that we have good evidence for is the Taihou code, which would come over a decade later—but we have seen some of the edicts and orders and we can make some assumptions based on later law codes as well as the language used to even define the court and how things ran. Much of what was written had likely been promulgated, previously, and a lot of this may have been more documenting the changes they had already put in place.
There is also the Afumi law code, but there are even more questions about that one. This is possibly the first one written down to this level of detail. Though it would be superseded, later, it was still an impressive work.
As in past reigns, we see things both monumental and mundane. A month after the law codes were finished, we see about orders to the Mayors of the Left and Right to set up places for Archery—literally glossed as “Ikusa”, or “war”, but likely because the two had a common root and archery and war were closely intertwined. As for the Mayors of the Left and Right, this is the first time we are seeing those terms, and I suspect they are also part of the reforms that Uno no Sarara and her late husband had been implementing. The Mayors of the Left and Right of the Capital are known as Kyoushiki or, alternatively, as Misato-zukasa. They were like kokushi, or governors, except they oversaw the capital city. Now remember, the quote-unquote “capital city” in use at this point is Asuka—it is the Kiyomihara palace and environs. There were other streets, buildings, and such around, but nothing terribly organized. Most family estates were off in their own lands or strongholds. At the same time, the court was building out a new, permanent capital. It was taking time—and likely had been put on hold during the three year mourning period for the late Ohoama Ohokimi. It required that they survey and transform an immense and populated area into a new and impressive capital in the area known today as Kashihara. This work took years—they likely had to divert labor to build the late sovereign’s mausoleum, or misasagi, and there were droughts and other reasons why they may have had to pause work. And yet, it continued, nonetheless.
The main ideal for a capital city was based off of continental models. While Luoyang may have been the more active capital, the western capital of the Tang dynasty, at Chang’an—modern Xi’an—appears to have been a more quintessential capital city layout, and may have been what the Yamato capital was attempting to mimic—though they may have also been relying on the theoretical Confucian model, as well. In fact, I tend to think that the Confucian model was closer to this first attempt at a permanent capital. Early on, excavations assumed that the palace structures were towards the northern end of the city, but further investigations have suggested that the scale of Fujiwara-kyo was much more ambitious, and some maps of the area place the palace towards the center of the city. Either way, there were several key things about the capital and how it mimicked the continental models. One of the primary things that Yamato had appropriated from across the strait was the north-south orientation of the palace, with the main audience hall facing south, so as to get the sun. This meant that, from the point of view of the sovereign in that hall, the left side would be the east and the right side would be to the west. And so the capital city was divided into a left and right, east and west, and each half had its own administrator responsible for taxation, public safety, and general law and order. They were, as I said, similar to the governors of the various provinces in the scope of their powers, except that they oversaw the capital city.
The building of the Fujiwara capital is perhaps one of the most obvious changes that Uno no Sarara was overseeing. As I’ve mentioned before, it was a physical manifestation of court. The three sacred mountains which were included within the boundaries of the capital were woven into the myths and legends that would find their way into the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki. The size and scale of the earthworks and the stones laid as foundation demonstrate that this was clearly meant to be a permanent capital, overturning the idea that there would be a huge change every time a sovereign passed away. Instead, there would be consistency. The order of the state would go on.
Later we’ll talk about reasons why the Fujiwara capital was abandoned. For now, though, let’s look at what we see about its construction.
In 690, the same year that Uno ascended to the throne, Royal Prince Takechi, Ohoama’s oldest son, inspected the site where the new Fujiwara palace was to be placed. Two months later, Uno no Sarara came out to see it for herself. I imagine this as being the point where the land had been cleared, and they could see the mountains and the placement and get an idea of the overall size of what they were looking for. With royal approval, the project continued.
A year later, in 691, officials were sent to perform the Chin-sai, the pacification ceremony, for the new capital. Today, this is a common ceremony, known as a Jichin-sai, or Earth Pacification Ceremony, done before undertaking a construction project. Theoretically it is before breaking ground on the project, though there is often some amount of preparation that has to be done in preparation. The idea for the Jichin-sai is to effectively negotiate with the spirits of the land before disturbing the area, a recognition that the process of construction is going to alter the natural landscape. As such, one wants to propitiate the spirits and the kami that are on the land to ensure that the construction is successful. This was likely a much older ritual, but this is the first mention we have of it in the record. This ceremony was also apparently directed at the new capital as a whole, while a year later another ceremony was held specifically for the new palace complex. In the intervening time we see the court laying out the roads and giving land for the various mansions of court nobles, like Tajihi no Shima’s four chou of land—roughly ten acres. Those of Jikikwoni rank and above were given two chou, and those from Jikidaisan down were given one chou. Those of Gon rank on down would get land dependant on the number of inhabitants in their fiefs. First class fiefs would get one chou, while second class would warrant a half chou and at the bottom they would get one quarter chou. This was apparently the land that they were being given in the capital to build their personal residences. Other land was given out for markets, temples, and other necessary facilities, but this whole city really was being built from scratch.
Shortly after the pacification ceremony for the palace, officials were sent out to the major shrines of the time. This included the great gods, the Ohokami, of Ise, Yamato, Sumiyoshi, and Kii. So not just the local kami, but also the larger kami who were seen as the kami of the archipelago more generally.
It would still take another year to build the palace. Uno visited the site a few times during the construction, with her last visit just a quick outing on the 8th month of 693. At that point it was likely ready, though she wouldn’t formally move into the new palace until the first month of 694. Before that, though, there was one other thing that had to happen. In the 2nd month of 693 they had to rebury the bodies.
That’s right. The Fujiwara capital occupied a huge swath of the plain of what is now known as Kashihara. And that plain had been settled for centuries—all through the kofun period. And those kofun, and possibly even older funkyubo, the older mixed-use burial mounds—would have been destroyed in the making of the new capital. There also may have been plain pit burials that were dug up while laying out roads and foundations. I don’t know that there was anything approaching the size of the larger, keyhole shaped mounds, but we have no way to know for certain how many were there that had to be destroyed or moved. I also have not seen any indications of any mass reburial site—whether they opened an existing tomb or simply dug a pit in the ground somewhere. I imagine that such a find would be incredible, but unless archaeologists stumble upon it, I guess we’ll never know. Still, it is interesting, and almost poetic as we move further and further from the kofun period, this feels like the final nail in the proverbial coffin, if you’ll forgive the pun. Indeed, when Uno no Sarara finally passes away, she will become one of the first sovereigns to be cremated, with her ashes and burnt remains then deposited in the existing tomb with her husband, Ohoama, rather than having a new mounded tomb built. Buddhist style cremation would eventually become commonplace throughout the archipelago, though sovereigns would still have special mausoleums built for their memory, it really was a change from the ancient practices.
From 694 onward, the court would meet at the new Fujiwara Palace. Compared to previous palaces, I can only imagine how impressive this one must have seemed. Based on what we can tell, it was likely built much more in the continental style. Previous palaces had largely been in the style of the archipelago, with what we believe was plain wood and a thatched roof. The Fujiwara palace was likely a mix, but with more of the continental style than the previous Kiyomihara place. It also dwarfed its predecessor, at over twice the size. It was actually much closer in size and shape to the Toyosaki palace, in Naniwa. At the southern end of the palace was the Suzaku mon, the Suzaku gate, followed by the choshu-den’in, a courtyard with two buildings, one in the east and one in the west, where officials could wait and prepare for the day. From there they would be let into the Chodoin, a large court yard with four buildings on the east and west, and four more at the southernmost point. These would be where the various departments, or bureaus, would operate. There were also gates in the east and west of the Chodoin for easier access. To the north was another gate, leading to the Daigokuden, the main audience hall. This would have been quite the impressive and imposing structure—the main focus of the palace. It was in its own walled enclosure, and would have been the seat of the sumera Mikoto, or Tennou. It was both inside and apart from the Dairi, the inner palace. This was the actual residence of the sovereign and the royal family. The dairi itself occupied more land than the entire Kiyomihara palace. None of the buildings exist, but we can see their footprint from the large foundation stones and there are numerous rooftiles and other architectural features that fell off or were removed and then buried, purposefully or not, allowing us to get some idea of the size and scale of the project.
And yet, it appears that this palace may not have been completed when they moved in. The entire city was likely still under construction, in fact. The main pieces were in place, but to build an entire city from scratch took a lot of work. Most of the buildings would have been built with more traditional—and less labor intensive—practices. You didn’t need a false second story gallery some thirty feet off the ground, even if you were the Minister of the Right. It was enough to have a relatively simple mansion with gardens, servants quarters, and everything else needed to keep you comfortable. That in and of itself was going to put a strain on labor and other resources.
And so it looks like some parts of the galleries and other features may not have been finished even while Uno no Sarara was there. In fact, it may not have been fully finished by the time they moved again. The Fujiwara capital, the first permanent capital city, was only occupied from 694 until about 710—less than two decades. This massive project, taking multiple years and how many people to create, would be abandoned several years later. The buildings would be torn down and moved to the new site—Heijou-kyou, in modern Nara city. And yet, the impact of Fujiwara kyou would remain.
Besides making changes to the physical landscape, Uno no Sarara was also focused on the spiritual landscape as well. Both Ohoama and Uno not only supported the Buddhist temples, building new temples and leveraging the ceremonies, but they also supported the traditional kami. During the Jinshin no Ran, Ohoama turned and addressed the kami of Ise before heading to the Fuwa barrier. Later we see a greater focus on Ise Shrine, with Saigu, the royal princesses sent to Ise Shrine as the Shrine priestess, being heavily reported. In fact, the position seems to have not been commented on much until this reign, and there is some thought that Ohoama and Uno actually instituted the practice—or at least made it a formal part of the court and the royal household. This is combined with their support of the Jingikan, the state governmental body responsible for dealing with kami matters. At this time it appears to have been even more powerful, in many ways, than the other bureaus or departments of the Great Council of State, the Dajokan.
There are plenty who argue that the preeminence of Ise was born in this period. Early Yamato worship focused more on the deity of Mt. Miwa: Ohomononushi. Sun worship seems to have also been baked into the rituals of the ethnic Wa people, but that wasn’t necessarily focused on Amaterasu—and Amaterasu was not necessarily seen as a feminine goddess. Early worship appears to focus on the deities such as Takabi Musubi, and similarly named deities. These are deities that show up in court ritual, and presumably date back to well before this period. Thanks to the fact that we get alternate stories in the Nihon Shoki, we occasionally see them take a more central role in events, such as the descent of the Heavenly Grandson, but at the same time we also see that the main throughline of the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki has placed Amaterasu more front and center in the narrative.
Ama Terasu effectively translates to something like “The Shining of Heaven”. In neither the Japanese nor Sinitic language is she particularly gendered most of the time, and this may have been a more generic name for the concept of a sun deity.   I believe it is also somewhat telling that the Ichi-no-miya, the First Shrine, or primary shrine, of Ise is not Ise Shrine, but rather Tsubaki Grand Shrine, which is the home of Sarutahiko Ohokami. Even in the Nihon Shoki, there is a narrative regarding the yata no kagami, the great mirror, that it was moved from its original location in the Nara Basin over to Ise and the shrine was then established there, marking the shrine as a relative late-comer to the region rather than marking a particularly ancient spot. The Great Kami of Ise then appears to have taken on some of the shine, pun intended, of Sarutahiko, who is no longer seen as a sun-deity, and is even placed in the way of the Heavenly Grandchild’s descent—perhaps a subtle nod to some of the tensions between the worship of one over the other.
Besides sending the Shrine Princess, the Saigu, to Ise, the sovereigns themselves made plans to go, in person. Ohoama made preparations, including purifying himself, but his trip was cancelled due to a sudden death in the palace. He is never recorded as making the trip, after that. Uno no Sarara, however, did make the trip, in 692.
This was clearly quite the production, and requires several entries in the Nihon Shoki. The first entry is in the 2nd month of the year, when she makes her intentions clear. The Court officials were set to task to prepare all the necessary clothing for the trip, which was about 3 weeks out. This likely also meant preparing the road, ensuring that there would be food, and a place for Uno no Sarara and her entourage to stay when they reached Ise. The preparations clearly had an impact, as Miwa no Ason no Takechimaro, a Chunagon, or Middle Counselor, presented a memorial to remonstrate with her majesty on the trip. He noted that they were in the middle of the agricultural season—roughly April or May by modern standards—and a royal trip would have an outsized impact on the areas where she would be traveling through. His remonstration was heard, and overruled. Uno no Sarara was determined to go. As she delegated the Prince Hirose, Tahema no Mabito no Chitoko, and Ki no Ason no Yumibari to all look after the palace while she was away, Miwa no Takechimaro reiterated his remonstration and then took a drastic step: He offered to her his cap—basically he offered to resign his rank. This was quite the step, and not from nobody.
Miwa no Takechimaro was from a prominent family. As their name suggests, they were connected to Mt. Miwa, and the worship, there. Based on what evidence we have, he was probably born around 657 CE, and when he was about 16 years old he was fighting on the side of Ohoama in the Jinshin no Ran. In particular, he was involved in the fighting near Hashihaka kofun, and then moved over to attack the Afumi forces on the Middle Road. There is evidence after that of him making his way up through the ranks, and was even one of those who offered a eulogy for Ohoama. As Chunagon, he was in a fairly powerful position in court, and giving up his court rank would mean not just a loss in status, but also giving up the income associated with that rank.
And this remonstration may be why we are told that the court commuted taxes, including forced labor, for the lands that she passed through, and she recognized the local Kuni no Miyatsuko with cap-rank. She also remitted taxes for those who had been conscripted to help from elsewhere, such as her baggage handlers, the people who built the temporary palace for her to stay in, in Ise, etc. So even if the procession to Ise had an impact, she seems to have done her best to lessen the blow.
As for Takechimaro, we don’t see him again in the Nihon Shoki, but he does show up later. He would become the governor of Nagato, and then later he is given positions such as the Mayor of the Sakyou, or Left Capital. So it would seem that either his resignation wasn’t accepted, or that he was re-hired at some later point. He would pass away in 706 CE.
By the way, there is one other notable feature about him, and you may have caught it as I went over all of this. That was the name of his uji, or clan: Miwa, or Ohomiwa.    This means he had a connection to—and possibly a vested interest in—promoting the worship at Mt. Miwa, the traditional Yamato cultic center. Nothing is outright stated, but it makes sense that someone from Miwa might be a little bit concerned with the extra attention being given to the shrine at Ise around this time—so there is that, as well.
Regardless of his intentions, it certainly seems that from that point on Ise Shrine and the deity worshipped there, Amaterasu Ohokami, would be tied to the imperial line from the late 7th century onward. Clearly the royal patronage of the shrine stepped up, and for the most part we do see a fairly regular stream of Saigu, with one slight exception: There doesn’t appear to have been one during Uno no Sarara’s reign. Ohoku no Himemiko had been sent down during the reign of Ohoama, but she was the sister to Prince Ohotsu, and appears to have returned after his death. The position appears to have remained vacant until after Uno no Sarara’s reign. It makes me wonder if she wasn’t “filling in” for the Saigu, in a way. That could, in part, explain her travels there. There also may not have been a good candidate at the time, but I find that less believable—perhaps there was no candidate that Uno trusted given the precarious position her own bloodline was in at the moment. Still, after her reign, the position of Saigu would be regularly filled by a member of the royal family through the end of the Heian period. It was interrupted by the Genpei wars, and then the practice fell into decline during the period of the Kamakura bakufu. Late Edo period pro-imperialists tried to restore the practice, but it didn’t catch back on.
Despite the apparent importance of the shrine to the royal family, it would also remain somewhat aloof. The priests of the shrine would provide the sacred mirror for ascension ceremonies, but it would be very rare for any sitting sovereign to actually pay a visit to the shrine, and, as I mentioned before, Amaterasu was not one of the deities reflected in the inner court rituals. Still, she would come to be seen as the dominant kami of the Shinto pantheon, and even today, many shrines will hold space for her as well as the primary deity; home shrines, or kamidana, will often include ofuda for Amaterasu as a central point of worship, with kami associated with one’s local shrines as well.
So there you have just a little taste of what Uno no Sarara was up to. Whether she had intended to be in this position or had it thrust onto her, she was no shrinking violet. She took control of the ship of state and set a course that would continue to influence the archipelago down to the modern day. The reforms that started with her father and husband she continued and made manifest in the physical and spiritual world. And this is only the beginning. There is more to talk about regarding Uno no Sarara’s reign, and her eventual abdication, but for that, we will have to wait until Part 2.
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.

References

Bentley, John R. (2025). Nihon Shoki: The Chronicles of Japan. ISBN 979-8-218634-67-4 pb
Teeuwen, Mark and Breen, John. (2017). A social history of the Ise shrines: divine capital. Bloomsbury Academic.
Duthie, T. (09 Jan. 2014). Man’yōshū and the Imperial Imagination in Early Japan. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004264540
Como, M. (2009). Weaving and binding : immigrant gods and female immortals in ancient Japan. University of Hawaiʻi Press.
Ooms, H. (2009). Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan: The Tenmu Dynasty, 650-800. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/8316.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN 0-80480984-4.

Episode 138: Offerings and Covenants

November 16, 2025 Joshua Badgley

Ise Shrine, the primary shrine to the sun goddess, Amaterasu. Worship of Amaterasu appears to have been ascendant during the reigns of Ōama (Temmu Tennō) and his successors, encouraged by the court and recorded in the Chronicles.

RSS

On Kami Matters

Besides the offerings to various kami and shrines, there are specific mentions of the shrines of Hirose and Tatsuta, as well as Ise Shrine.

The shrines of Hirose and Tatsuta, in the Nara basin, appear to be focused on agriculture and harvest. This includes an apparent food kami as well as weather deities. In addition, the rituals for these deities seem to be fairly well established, occurring at the same times each year.

As for Ise, we see Princess Ōku being sent to the “abstinence palace” (斎宮) to purify herself before going to Ise Shrine. This may be the first actual instance of the tradition of sending a royal princess to be the head of the shrine, as well.

The Yoshino Covenant (吉野の盟役)

Another interesting account is the record of the Yoshino Covenant, when Ōama, Uno no Sarara, and six royal princes met and agreed to support one another. The princes were:

Prince Kusakabe (草壁皇子尊)
- Eventually the Crown Prince
Prince Ōtsu (大津皇子)
Prince Takechi (高市皇子)
Prince Kawashima (河嶋皇子)
Prince Shinokabe, aka Prince Osakabe (忍壁皇子)
Prince Shiki (芝基皇子)

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 138: Offerings and Covenants

A gentle summer breeze blew through the cherry-tree-covered hills of Yoshino valley. The royal residence, a kind of summer home for the royal family, normally somewhat quiet, was suddenly abuzz with activity. The regular groundskeepers and those who tended the site throughout the year mingled with servants sent from the capital to make it ready for a royal visit. Rooms were aired out and swept. Metal fixtures were polished. The kitchen was stocked and ready to go.
It had been some years since the prince—now sovereign—had resided in the valley as an attempt to proclaim he had retired from the world. Now he was sitting at the top of the state government, but as such, he was more often than not living in the grand palace in Asuka, which he had renovated at the start of his reign. This, the Yoshino palace, was left as more of a vacation home—though “home” hardly did it justice given its majesty compared to the meager dwellings that otherwise surrounded it.
And now there was a massive royal procession on their way. Sure, it was the sovereign and his queen, and only a handful of princes, but they would each need their own quarters and likely have their own household staff that would no doubt need to be fed and housed. In such a way a “simple” outing for the royal family was so often anything but for those who had to make it happen.
And yet, such labor was much preferred to toiling in the fields, especially as the heat of the day started to rise, and the height of summer loomed large in the all-too-immediate future.

Alright, so we are in the midst of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, the brother of Naka no Ohoe, who came to power through the use of military force—purportedly used in self-defense—and the sovereign who would have a profound effect on solidifying the Ritsuryo state, as well as the Chronicles and the history of the archipelago as we know it. We’ve talked about Ohoama’s ascension to the throne, and even his first year. We mentioned how, during his reign, he rewarded those who helped him, tweaked the rank system, and we talked a bit about what we know of the clothing and the material culture of the period.
This episode, we continue looking at what occurred during Ohoama’s reign. Specifically we’ll be covering some of the ways in which Ohoama and his court were shaping the government and the structures of power to serve him and his family. This includes everything from ritual, such as making offerings to various kami, to the way that he seems to have centralized power to himself and his family, which would have lasting impacts through the Asuka and Nara periods.
First, though, a tiny little digression about silver. We start in the 3rd lunar month of the second year since Ohoama ascended the throne, or the year 674 by the western calendar. We are told that Woshiumi no Miyatsuko no Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the island that formed the main border between the archipelago and the mainland, reported that silver had been produced there for the first time, and sent in some as tribute. This is the first recorded instance of silver being produced in Japan.
At this time, silver mining was mostly limited to finding a vein of silver on the surface and digging it out as far as one could possibly go into the rock and stone. Still, silver would eventually become an important resource for the archipelago. Tsushima would continue to produce silver through modern times. Granted, production was limited until new refining techniques were introduced from Joseon Korea in the 16th century. This was just as Ming dynasty deposits were declining, and as such, silver would become a major export from the archipelago to the mainland. Indeed, by the 17th century, it is said that Japan accounted for one quarter to one third of the entire world’s silver production.
For now, however, the discovery of native silver was certainly a good start, but the Yamato court wasn’t switching to a silver coin currency just yet—rice and cloth were still the major currencies for tax and trade purposes. Still this find seems not insignificant, and clearly the chroniclers thought so as well -- as did the court. They granted Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the rank of Lower Shoukin. The silver produced by the mine was offered to the various kami of heaven and earth, and presents were made to the high ministers and others of the rank of Shoukin and above.
Now back to the Chronicles, and to the meat of what I’ll be talking about this episode.
On the 3rd day of the 8th lunar month of 674, we are told that the Royal Prince Wosakabe was sent to Isonokami shrine to polish up the divine treasures, at which point the sovereign made a rather spectacular decree: he declared that all of the precious things originally deposited in the sacred treasuries by the various houses should be returned to their descendants.
This appears to be a reference to the long-standing practice by Yamato of demanding that those they had gained some level of hegemony over turn over their sacred objects for Yamato’s keeping.    We talked about this back in episodes 19 and 29, for example, when we talked about how Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tenno, and Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tenno, had both requested treasures from Izumo and elsewhere, to be stored in the treasure house of Isonokami.
We aren’t told what all of these treasures were, but we can deduce that these were sacred treasures of the different houses and localities, much as the mirror, jewel, and sword were sacred treasures of Yamato. These were items that early on distinguished the elite class in the archipelago, and had come to be gathered in the divine store houses. You may recall how, early on, we saw mentions in the Chroncles that ships sent out to meet with others from different lands would place such treasures on a makeshift tree on the deck as a way of depicting who they were—who they represented.
It would seem that these sacred objects came to represent the divine ancestors of the elites, and so eventually were associated with the idea of power and authority. As Yamato spread its influence, possibly as much through the spiritual authority of Mt. Miwa as through its economic and military capability, it seems to have demanded that the various lands that came under its sway place their sacred treasures in Yamato’s storehouse—a powerful image of Yamato’s authority. In a sense, this was a kind of hostage situation: recognize our authority, or your most sacred treasures, representing your ancestors, will be at risk . One wonders if this isn’t part of the reason that we find buried caches of bronze ritual items, including weapons, bells, and other such things, perhaps as a means of keeping them safe from those who would steal them away.
However, in the new era of the Ritsuryo system, those objects, while still considered divine and sacred, did not hold the same value as they once had. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but this really seems to me to be particularly illustrative of the idea that the cultural imaginary of state power and authority had shifted. Yamato’s power and authority was no longer based on its role as a spiritual powerhouse as much as it was centered on the continental framework of a heavenly mandate and a system of laws and punishments.
And so, the sovereign could return the sacred items back to their descendants, because to do so did not cost him anything, and at the same time would no doubt earn him goodwill. He could appear magnanimous and, in so doing, solidify his position as the supreme hegemon of this new state. In many ways this acknowledged the importance of the divine treasures to the people and to the kami while also no doubt reinforcing Confucian stereotypes of the benevolent ruler.
More importantly, this shows how Ohoama was restructuring the rituals of the state. After all, he had the Jingikan, an entire governmental department dedicated to administering the various shrines and sacred rituals; so even if the sacred treasures were returned, they were still technically under the control of the state apparatus. We’ve already talked about the Daijosai, the Feast of First Fruits for a new reign, a central ritual to which Ohoama had added further pomp and circumstance. But as no less a scholar than Herman Ooms has written about, Ohoama also initiated the practice of ordering regular centralized offerings to not just one particular kami, but to several or even a number of kami, or shrines, at any given time. We see this in the following year, on the 23rd day of the first lunar month of 675, in an almost off-hand remark. Later, in the 10th month of 676 offerings were made to all of the “Ahimbe” kami of Heaven and Earth—that is all of kami that were part of the festival of first fruits held on the first day of the rabbit on the 11th lunar month. Offerings were also made to all of the Heavenly and Earthly kami on the second day of the year in 681.
Of course, these offerings would not just be enriching the shrines of these various kami, but it would also reflect on the various uji connected to each of those shrines, as well.
Another example of the court’s involvement in these ritual innovations appears to be the worship of the deities at Tatsuta and Hirose. The first example of that is also in 675, in the 4th month of that year. Prince Mino and Saheki no Muraji no Hirotari were sent to the Wind-gods at Tateno, in Tatsuta. Aston notes that there is a litany to the Wind-gods mentioned in the Engishiki, a 10th century collection of information on various rituals of the time, so this practice seems to have taken hold, at least enough to persist over 3 centuries later.
Also in the 4th month of 675, Hashibito no Muraji no Ohobuta and Sone no Muraji no Karainu were sent to worship the Oho-imi deity at Kahawa, in Hirose. The Oho-imi appears to be a “big abstinence” deity, whom Aston identifies with Waka’ukahime, responsible for food. Worship is again paid twice in the year 676, once in 677, then twice again in 679, continuing twice a year, almost exclusively in the 4th and 7th lunar months, through the end of the reign. Why were these particular deities chosen for special worship by the court? Ooms notes that these shrines were built downstream along the Yamato river, which, along with its tributaries, was responsible for the irrigation of the crops in the Nara basin. This mirrors, in some ways, the responsibility of rulers in the Yellow River and Yangzi river regions to help ensure the flow of the rivers while preventing devastating flooding – a very continental idea of the responsibilities of the sovereign, though expressed here with a particularly Japanese style.
Indeed, Aston associates the deity at Hirose, with the deity of food.   Likewise, the Wind-deities at Tatsuta were also related to helping to grow crops. After all, Tatsuta would have been situated near the break in the mountains that surrounds the Nara basin, where the Yamato River flows out towards the Kawachi plain. As anyone who lives near a mountain gap is no doubt familiar, those areas are notorious for channeling weather phenomena, including storms, which can bring rain, but could also bring terrible winds. So it does seem a natural point to pray for good weather for your harvest or otherwise, given the geography that made up the sovereign’s world.
We also have, in this reign, considerably more discussion of Ise than we’ve seen, previously. In 673 we have the Royal Princess Ohoku no Himemiko entering the Saigu, the Abstinence, or Purification, Palace, where she was to be purified before going to Ise, which she did in the 10th lunar month of 674. Ohoku is said to have been the first official Saiou, the unmarried royal princess sent to oversee shrine operations, of Ise Shrine. This is a practice we see at multiple shrines, although it’s most prominent at Ise. The term for the position in general is Saiou, although at Ise the royal princess would also be known as the Saiguu, after the purification palace.
Although Ohoku is said to have been the first Saiguu at Ise, this is muddied somewhat by some earlier mentions in the Chronicles. There are those who are said to have been sent as Shrine Princesses to Ise back in the time of Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko, but the process was largely discontinued—or at least rarely mentioned—until this period. There are certainly several named individuals who are said to have served the Deity of Ise previously, starting with the presumably mythical Yamato Hime, who is credited with founding the shrine. There are also various royal princesses are noted as either having served or as having been made ineligible due to their indiscretions.
However, those earlier mentions rarely go into the detail we see here —starting with the abstinence hall, where the would-be Shrine Princess must purify herself prior to approaching the shrine, a process that took some time. Certainly we first really see this put into action with Ohoku, and from that time the position of Saiguu or Saiou at Ise does appear to have been regularly filled.
That Ohoku was actually the first “Saiguu” shrine princess appears to be confirmed by the “Fusou Ryakki”, which states that the first Saiou was appointed when then Prince Ohoama, in the midst of the Jinshin war, made a prayer to Ise and offered the royal princess Ohoku no Himemiko in exchange for victory. In fact, a lot of the focus on Ise seems to stem from its apparent involvement, at the behest of either Ohoama or his consort, Uno no Sarara Hime, in the conflict.
The following year we are told that the Royal Princesses Towochi and Abe proceeded to Ise Shrine as well, though presumably just for a brief visit. Towochi, you may recall, was Ohoama’s daughter who had been married to Ohotomo, aka Koubun Tennou, whom Ohoama had defeated to take the throne. Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, half-sister to Ohoama’s queen, Uno, and would eventually go on to marry the Crown Prince, Kusakabe. That gives you some idea of the position of those were going to the shrine.
Princess Towochi herself would fall ill a few years later in 678. In fact, it was just as the sovereign himself was preparing to go pay a visit to the abstinence palace, perhaps so that he could also head out to Ise. The court had a divination to figure out when he would leave, officers had cleared the roads, and the public functionaries were in a line of procession when word came that Princess Towochi, suddenly took ill and died within the palace. This stopped everything in its tracks, and in that year there was no sacrifice made to the kami of heaven and earth. I suspect that this was in part due to mourning and in part due to the pollution more generally associated with death. Two weeks later, she was buried at Akaho, and Ohoama raised a lament for her.
Later, in 686, we are told that the Royal Princess Taki, the Princess Yamashiro no Hime, and the Lady Ishikawa were all sent to Ise Shrine, though Princess Taki returned in less than a fortnight.
Why all this focus on Ise? Remember that the Chronicles were begun in this era, and so the “truth” they would tell would be the truth that Ohoama and his immediate successors orchestrated. The focus on Amaterasu, her shrine at Ise, and the role of the sovereign as Heavenly Descendant was thus part of the overarching narrative that the Chroniclers tried to promote.
Still, hints that the focus on Ise shrine may have been something largely created in this era, however, are scattered throughout the existing literature, despite the Chroniclers’ best efforts. For one thing, it is fairly clear that early on, the focus in the Chronicles is on Mt. Miwa and the deity Ohomononushi, rather than Amaterasu. We also see the fingerprints of deities like Takami no Musubi, who in one story is the one who is actually responsible for sending the Heavenly Grandchild down to earth in the first place.
It also seems telling that Amaterasu is not mentioned in earlier court rituals. Worship of Amaterasu by the royal family takes place at Ise shrine. Meanwhile, there are various rituals preserved within the traditions of the palace that include many other, seemingly older deities.
I have also noted in the past how Ise shrine isn’t even the primary shrine of Ise no Kuni. In fact, that is claimed by Tsubaki shrine, the shrine to Saruta Hiko no Ohokami, with a separate shrine to Ame no Uzume, who are both said to have met the heavenly grandchild on his descent.
None of this is to say that Ise Jingu was brand new at the time of the Chronicles’ writing —there does seem to have been a shrine on that spot for some time, though even the Chronicles suggest that it might have been moved from a shrine originally housed in the Nara basin. It is also possible, and even likely, that the rise of Ise and Amaterasu coincided with other trends at the time. Even if the Sun Goddess had not always been centered in Yamato ritual, she was not a new deity, and it may have been the case that her prominence, and that of her shrine in Ise had been growing in prominence before this time, and so the court was now adopting that popularity for themselves. Of course, Ohoama and Uno don’t exactly spell out what they were attempting to achieve, beyond the unification of the archipelago, more broadly. How, exactly, their focus on Ise Shrine was meant to play into that I don’t know that I could fully state, but it certainly seems to have allowed the sovereign to create a new cultic focus for kami worship with a story that touched on regions from Kyushu all the way to the eastern shore of the Kii peninsula.
Given the decentralized nature of kami worship, I don’t believe it was possible to completely rewrite all of the stories—hence the numerous and conflicting accounts given in the Chronicles. However, that is also what would have made it easier to hide newly fabricated—or perhaps simply exaggerated—stories in the mix. And of course, it wasn’t necessarily that the Chroniclers were creating things out of whole cloth, but they were able to choose those things that people would remember and what would be lost and forgotten over time. They had to make the decision, for instance, which story they told was the “main” storyline, and which were listed as coming from “other books”, implying a degree of separation from the truth.
Through all of this, it certainly seems that propping up the royal family and its lineage was a central focus—even if that lineage was largely something that had recently been created. As a reminder, we see a lot heavier reliance at this point on royal princes as opposed to other elite families, and an actual or implied reliance, in particular, on the royal family, as that is where Ohoama was consolidating most of the power and authority.
Kitayama Shigeo coined the term “Koushin Seiji” to refer to this idea of a consolidated royal—or imperial—family managing the affairs of state. Literally it is something like “Imperial Family Government”.   In Shigeo’s concept this was specifically an autocratic authority executed by the sovereign, and those of his immediate family. Of course, writing in the post-war era, it is more than a little likely that Shigeo and others were looking at the concept of Tennou in the 20th century compared with many other world monarchs. In that vein, the Asuka and Nara periods do seem to have been one of the rare times—perhaps even the last time—that the sovereigns had such a direct hand in the government and the making and establishment of law and tradition.
That said, not everyone ascribes entirely to the idea that Ohoama was a completely autocratic despot—after all, it was clear that there were still plenty of powerful families in the archipelago, and the Ritsuryo state itself was also being strengthened. Still, it does seem that Ohoama had brought his queen, Uno no Sarara, and his descendants into government. And they would not only assist him, but continue his work for the next generations, such that even though the histories would not be finished until well after Ohoama’s death, they would still show his influence on events.
The dedication of the royal family to work as one is perhaps most clearly demonstrated in the events of the 5th lunar month of 679. It was then that the sovereign, and his family, proceeded to the Yoshino Palace.
Now Ohoama had plenty of offspring—among them 10 sons. And as long as he was around, there would be a certain amount of civility, but he knew all too well how things could break down after a sovereign’s death. And so he brought them together and he made them enter into a pact, which we know as the Yoshino Covenant, or Yoshino no Meiyaku. Besides Ohoama himself, there were several others in attendance, presumably those who might stand to one day inherit the realm. These included his partner and queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, as well as her son, Prince Kusakabe, who would be named Crown Prince, only a couple of years later. It also included the Royal princes Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki. All of these individuals were made to swear an oath to support each other, even though they were all from different mothers, and they agreed.
But so what? Why does it matter? It is all well and good that Ohoama brought them together for a bit of kumbaya in his old digs away from the capital, but was there anything really to this covenant.
This covenant is significant in several ways. First off, it is clear that Ohoama was pulling in his family and trying to ensure they were onboard with what he was doing and what was planned. Furthermore, it set out a clear line of succession, something that had not really been done up to this point. We have ideas on what would have made a candidate eligible, but other than naming a particular crown prince there hasn’t exactly been any clear process or rules of precedence for who would assume the throne. Here, though, we have a list that appears to be in order of precedence, since it otherwise may not seem to make sense, at least from a modern perspective.
A key clue in the Chronicles is often the order of the names. The most important or highest ranking person is usually given first, and then names are typically given in descending order of precedence. There are clues that this is the case, but it becomes even more stark when we actually see reference to an individual’s court rank or the size of their fief. Since this period brings about court rank even for royal princes, we have some of that, at least in later records. As such, there is the idea that this order was actually providing for a line of succession.

As I mentioned, up to this point, the contest for the throne was a toss up with each monarch’s death. Claims from competing princes were often considered equally valid until one proved their claim through a political or military victory. Ohoama appears to have been trying to add greater structure to this. Specifically, we see that Uno no Sarara’s son, Kusakabe, is given pride of place. In fact, throughout the Chronicle it is typical that we see the Chroniclers designate a queen—a Kougou—that is considered the primary wife. This queen is almost always found to be the descendant of previous royalty, granting their child a doubly royal lineage, through both the maternal and paternal lines.   There has been plenty of reason to doubt that this was actually the case, and it often seems like the Chroniclers stretched things more than a bit to make it all work out. However, now we are almost more concerned with the very truth that the Chroniclers were attempting to burn into the social consciousness rather than the historical facts, because that gives us direct insight into how the court of the day viewed succession and legitimacy.And that does lead to another possible thought: since the Chroniclers knew how things turned out it is possible that they were the ones ensuring that the order was as we have it. So we cannot definitively say that this exactly mirrors’s Ohoama’s idea, but it certainly seems in line with his history and intentions and helps set the stage for us, at least, regarding what would later transpire in regards to succession..
Getting back to the covenant, as I noted, the first person listed, after Ohoama and Uno no Sarara Hime, is Prince Kusakabe. He would be about 17 or 18 years old at this time, which is probably why he wasn’t formally named Crown Prince until a couple of years later. He isn’t the eldest son, however. Rather he was the second son. Ohoama’s eldest son, Prince Takechi, was actually third in line. Takechihad been with his father helping to lead the troops during the Jinshin War. While he was some 8 years senior to Kusakabe, he was nonetheless a son of Amago no Musume, one of Ohoama’s consorts from a powerful clan, but not a royal princess like Uno no Sarara, Kusakabe’s mother.
Between Kusakabe and Takechi, in the second place spot for succession, was actually Prince Ohotsu, whom we also mentioned during the Jinshin War. Ohotsu was likely 16-17 years old around this time. While he was the third eldest child, he, like Kusakabe, was the son of a Royal Princess, Princess Ota, daughter of Naka no Oe, giving him greater bonafides than Takechi, apparently.
So, in the top three slots, we have: Ohoama’s eldest son by a royal mother, Ohoama’s second eldest son by a royal mother, and finally Ohoama’s eldest son by a non-royal mother.
Fourth in line, and the 4th eldest, presumably, though I don’t know that we have an actual age for him, is Prince Wosakabe. He likely wasn’t too young, however, as he had been given the task, previously, to polish the divine treasures in Isonokami’s storehouse.
It would appear that six of Ohoama’s other sons didn’t even get a mention. That includes Princes Naga and Yuge, born to another daughter of Naka no Ohoe, Ohoye no Himemiko. Then there is Prince Toneri, son of Royal Princess Nittabe, not to be confused with Royal Prince Nittabe, Ohoama’s son by way of a daughter of Fujiwara no Kamatari. Finally there was Royal Prince Hodzumi, a maternal grandson of Soga no Akaye, and Prince Shiki, a full brother to Prince Wosakabe.
Prince Toneri is particularly conspicuous in his absence. We know that he held the 5th rank, and two positions in government—that of Nagon, or Councillor, as well as the Minister of the Household, our Kunaikyou. This may be because he was not doing so well. We aren’t told the story until the following year, on the 2nd day of the 7th lunar month of 680, when we are told that Prince Toneri took ill and was on the point of death. His half-brother, Prince Takechi, went to check on him, and a day later Toneri passed away. The way these are written it would be easy to believe that it all happened in a pretty short timeframe, but it is also just as likely that illness lingered, especially without modern medicine. So it is possible that Prince Toneri was too sick at the time of the original covenant, though there could be some other reason we weren’t told.
This doesn’t necessarily hold for all of the others, though. For instance, we have the Princes Naga and Yuge mentioned in 693, well over a decade later, being granted the 2nd Broader Pure Rank at the same time that Prince Takechi is granted the 1st Broader Pure Rank. So we can at least see that they were ranked below Takechi.   Similarly we see Prince Hodzumi likewise attained 2nd Broader Pure Rank at some point, and was still around to have his own fief and to receive houses to it in the following reign. Hozumi even ranked above some of the others were in Yoshino, and yet was not present.
It is possible that the princes not mentioned, assuming they had not met with an untimely end that was not mentioned in the record somewhere, could have been too young or too junior at the time of the meeting. After all, when we look at the known ages of those who were there, we see that Prince Takechi may have been 25 years old, but Prince Kusakabe and Prince Otsu were just under 20, and it is unclear if others were older or younger than they were.
There are two other princes who were part of the covenant who were not, perhaps surprisingly, sons of Ohoama. Rather they were his nephews, sons of Ohoama’s brother, Naka no Ohoe. They were the princes Kawashima and Shiki.
Kawashima is mentioned several times throughout the record. Kawashima’s mother was from a high ranking noble family, but given that Kawashima was married to his cousin, one of Ohoama’s daughters, that may have brought him closer to the family. He was about 22 years old at the time, too. We see him often teaming up with Prince Osakabe on various projects, including the project to compile together the history of the royal household. In fact, Prince Kawashima always precedes Prince Osakabe when they are mentioned together. That said, we have evidence of Kawashima only being awarded up to 3rd Greater Pure rank, below even that of some who were not present, such as Prince Hodzumi. His importance and impact, however, is noted through his numerous appearances in the record.
In contrast, Prince Shiki has almost no mentions in the record. It doesn’t help that there are two Princes Shiki, one born to Naka no Ohoye and one born to Ohoama. Their names are spelled differently, however, and although the first character of “Shiki” used in the Yoshino record matches neither name, the second character suggests that this was the son of Naka no Ohoye and not the Shiki that was brother to Prince Osakabe—though given that one followed the other in the record, there may have been some confusion on this point.
And with all of that we have our apparent line of succession, as well as an idea of who the movers and shakers might be within the royal family. From Ohoama and Uno no Sarara, we have Princes Kusakabe, Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki. Six princes, four directly descended from the current sovereign, Ohoama, and two from the Naka no Ohoe lineage.
Obviously, promoting the idea of a strictly patrilineal succession of father to son would have caused some problems for Ohoama’s own legitimacy, not that anyone was going to gainsay him while he was on the throne. However, with Kusakabe they seem to have established that in a de facto format, at least. Furthermore it provided a blueprint for succession might fall to the other lines should the main line not work out. This put Prince Ohotsu as next in line, should anything happen to Kusakabe, followed by Takechi. That Kawashima may have had a shot over Osakabe and then Shiki is interesting as it suggests that it wasn’t strictly about who descended from whom.
We’ll have to wait for Ohoama’s death before we can fully appreciate how well this worked, of course. Throughout history, agreements and covenants amongst powerful interests are often only as permanent as long as all of the interests remain aligned with one another, whether through mutual benefit or threat of consequences. Once the power shifts, as it always does, those promises and treaties are almost always up for renegotiation, unless they are supported by some higher authority, whatever that might be.
Following the royal family’s off-site, they returned to the palace in Asuka. There they had a formal ceremony in the Great Hall, the Ohodono, where the six princes all demonstrated their allegiance and paid respects to Ohoama. Given the timing of this event, one can likely assume that it was a kind of public acknowledgement of the covenant and the agreement that they would all be working together as a united front on the project of the government.
And with that, I think we can bring it to a close for now. There is plenty more about this reign to discuss before we move on, but we’ll get there.
Until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Bentley, John R. (2025). Nihon Shoki: The Chronicles of Japan. ISBN 979-8-218634-67-4 pb
宮崎, 健司. (2025). 地図でスッと頭に入る飛鳥・奈良時代. 株式会社昭文社.
Teeuwen, Mark and Breen, John. (2017). A social history of the Ise shrines: divine capital. Bloomsbury Academic.
Como, M. (2009). Weaving and binding : immigrant gods and female immortals in ancient Japan. University of Hawaiʻi Press.
Ooms, H. (2009). Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan: The Tenmu Dynasty, 650-800. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/8316.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4.

Episode 37: Badass Women of Ancient Japan

March 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Ame no Uzume, whom we didn’t get to in this episode, but another badass woman. Not only did her dancing bring back the sun, Amaterasu Ōkami, and give life to the world, but when Ninigi no Mikoto was heading down to earth and the way was blocked by the giant Saruta Hiko Ōkami. Who went forward to confront him? Why, Ame no Uzume, of course. Detail of Iwato Kagura no Kigen by Shunsai Toshimasa, 1887.

RSS

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
KISHIMOTO, Naofumi (2013, May). Translated by Ryan, Joseph. Dual Kingship in the Kofun Period as Seen from the Keyhole Tombs. UrbanScope e-Journal of the Urban-Culture Research Center, OCU, Vol.4 (2013) 1-21. ISSN 2185-2889 http://urbanscope.lit.osaka-cu.ac.jp/journal/vol.004.html
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Piggot, J. R. (1999). Chieftain Pairs and Corulers: Female Sovereignty in Early Japan. Women and Class in Japanese History. Edited by Hitomi Tonomura, Anne Walthall, and Wakita Haruko. Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan. ISBN 1-929280-35-1.
Aoki, Michiko Yamaguchi (1997). Records of Wind and Earth: A Translation of Fudoki with Introduction and Commentaries. As published at https://jhti.berkeley.edu
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Early Life

The Jinshin no Ran and Ōama’s reign

Kiyomihara Codes

Fujiwara-kyō

Amaterasu and Ise Shrine

Rough Transcript

References

On Kami Matters

The Yoshino Covenant (吉野の盟役)

Rough Transcript

References

Rough Transcript

References