Episode 150: Nobles of Jitou Tennou’s Court

June 1, 2026 Joshua Badgley

7th century stone sculpture of a man and a woman from the Asuka Historical Museum. The Chronicles focus on the royal family, but the court and larger state were made up of people. Photo by author.

This episode we discuss some of the various nobles at court

Yakuchi no Ason on Otokashi (八口朝臣音橿)

A noble of Jiki-ko-shi (直廣肆) rank. He was one of those named in the conspiracy of Prince Ōtsu. We don’t have much more information on him.

Iki no Muraji no Hakatoko (壱伎連博徳)

Another noble named in the Prince Ōtsu conspiracy. He is mentioned under the old rank system’s Lower Shōsen rank. Hakatoko had been to the Tang court and had been an escort envoy for a Tang embassy. He was later trusted to go to Silla to represent Yamato as a vice-envoy, by which time he was Mu-dai-ni rank. He would work on the Taihō Code, with no more mention in the records after 703.

Nakatomi no Ason no Omimaro (中臣朝臣臣麻呂)

Said to be the son of Kunitari, cousin to Nakatomi no Kamatari. Omimaro is thought to have been adopted by Kamatari as Kamatari’s biological son, Fubito, was still underage. He was likely impacted by the fact that Nakatomi no Kane was one of the leaders of the Afumi court, and on the losing side of the Jinshin no Ran. He was also implicated in the conspiracy around Prince Ōtsu. Nonetheless he was made a judge and eventually received the rank of Jiki-kō-shi rank. He is sometimes called Fujiwara no Omimaro, as the Fujiwara name had been bestowed on Kamatari’s family, which theoretically extended it to all of the Nakatomi at this time. He passed away in 711.

Kose no Ason no Tayasu (巨勢朝臣多益須)

Also named in the Prince Ōtsu conspiracy, he was likewise made a judge and also awarded the rank of Jiki-kō-shi. He was also made a “commissioner of good words” and would become the head of the Ministry of Ceremonies (Shikibu-shō) as well as a secretary to the Viceroy of Tsukushi as the Dazai Daini. He passed away in 710.

Fuse no Ason no Miushi (布勢朝臣御主人)

Also transliterated by Aston as “Miaruji”. He was the son of the former Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, Abe no Uchimaro, and was part of the Fuse no Abe, one of the two houses into which the Abe had been split. He served Ōama during the Jinshin no Ran and pronounced a eulogy for him as a Nagon on behalf of the Great Council of State—the Dajō-kan. In fact, he performed several eulogies, and even presented the congratulations to the Queen on her ascension. He received Jiki Dai Ichi rank, along with 80 households, bringing his total up to 300. He was later raised to Shō-kō-shi and acknowledged as the senior member—or head of household—for the Fuse no Abe. He was later given 80 retainers and would go on to become Dainagon and, eventually, Udaijin, minister of the Right.

Ōtomo no Ason no Miyuki (大伴宿禰御行)

Born 646 to Ōtomo no Nagatoko, the Udaijin, or Minister of the Right, under Naka no Ōe. The Ōtomo fought for Ōama at the Jinshin no Ran, and he was made Tayu. he would later recite eulogies with Fuse no Miushi, and the two would rise in rank, together. He also held the position of Dainagon, but in the year that Miushi was given the position of Udaijin, Miyuki passed away. He was posthumously granted the position of Udaijin in the period between the death of the previous Minister of the Right and Miushi taking the job.

Rank and Court Clothing

Per the edict of 690, we see the tiers of rank and appropriate clothing. For colors for different periods, you can also check out our color charts.

  
    
	Rank		Robe Color		Gauze		Other	
	Jodaichi		Dark Purple 
 黒紫 
 (Kuro Murasaki) 		Silk Gauze of 1 breadth and 1 kind		Obi of variegated silk and white trousers.	
	Jokwoichi
	Jodaini	
	Jokwoni	
	Jodaisan			Bright Purple 
 赤紫 
 (Aka Murasaki) 		Silk Gauze of 1 breadth and 2 kinds	
	Jokwosan	
	Jodaishi	
	Jokwoshi	
	Shodaiichi			Bright Purple 
 赤紫 
 (Aka Murasaki)	
	Shokwoichi	
	Shodaini	
	Shokwoni	
	Shodaisan	
	Shokwosan	
	Shodaishi	
	Shokwoshi	
	Jikidaichi			Dark Red 
 緋 
 (Ake)	
	Jikikwoichi	
	Jikidaini	
	Jikikwoni	
	Jikidaisan	
	Jikikwosan	
	Jikidaishi	
	Jikikwoshi	
	Gondaichi			Dark Green	
 深緑 
 (Fukaki Midori)  NA 
	Gonkwoichi	
	Gondaini	
	Gonkwoni	
	Gondaisan	
	Gonkwosan	
	Gondaishi	
	Gonkwoshi	
	Mudaiichi			Light Green	
 淺緑 
 (Asa Midori)
	Mukwoichi	
	Mudaini	
	Mukwoni	
	Mudaisan	
	Mukwosan	
	Mudaishi	
	Mukwoshi	
	Tsuidaiichi			Deep Blue 
 深縹 
 (Fukaki Hanada)	
	Tsuikwoichi	
	Tsuidaini	
	Tsuikwoni	
	Tsuidaisan	
	Tsuikwosan	
	Tsuidaishi	
	Tsuikwoshi	
	Shindaiichi			Light Blue 
 淺縹 
 (Asa Hanada)	
	Shinkwoichi	
	Shindaini	
	Shinkwoni	
	Shindaisan	
	Shinkwosan	
	Shindaishi	
	Shinkwoshi	


  

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.

References

Bentley, John R. (2025). Nihon Shoki: The Chronicles of Japan. ISBN 979-8-218634-67-4 pb
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN 0-80480984-4.

Episode 149: Kings, Queens, and an Empress

May 16, 2026 Joshua Badgley

Photo of one of the tombs at the Qianling mausoleum in Xi’an, where Emperor Tang Gaozong, Empress Wu Zhao, and many other members of the royal Li family are buried. You can see the murals on the wall and architectural details, which give us key insights into the life of people in the Tang dynasty in the late 7th and early 8th century. Photo by author.

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So Uno no Sarara, aka Jitō Tennō, was going to rule after her husband passed away, but what was happening on the mainland? Well, for one thing, Silla had taken de facto control of the southern half of the peninsula, and we would see some powerful women in charge both in Silla and in the Tang capital at Luoyang. In fact, we have one of the arguably most powerful women in Chinese history: Wu Zhao, aka Wu Zetian, the only woman to formally sit upon the imperial throne unchallenged. It was quite the period in history.

Silla

King Munmu of Silla

Born in 626, he came to the throne in 661, in the midst of the Silla-Tang alliance and their wars against Baekje and Goguryeo. Once Baekje and Goguryeo were conquered, however, King Munmu went to war against their former ally to avoid subjugation and to attempt to consolidate their hold on the peninsula. To do this, he also sided with Goguryeo rebels who were seeking to restore their own kingdom.

He passed away in 681, turning over control of Silla to his son, who became known as King Sinmun

King Sinmun of Silla

King Sinmun ruled for a decade, during which time he worked to centralize authority and to secure the peninsula against the Tang forces. That said, he did keep up relations with the Tang, and was even enfeoffed by them as ruler of Silla.

He died in 691 and was succeeded by his five year old son.

King Hyoso and Queen Sinmok

King Hyoso ascended the throne at the age of 5 and would go on to rule until 702. However, given his age, the majority of his reign was actually under the regency of his mother, Queen Sinmok. She continued the work of her late husband, King Sinmun. Queen Sinmok passed away in 700, several years after the reign of Uno no Sarara would come to an end.

Silla Rank System

This episode we talk a lot about the Silla Bone Rank System. The issue with this is that most of what we know is from the Samguk Sagi, and it seems to capture the system at a particular time. But based on the names we see in the Nihon Shoki, it seems that either the names changed or the Yamato court wasn’t writing them down the same way. There are sources that suggest translations, and we still have some general idea of the order, at least.

The Bone Rank system was broken up by families. Certain families were in a given class, and certain ranks and governmental positions were only open to members of that class. There was some overlap, but effectively it meant that the upper ranks of government were closed off to certain families. This led to a very rigid and inflexible system that would last until the 10th century, when the Silla Kingdom fell to the kingdom of Goryeo, a successor state to Goguryeo.

Great Tang

Tang Gaozong

Successor to Tang Taizong, Gaozong was the emperor of the Tang Dynasty from 649-683. Through much of his reign he shared power with powerful ministers and, eventually, with his wife, Empress Wu Zhao. It is unclear how much he was doing by the end of his life, and how much Empress Wu was doing on his behalf.

Tang Zhongzong

Third eldest son of Gaozong and Wu Zhao, Zhongzong was married to his wife, known as Empress Wei. Zhongzong came to the throne, but showed signs of being more faithful to his wife than to his mother, and so was forced to abdicate only 6 weeks into his reign. He was succeed by his younger brother. He would eventually return to the throne after the death of his mother, Empress Wu.

Tang Ruizong

Ruizong’s rule is described as little more than a puppet government. It is said that Empress Dowager Wu openly sat on the dais with him and whispered responses and edicts to him, openly. He never moved into the royal apartments, which his mother continued to control, and we are told that he was not allowed to have unsupervised contact with the various ministers and officials. He eventually abdicated in favor of his mother.

Wu Zhao, aka Wu Zetian

Wu Zhao originally came to the Tang court as a consort of Tang Taizong, but later married his son, Tang Gaozong, and was made Empress. After her husband’s death she spent some time as a regent during the reigns of her sons, but eventually discarded any pretense and ruled openly. She is said to be the only truly regnant empress in her own right in all of Chinese history.

Wu Zhao is often maligned in the histories that were written about her, but these were written by writers who supported a very patriarchal philosophy. Thus her reign was seen by them as an aberration, and things that may have been excused for a reigning emperor were considered improper by an empress. Unfortunately, there is not a lot of contemporary evidence to counter the narrative that was written, which means we have to take a lot of what we hear with a grain of salt.

Lai Junchen

Lai Junchen worked for Wu Zhao as a minister in her secret police force, which aimed to root out disloyalty to the crown, and thus to the state. Lai Junchen is remember for making false accusations and having numerous people, including court ministers, executed. He was powerful and ruled through fear.

One of the officials he targeted was the famous Di Renjie. Di Renjie was able to get a message out while he was in prison awaiting execution, which then made its way to Empress Wu Zhao. Along with other officials who also mentioned Lai Junchen’s overreach, Wu Zhao commuted the sentence of execution to exile, instead.

Lai Junchen’s power after that was diminished for a time, but he was still ambitious. He went after various princes and preincesses of the Li and Wu families. The Li were the royal family of the Tang emperors, and the Wu were the family of Wu Zhao. Lai Junchen’s plot to accuse them was discovered and they accused him first, eventually bringing about his own execution.

Di Renjie

While barely even tangential to our story, Di Renjie has become quite famous. Not only did he escape the schemes of Lai Junchen, but he eventually worked his way back into the good graces of the Empress Wu and the court, regaining some amount of status.

Di Renjie is remembered by many due to an 18th or 19th century fictional character based on him, known to us as Judge Dee. Judge Dee has been described as the “Chinese Sherlock Holmes”, and he was made particularly famous by the 20th century ambassador, scholar, and author, Robert van Gulik, who translated several of the stories about him and various cases, and wrote numerous others.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 149: Kings, Queen, and an Empress
Uno no Sarara and her son, Crown Prince Kusakabe, sat in court. The trappings of the recent mourning period had been put aside with the recent burial of Uno’s husband, Ohoama, and they were now preparing for Crown Prince Kusakabe’s coronation. However, the matter in front of them had nothing to do with that. Instead, they listened to an official recounting of what had transpired on the peninsula. The court had explicitly sent an envoy to Silla to inform them of Ohoama’s death, but it took much longer than it should have for Norimaro and his party to return. There had even been an envoy mission from Silla while they were away.
As Uno no Sarara listened intently, she found it harder and harder to keep her emotions in check. She listened as the story of the Yamato mission was told, and as she heard of how her messengers were treated—how they weren’t even allowed to tell the Silla court their news all because someone in Silla had decided that they weren’t appropriate ambassadors.
Silla had finally come to learn of Ohoama’s death, and the mission returned home, but this treatment was inexcusable. These were not just Yamato’s messengers, they were carrying the royal word of Queen Uno no Sarara, head of the state and de facto ruler as they mourned the loss of her husband and predecessor. To have them kept waiting because of some invented protocol was an affront to the nation, but it was also an affront to her.
This.
Would.
Not.
Do...

Greetings, everyone! Thank you once again for tuning in. As you may recall, last episode we covered the ceremonies around the death and burial of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, as well as the unceremonious death of Crown Prince Kusakabe, leading to the throne being taken by his mother, Queen Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.
One aspect of everything that was going on was the relations with the continent. This included missions from Yamato to the continent—especially those involved with communicating information about the changes in the Yamato court. So this episode I thought we could look at some of the things we see in the record and go over where things sat with regards to the continent.
First things first, let’s brush up on where we left off. Back in episode 140 we talked about how the Silla-Tang alliance had broken down. With Baekje and Goguryeo both defeated, the Tang had set up commanderies to oversea captured territory in both kingdoms, and even though Emperor Tang Taizong had promised Silla suzerainty over Baekje, his successor, Gaozong, had not adhered to that agreement. In response, and with the help of Goguryeo rebels, Kind Munmu of Silla had fought back against the Tang forces, eventually consolidating everything south of the Taedong river, approximating the extent of the modern country of South Korea.
Meanwhile, Goguryeo rebels continued to trouble the Tang, and King Bojang set up by the Tang dynasty would eventually betray them, allying with the northern Malgal people. They would continue to fight to restore their sovereignty. With pressure from Silla and Goguryeo, the Tang commandery pulled back from Pyongyang to Liaoyang—effectively putting the mountainous regions at the head of the Korean peninsula between them and their enemies. Silla control was de facto, but would not be recognized formally by the Tang dynasty until the early 8th century. That didn’t meant they were completely at odds, however. Silla would resume diplomatic mission to the Tang, despite their territorial disagreements.
Silla’s King Munmu, who had pushed back against the Tang, was succeed by his son, known as King Sinmun. Sinmun had been Crown Prince during the wars against Baekje and Goguryeo. Much as Ohoama and Uno no Sarara had been doing on the archipelago, he was working to centralize royal authority in Silla.
In 681, as Silla was still mourning the death of King Munmu, a rebellion broke out. It was led by a high ranking Silla official, and father-in-law to Sinmun, Kim Humdol. It was quickly put down, and Kim Humdol and other officials who were implicated were executed. This was actually a golden opportunity for the new King Sinmun to help purge the court of any rivals or ministers with less than absolute dedication to his plan to centralize authority.
I kind of get the feeling that, for all of the past conflicts between their nations, Sinmun, Ohoama, and Uno might have gotten along quite well. However, that didn’t stop the fact that they were rulers of rival nations, and while they may have had similar concepts of leadership, they also were focused on their own rule and authority.
To that end, Sinmun also reached out to the Tang court with tribute missions, and in so doing was at least recognized by the Tang court, who enfeoffed him as King of Silla. This appears to have been a bit of polite fiction, but that was how a lot of this operated, ultimately. King Sinmun would have held power in Silla regardless of the Tang court’s approval, but the fiction that the court had bestowed his authority no doubt provided some diplomatic benefits, and a context within which to operate on the international stage. It also no doubt allowed for increased trade, bringing in exotic and high status items, which would have been useful for boosting approval ratings back home.
King Sinmun ruled until his death in 691. He was succeeded by his son, known as King Hyoso. However, Hyoso was young—about 5 years old when he took the throne. And so his mother, Queen Sinmok, acted as regent for much of his reign—right up until her death in 700. Hyoso ended up reigning for a decade, until 702, meaning that he and his mother reigned throughout Uno no Sarara’s period as sovereign in Yamato.
Hyoso’s reign saw continued progress towards centralization of authority, as well as improved relationships with the Tang court. Silla maintained diplomatic ties and tribute missions, and the Tang court conferred recognition on Hyoso as the King of Silla, in return.
Speaking of the Tang Court, Emperor Tang Gaozong passed away before Ohoama had, departing this world in 683. However, for all that he was the emperor, he had not really been the one running things for some time. Gaozong came to the throne at roughly 21 years of age, and throughout most of his reign he had to share power with others in the court. Originally this meant high ranking minister, but there was also his wife, Wu Zhao, aka Wu Zetian. Wu had been a consort under Tang Taizong, and then continued as a consort for Gaozong as well. Then, in 655, she was officially made empress.
In 660, Gaozong began to suffer from an unknown illness, characterized by headaches, dizziness, , and occasional seizures and loss of vision. Some have suggested it was a stroke or some form of hypertension. Either way, these symptoms would plague him for the rest of his reign, and so he began to delegate more and more authority to Wu Zhao, who would handle things on his behalf.
Thus, Wu was effectively already running things by the time of Gaozong’s death in 683. At that point, she became the Empress Dowager, and her third son became emperor Zhongzong—at least in name. Because Wu Zhao maintained all of the power and authority at court. She was, in fact, the regent, and a mere six weeks after Zhongzong took the throne he was removed by his own mother. It seems that Zhongzong, who came to the throne at the age of 28, was showing signs of being a little too much under the influence of his wife, Empress Wei. In fact, he is said to have considered giving her the Empire. And so Wu had him deposed and exiled. She then had his younger brother made Emperor Ruizong, though still under Wu Zhao’s term as regent.
Ruizong was about 22 when he took the throne under his mother in 684. He would continue to reign until 690, when he abdicated the throne in favor of his mother. From that point on, Wu Zhao ruled as the sovereign for another 15 years, until the year 705, declaring it a return of the ancient Zhou dynasty. In other words, for all of Uno no Sarara’s reign in Yamato, another woman, Wu Zhao, sat atop the traditionally patriarchal seat of power in the Tang—and later Zhou—court.
Wu Zhao is more commonly known to us, today, as Wu Zetian. This comes from her final title as reigning monarch: Zetian Dasheng Huangdi, or Heaven-following Great Holy Emperor. She is often depicted as a ruthless and politically savvy ruler who usurped the throne through her feminine wiles and violence. We see how she dethroned her own son to avoid him giving up the throne to his wife. She is also said to have had another son killed because of her ambitions, and is even accused of killing her own daughter just to blame a rival at court. She is also depicted performing plenty of other unflattering acts.
Of course, it is worth noting that she was not the one to write her own history. After her reign, her epitaph was inscribed by her own political rivals.   It is notable that she is the only Empress to be recognized as ruling in her own right in the entire history of China. Certainly there were others who reigned as regents, and women with tremendous power and influence, but none of them really held the throne uncontested.
Given the animosity of the authors who wrote about her reign, we have to take anything we hear about Wu Zhao with a bit of salt. On the other hand, Tang dynasty imperial politics were ruthless, and you didn’t get to the top because you had a charming demeanor.   While there is no doubt more than a little slander written into the history books, one only has to look at the men who ruled before and after her to wonder whether she really did anything that was so much better or worse than what they did. Just keep that in mind as we go through some of what she was accused of.
Now what we are told is that with her younger son, Emperor Ruizong, she was only nominally pretending to be regent. She didn’t bother to hide behind a screen with him out front and we are told she openly whispered answers and commands that Ruizong would immediately parrot. Ruizong never moved into the imperial suites of the palace, which his mother maintained. Ruizong didn’t even attend imperial functions, and officials were not allowed to meet with him privately.
An uprising in Yang state was said to be in part because of her rule, and it was suggested that she should step aside and let her son truly rule to restore confidence, but she was having none of it and had those who suggested it arrested. Later, she would institute post boxes around government buildings for people to snitch on those around them who might be disloyal, and she instituted secret police, who investigated various rumors and false accusations with torture, leading to numerous executions.
In 685 she is said to have had an affair with a Buddhst monk, Huaiyi, who was then conferred with various honors. Then, in 686, she offered to return the throne to Ruizong, but Ruizong, realizing that there was no way she would let go of power, saw it as a test of his obedience, and declined. In 688 she summoned senior members of the Li Family, the family of the Tang emperors, under the pretense of making sacrifices to the spirit of the Luo river, which flowed through the Eastern Capital of Luoyang. Several of the Princes of the Li house were worried that she was going to slaughter them all, Red Wedding style, if they showed up, in order to secure the throne to herself, and so they plotted to rebel, but coordination was not the greatest back then, and two princes rose up before the others were ready. They were crushed, and many other members of the Li family were implicated, arrested, and forced to commit suicide.
In 690, she completely did away with any dissembling and declared a new dynasty—the Zhou dynasty—declaring herself Shengshen Huangdi, or Holy Divine Emperor of the Zhou dynasty. And yes, this is the same Zhou as the ancient Zhou dynasty—she was apparently claiming descent from the ancient rulers of Zhou.
Her son was thus deposed and she ruled uncontested from 690 until her death in705. She would go by various names. Three years in and she would add “Jinlun”, or “Golden Wheel” to her title, referring to the Buddhist concept of a Chakravartin, or Golden Wheel Turning Monarch.
This latter title came in part as she is said to have elevated the foreign religion of Buddhism over the native Taoist religion. She is also said to have built numerous temples around the capital cities and elsewhere.
In 692, the rising power of the secret police appeared to have been halted. One of the officials in charge, Lai Junchen, attempted to have a handful of officials executed for false accusastions. He told them that if they confessed to the accusations, their lives would be spared, and so many of them confessed to the false accusations, but Junchen conspired to have them executed anyway. One of the officials was none other than the famous Di Renjie. Renjie wrote a petition on his blanket and then hid that with the laundry that he sent to his family when it was time to change from winter to summer robes. His family found it and submitted the petition to Wu Zhao, who became suspicious of Junchen. For his part, Junchen has submitted forged petitions from the prisoners, thanking Empress Wu for preparing to execute them.
Other accusations against Junchen’s methods came to light, and so Empress Wu interrogated the prisoners personally. They all disavowed their confessions, and so Wu commuted their sentences from death to exile. Junchen continued to operate until 697, but there seems to have been a notable decrease in the number of executions after that point. He would eventually go too far, and planning to accuse the Li and Wu princes and princesses of treason, but they acted first and he ended up being executed. Without Lai Junchen, the secret police seem to have largely fallen apart.
As for Di Renjie, he eventually worked his way back into the good graces of Wu and the court, eventually being recalled to Luoyang to serve. Di Renjie’s own legend grew, and in the 18th or 19th century he was recast as a kind of Tang dynasty detective in the historical crime drama genre popular at the time. The book, “Di Gong An”, or “Celebrated Cases of Judge Dee”, was found by a Dutch Ambassador to China, Robert van Gulik, in a used bookstore in Tokyo, of all places. Van Gulik would go on to translate the stories and penned a number of others using the style and characters of the original. Judge Dee was cast as the “Sherlock Holmes of China” and has since become popular in both China and the West. The first novel in the series was actually set in the time of Empress Wu.
Robert van Gulik also had several scholarly works, including a translation of the Tang Yin Pi Shih, a 13th century manual for magistrates with examples of cases spanning approximately 1400 years, from the Qin to Song dynasty. This work really helps to illuminate how the ancient justice system worked back then.
Fictional detectives aside, Empress Wu would continue to reign over an impressive period in history. There were plenty of deadly politics, various attacks by outside forces, and more. Overall, it was a fairly prosperous time for the empires.
When Wu passed away in 705, her son, Emperor Zhongzong, resumed the throne, ending the Zhou dynasty and resuming the Tang dynasty of the Li family. Still, Wu Zhao, aka Wu Zetian, would be well remembered. She was buried in the Qianling Mausoleum, near Chang’an, alongside her late husband, Emperor Gaozong. Various other members of the Royal Li family were also buried there, and many of their tombs have been opened. The paintings, statues, and artwork and funerary goods provide a tremendously detailed look at Tang court culture and society at this time. Statues outside indicate officials and ambassadors from across the Tang courts sphere of influence. There are depictions of court dress and the elaborate hairstyles, fabrics, and more, as the tombs generally include court men and women. The famous mural of the Ambassadors is shown with Korean, western, and possibly even a Japanese envoy. The murals also show architectural elements of ancient Chang’an and more.
The tombs of Gaozong and Zetian clearly known, but currently have not undergone excavation. Much like with the tomb of Qin Shihuangdi, the government has put a moratorium on opening the tombs until they can be sure that everything can be properly protected as they do so. There is a huge concern that the tombs could be robbed or that priceless works could be damaged if they are opened improperly or without sufficient techniques to adequately preserve them.
As noted above, although Empress Wu is often demonized by historians, we have to ask if her reign was truly so much different from others. She was certainly a woman taking power in a male-dominated system. Where a man projecting power was seen as normal, Empress Wu was seen as perverting the natural order. An emperor taking to bed numerous consorts and concubines was considered only natural. However, Empress Wu taking to bed various men for her own enjoyment was seen as licentious and indecent. The double-standard seems pretty clear.
I even have to wonder about things like the secret police. While it certainly is alarming to see a government sending people out to arrest and charge people on the barest of evidence, often with little or no accountability or transparency, one should consider what justice looked like at the time, more generally. Tang dynasty justice was often harsh, and torture was considered a standard practice to elicit a confession. Once someone was accused of a crime, their guilt was assumed, and it was on them to prove their innocence. This was a tall order, as the thinking of the day was often that if you hadn’t done anything wrong, why would anyone risk falsely accusing you? So clearly you had done something to disrupt the social order, even if it wasn’t what you were actually accused of.
Furthermore, there is a fine line between rooting out disloyalty to the regime and rooting out corruption. Anonymous tips can be used to call SWAT to someone’s house, but it can also be a way for a whistleblower to alert those in authority that something untoward is going on. And something begun with the best of intentions, can easily be corrupted, especially in the wrong hands.
And so I think we can give Empress Wu at least the benefit of the doubt that she seems to have tried to do right by the people and her country. The Tang court, by all accounts, was a nest of vipers, and I don’t think she was a saint, but neither was she the devil incarnate.
In fact, a lot of the accusations against Empress Wu would appear to be paralleled, years later, in the archipelago—possibly being parroted by men who were aware of the anti-Wu propaganda. Kouken Tennou—who would also reign a second time as Shoutoku Tennou, was embroiled in conflict.
Like Wu, she came to power in a court embroiled in familial politics. She was known to be a supporter of Buddhism, and she was also said to have had an affair with a monk, Doukyou, upon whom she is said to have lavished power and authority. She is also said to have modeled her nengo, the auspicious names for the year, off of Empress Wu. After her death, her reign was used as a reason why there was not another regnant female sovereign on the throne until the Edo period, and she is often seen as the Last Female Sovereign, much as there was never another Empress regnant amongst the various Sinic dynasties.
However, returning ourselves back to the 7th century, those histories had yet to be written. Instead, one has to wonder how much communication there was between the continent and the archipelago. Did Uno no Sarara realize that she was not the only woman taking charge at that time? Was Empress Wu considered a model for her? Or was she seen as more of a rival? Or was it neither? Did either one regard the other at all, embroiled as they were in their own, local and domestic pursuits?
If they did, there isn’t much, if anything, in the record.
There is plenty to be said about relations with both Silla and the Tang dynasty in general, however. Most of the focus was actually on Silla, to be honest—not surprising given Silla’s place in the international arena in relation to Yamato.
Last episode we mentioned that an embassy was sent to Silla to announce the death of Ohoama. It was only several months after he had passed away, on the 19th day of 687. The chief and assistant envoys were Tanaka no Ason no Norimaro and Mori no Kimi no Karita. Norimaro is listed as Jikikwoshi rank—the lowest of the Jiki category, which was the 3rd of 6. This put him about 24 ranks down in the 48 rank system. Karita, on the other hand, was Tsuidaini, putting him at about 43 of 48 court ranks. Normally, I don’t pay too much attention to the ranks that are given in the Chronicles, mainly for two reasons. First off is that you aren’t always sure that the rank given in the Chronicle corresponds with the rank at the time of the event—sometimes we see ranks that are clearly anachronistic—typically later in their life. Since people don’t typically drop in rank, unless they are demoted, this usually gives you some information, but not always.
The second reason I often don’t pay attention is because it usually isn’t germane to the story. It is why I’ll also drop the uji and the kabane, once we establish a particular person. Otherwise it feels like word salad.
Every once in a while I do like to look at the ranks, however, because they do give us information about things like the individual’s general position in the court hierarchy. In this case we see that, of the officials selected for this assignment, one was near the bottom of the upper half of the court, while the other was really in a much more junior position. I believe this may also be important later on, because there was a certain expectation that the person representing a sovereign in diplomatic situations would have sufficient rank to indicate some amount of pull, back home.
The mission of Norimaro and Karita to Silla may have been ordered in the first month of the year, but it seems it likely took time before it actually left—or something happened. I say this because in the 9th month we see an embassy from Silla arrive, and they are apparently unaware of any changes in the archipelago. The embassy was headed by the Prince Gim Sangnim. We are also told that there were two other officials, Gim Salmo and Gim Insyul, both of Geupson rank. Then there was So Yangsin of Daesa rank. That was two of vice ministerial rank and one of lower official rank. These ranks were connected both to their office and to their family, as Silla still used a fairly rigid system based on the rank of one’s family, similar to the way that the old Kabane system worked before it was reformed under Ohoama in the previous reign.
The embassy from Silla also included a student-priest, Chiryu. Presumably Chiryu was from Yamato and had gone abroad to study, and was now making his way back home.
It appears as though the embassy had no idea that Ohoama had passed away as we are told that they had to be informed by the Dazai—the Viceroy of Tsukushi. Once they were informed, they all put on mourning clothing, turned towards the east—towards the capital of Yamato—and they bowed three times and then cried out lamentations three times.
I would note that there is another record in the first month of the following year, which states that Gim Sangnim and his colleagues were informed of Ohoama’s death and lamented three times. That could just be a misplaced duplicate of the previous entry, about the embassy—possibly it got recorded multiple times and different ways and on different dates. It isn’t exactly clear. Either way, it seems that this was not meant to be an official condolence envoy, but just a regular embassy bringing trade goods disguised as tribute. In fact, in the 2nd month of 688 we are told that the Viceroy of Tsukushi presented the tribute from Silla to the capital. It is said to have included gold and silver, thin silks, cloth, skins, copper, and iron. There were also images of the Buddha, all kinds of coloured fine silks, birds, and horses. Sangnim himself had presents of gold and silver, colored stuffs, and various rarieties—80 items all told.
Sangnim and his crew probably didn’t travel to Asuka, because we are told that as of the 10th day of the 2nd month of 688 they were being entertained in the Tsukushi government house, where they were given various gifts by the court, and then they headed out on the 29th day of that month.
A year after that, in the first month of 689, Norimaro and Karita returned from Silla, suggesting that the two embassies really had just passed each other—such were the issues with international travel back in the day.
Now, normally, we don’t hear much about what happened during these embassies. The Nihon Shoki doesn’t typically record anything, possibly because they just didn’t have any records. And the records in the Samguk Sagi often don’t mention anything, either. It is possible that it was just considered too routine to mention the ins and outs. However, in this instance, we may have some insight, because it is mentioned later in the narrative.
You see, four months behind Norimaro and Karita came the formal Silla condolence envoy. It was headed by Gim Dona, of Geupson rank—so a vice minister instead of a prince heading up the embassy. Silla also sent student-priests Meiso, Kwanchi, and others, along with a gold-copper image of Amida Buddha and a gold-copper image of Kannon and an image of Daiseishi Boddhisatva, along with colored silks and brocades.
A month after they arrived, the condolence envoy received a message from none other than Queen Uno no Sarara herself, but this was not necessarily a good thing. In fact, she appears to be dressing down the Silla envoys and the Silla court more generally, because of how things had gone with Norimaro and Karita—and this possibly also explains why it took so long for them to get to Silla and back.
According to the Yamato court, Norimaro and Karita were sent to Silla to announce the death of Ohoama. However, Silla protocol stated that persons charged to deliver a royal message had always had the rank of Sopan. This appears to be equivalent to the rank of Japchan, and indicates the third rank in Silla’s system. Because of this, Queen Uno’s message goes on to state, Norimaro and Karita were not allowed to deliver their message about Ohoama’s passing to the court. However, back when Karu—Koutoku Tennou—had passed away in 654, Kose no Inamochi went to announce the funerals dates, and he was received by Gim Shunshun listened to the report. So saying that it is someone of the third rank that is needed goes against precedent.
Furthermore, when Naka no Oe passed away in 671, Silla sent Gim Salyu, who was of 7th rank, but now they send someone of 9th rank. So if precedent was to be followed, wouldn’t that also be a problem?
This whole thing is really fascinating in that it demonstrates the kind of delicate balance and back and forth that was going on—and I suspect that it was growing even more specific as each country was adopting more rules and laws, and compiling them into codes. It is notable that the Chronicles make sure to state the rank of each ambassador from Silla, at least in the last several reigns. That suggests that the government was tracking such things, and that it was important.
The rest of the screed by the Yamato court seems a little more about setting out Yamato’s position on Silla-Yamato relations. Here Yamato puts words into the mouths of former Silla officials, claiming that they always addressed Yamato’s sovereign with deference. Yamato claimed Silla had promised service to Yamato since the remote royal ancestors, promising that the oars of the ships bringing tribute to the archipelago would “never become dry”, and yet this time, there was only one ship that came to offer condolences. Furthermore, the Silla kings were to serve the sovereigns of Yamato faithfully, but they had now broken the faith.
Therefore their tribute goods were sealed up and returned back.
That said, they weren’t completely breaking off communications. This was a rebuke, certainly, but they were willing to keep channels open with hopes that relations might improve in the future.
My read on all of this is that the Yamato envoys to Silla had been snubbed by that court for not being of appropriate station by Silla’s rules. Therefore, in a tit-for-tat move, Yamato was treating the condolence envoy similarly.
That doesn’t mean they didn’t show them any hospitality, though. Queen Uno no Sarara had the Viceroy, Awada no Mabito no Ason, give the student-priests Meiso and Kanchi, who had just come back with the condolence envoy, 140 kin of floss silk for their teachers back in Silla, in apparent gratitude. And then a few days later they were entertaining the condolence envoys in Wogohori in Tsukushi, and giving them various presents for their trouble.
This is likely the kind of “don’t shoot the messenger”. Sure, they were returning the tribute and sending a message to Silla, but that wasn’t the fault of Gim Dona and his colleagues. And they were now taking a rather disappointing message back with them—I doubt anyone wanted to be in Gim Dona’s shoes as he told the court what had transpired.
Gim Dona and crew left shortly after that. From there, we don’t have a lot of information on what happened. The Silla annals of the Samguk Sagi don’t record Gim Dona’s embassy, let alone what happened when they came back. However, Silla would send future envoys, and diplomatic relations between the two countries continued throughout the reign.
The Silla embassies from that point on are largely, for our purposes, unremarkable. I may mention them if they relate to other items of note, but for the most part there is really only two other embassies of note, and they were in the year 693. The first was from Silla, led by Gim Gangnam of Sasan rank, along with Gim Yangweon of Hannama rank—so 8th and 11th rank in the Silla hierarchy, apparently. They had come to announce the death of King Sinmun, who had passed away the previous year.   And so, on the 16th day of the 3rd month, an embassy was prepared to depart for Silla. It was headed up by Okinaga no Mabito no Oyu, of Jikikwoshi rank—much as Norimaro had been. He and his proposed vice envoy, Ohotomo no Sukune no Kogimi, who was Gondaini rank—27th of 48—were both given gifts prior to their election as ambassadors, and were sent as condolence envoys, themselves.
Meanwhile, let’s take a look at Yamato’s interactions with the Tang dynasty.
First of all, we see a note in the 6th month of 689 that presents of rice were given to Xu Shouyen, Sa Hungko, and others from the land of the Great Tang. So was this an embassy? Not quite.
Remember that little scuffle back in the 660s on the Korean Peninsula? That special military operation by Silla and Tang forces against Baekje, where Yamato had tried to assist, only to have their navy bested by Tang forces?
Well during the fighting , there had been numerous prisoners taken, on both sides. Xu Shouyen and Sa Hungko were two such prisoners. Except that “prison” in this case was largely being sent to live off the land. They were probably forced to do labor, though if they had special skills, such as reading and writing, they may have been put to work in another way. Indeed, we later see these two mentioned not as prisoners or even slaves, but as teachers of “pronunciation”. They were even given rice-land and stipends of their own. Granted, this is decades after they first came to Yamato, so this wasn’t exactly a smooth ride.
But it wasn’t just Tang prisoners in Yamato. Yamato soldiers had also been captured and taken prisoner by Tang forces. And so, in the 9th month of 690, we see three priests who had gone to the land of Tang to study returned in the company of a Silla escort envoy, and they brought back with them a soldier, Ohotomobe no Hakama, from the Upper Yame district in Tsukushi.
The three priests, Chishiu, Gitoku, and Jougwan all made their way to the capital, arriving several weeks after they first made landfall in Tsukushi. At this point, Prince Kawachi was the Dazai in charge of affairs out there, and soon after the priests arrived at Naniwa and made their way to the capital, in Asuka, messengers going the other way made it out to Tsukushi with orders to give presents and gifts to the Gim Gohun, the escort envoy who had shuttled them all back from the continent.
But even more impressive was the royal edict that was dated a week later for Ohotomobe no Hakama. It lays out the circumstances of his capture and what happened to him that he stayed in the land of the Tang for so long. You see, Hakama was one of many soldiers who was captured during the war to defend Baekje. But three years after that conflict, the Tang dynasty was no longer trying to keep them prisoner. This was a time when you didn’t necessarily need to have buildings with walls to keep people prisoner—you just moved them to a new area where they could farm or otherwise set up a livelihood, or starve. Travel was dangerous and expensive, especially if you didn’t speak the language. Nonetheless, if you did wish to return, there wasn’t a lot stopping you, beyond just having the means to do so.
And so this group of Wa soldiers got together and debated what to do. We are told that it was four men—Hashi no Hoto, Kohori no Oyu, Tsukuhi no Satsuyama, and Yuge no Gen Jitsuni—the last one apparently having taken a local name on the continent. Amongst themselves, they wanted to return to the archipelago not just to see their families and friends, but also to let people back home know about the changing conditions on the mainland. As you may recall, around this time, Yamato was fiercely building up forces and defenses because they were convinced that there was going to be an attack by the Tang and Silla forces at any moment.
The only problem that these four had in getting back was that they had, well, nothing. They had neither the clothing nor provisions to make such a journey. What would they eat and how would they pay for passage? As such, they were unable to get back. Hearing this, Ohotomobe no Hakama spoke up. He declared that, as much as he also wished to return, he could at least help them out. He offered to be sold into slavery so that his companions could obtain money with which to buy food and clothing.
And so they did. Hakama was sold, and he probably had no idea what happened to the four after that. It turns out, however, that they did make it back and were able to give the Yamato court some idea of what had happened. Meanwhile, Hakama remained in a foreign land as a slave for some 30 years, until he was finally able to make it back to Yamato, apparently with the help of the three monks.
This whole story was relayed to the court, and when the Queen heard it, she decided to act. And thus the edict. Not only did she recount his story and praise him for his loyalty, but he was granted certain honors. First off, he was granted the rank of Mudaishi—the 39th rank in the court hierarchy, which gave him not a small amount of status, especially if he stayed in Tsukushi. He was also granted5 pieses of coarse silk, 10 bundles of floss silk, 30 tan of cloth, and 1000 sheaves of rice. On top of that, though, he received four chou of rice-land, which was given to him and his descendants, until at least his great-grandchildren. Finally, his parents, siblings, and children, were also exempted from having to ever provide corvee labor.
Now, nobody could give him back his 30 years, but this was quite the consolation prize, at the time. To basically get rank and status, a stipend down four generations, and exemption from forced labor for him and his relatives, that was pretty incredible, if you think about it.
Hakama wasn’t the only one who had suffered in the country of the Great Tang and was rewarded for it. Mononobe no Kusuri, from Iyo, and Mibu no Moroshi, in Higo, were also paid out handsomely in consolation for their sufferings, though we aren’t given details on their stories, or even when they came back.
There are also other descriptions of Tang men, but it seems that these were individuals in a similar position to Xu Shouyen and Sa Hungko—they had been captured and were now living in Yamato. That they were integrating into Yamato society seems clear from the fact that they were given rank and similarly treated like vassals of the throne.
What we don’t see, however, are any further diplomatic missions. Those wouldn’t start up for a while, and so even if Queen Uno no Sarara had wanted to confer with another female monarch, it would have to have been done through the auspices of Silla, who at t his point seem to have largely controlled the flow of goods, people, and thus information between the straits.
And with that, I think we can close out this episode. Moving forward, we have more details about a lot of different things, and yet others are still lacking. It is my goal to try and be a little more selective about the passages we pull from the Chronicles. We don’t need to go over every natural disaster or prayer to the wind-gods. We will take a look at things like the completion of the Fujiwara capital, as well as the 22 volumes of the Asuka-Kiyomihara law codes. And then there are a few persons of note that we should probably mention as well, such as the appearance of Fujiwara no Fubito. We should also talk about some of the other royal edicts that were made.
All of that for later. For now, 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
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Lewis, Mark Edward (2009). China’s Cosmopolitan Empire: The Tang Dynasty. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts / London, England. ISBN 978-0-674-03306-1
Gui Wanrong & Gulik, Robert Hans van, 1910-1967. (republished 2007). Crime and punishment in ancient China : T'ang-yin-pi-shih = Tang yin bi shi / [translated with an introduction and notes by] R.H. van Gulik. Bangkok, Thailand : Orchid Press. ISBN 9789745240919
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN 0-80480984-4.

New Year's Recap 2026

January 1, 2026 Joshua Badgley

Kinojo - The demon’s castle. Built in the 7th century in the land of Kibi (modern Okayama). While not mentioned in the record, it is the kind of Baekje style fortress that was being erected in Japan following the naval defeat at the Battle of Baekgang River. Photo of the modern reconstruction by author.

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Happy New Year!

Welcome to our 2026 recap. This episode we look back on the past year, but also try to make sure that we prepare for the next year. We’ll cover the big events and then go into some of the major themes that we’ve seen over the year. For that, we’ll also cover some of the previous history that has led up to the start of things this year.

This year we’ve covered the end of the reign of Takara Hime (Saimei Tennō), through the reigns of Naka no Ōe (Tenji Tennō) and into the reign of Ōama (Temmu Tennō)—not to mention the possible (if short) reign of Ōtomo (Kōbun Tennō). We saw an expanded contact with the continent—and an expanded international world, in general. We saw students from the archipelago studying with the famous monk Xuanzang, who traveled all the way to India.

But then war came. Iki no Hakatoko and others in the same embassy were held under house arrest in the Tang court while they attacked Yamato’s ally, Baekje. They deposed king Wicha of Baekje, and Yamato was drawn into the conflict. At the Battle of Baekgang river, Yamato forces suffered a tremendous defeat. Yamato and those Baekje allies that could join them fled to the archipelago, where the government built fortresses and set up a defensive posture should the Tang and Silla attack them next.

But the attack never came. The capital was moved to Afumi, but that was anything but a popular move. After the Jinshin War, which put Ōama on the throne, they moved back to Asuka. There, Ōama had been continuing the work of his brother, shaping the Ritsuryō state.

In the coming year we’ll see through the end of Ōama’s reign as we continue to march towards the end of the Nihon Shoki. After that, we’ll have to see, but I expect we’ll want to talk about the Nihon Shoki some and then look at the Shoku Nihongi—the continuing court chronicles.

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.
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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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Episode 140: Improving Diplomatic Ties

December 16, 2025 Joshua Badgley

Great King Munmu of Silla, according to a 1908 Korean textbook. Munmu is the king that oversaw the conquest of Baekje and Goguryeo and the expulsion of the Tang from the Peninsula. He is generally considered the founder of Unified Silla. Photo in the public domain courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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This episode we look at some of the improving foreign relations.

Silla

Silla is the most prominent foreign entity in contact with the Yamato court at this time. Furthermore, under King Munmu the Great they are at a high point in their history. With the help of the Tang Empire they have defeated Baekje and Goguryeo. Then, after years of struggle, they would also push the Tang out of the peninsula, at least past the Taedong river, which runs through Pyongyang. From the Taedong south—or Southeast—was what we often refer to as Unified Silla. For the first time, the peninsula was under a single authority, and it would start to bring a unification of culture as well as politics. It seems that Silla was also interested in mending fences with Yamato. The two had long had an adversarial relationship, but it seems that was changing.

Goguryeo

For a kingdom that was destroyed, Goguryeo continued to have quite the presence in the Chronicles. While Baekje and Nimna had both largely been given up as lost, Goguryeo, despite its apparent non-existence, refused to give up the ghost, as it were. This appears to be in part due to local rebellions and restoration efforts, but also thanks to official sponsorship by Silla, who no doubt realized that Goguryeo’s restoration kept the Tang dynasty busy. And so we see Goguryeo envoys to the Yamato court, though each time accompanied by Silla escorts.

Tamna

Tamna is on the island of Jeju, in the ocean south of the Korean peninsula. Though archaeological evidence suggests that they have had close ties with Yayoi Japan and with Baekje, among others, from at least the 1st century, we don’t see them show up in the Chronicles until the 7th. This may be because they were dealing with groups other than Yamato. With the fall of Baekje, the appearance of Tamna at the Yamato court appears to have grown. This could be coincidence just having to do with timing, though it is interesting that Tamna appears to show a lot of linguistic similarities in terms of names with the people of the Japanese archipelago. Alexander Vovin suggested that they were one of the last hold-outs of a continental proto-Japonic speaking group. Their language and entire way of life would eventually come under the sway of the rest of the peninsula before they were able to record too much of their own history, and so mostly we know of them through the writings of others.

Tang Empire

The Tang Empire was expansive, dwarfing Yamato or Silla, but that expanse was also a problem. They had a massive border to defend, and they were regularly moving between fighting with Tibet and fighting on the Korean peninsula, which was no small feat. Eventually the peninsula would prove too much trouble, and they would relocate to Liaodong and focus on the former Goguryeo territory. The Tang court was also dealing with other issues. Tang Gaozong was the nominal ruler, but his wife, the Empress Wu Zetian, had been given unprecedented power, so that often it was her edicts that were actually being followed. For all of its power and might, we don’t see any more Tang envoys during this reign.

Mishihase

The Mishihase, or Sushen, are most likely the people also known as the Ohkotsk Sea Culture. We don’t have any of their own writings, and the term the Chronicles use for them appears to be appropriated from mainland references to another people altogether. But based on their activities and timeframe, the Ohkotsk Sea Culture is likely the group we can best identify them as. The Ohkotsk Sea Culture, itself, is a name for the culture that produced a variety of material goods found in archaeological excavations around the Ohkotsk Sea dated to around this time. The Ohokotsk Sea Culture appears to have had influence from or on the people we know today as the Nivkh and the Ainu—modern indigenous groups in Hokkaido, Sakhalin, and the area near the mouth of the Amur River.

Non-Yamato Cultures on the Archipelago

We don’t hear much about the Emishi at this point in time, but there are plenty of other people who are outside of the Yamato political sphere, and who are often represented as culturally unique or distinct.

Hayato

The Hayato are perhaps the most famous group of the ones mentioned. They are from Southern Kyushu—the regions of Ata and Osumi. Ata is thought to be the area of Satsuma, and Osumi refers to the Osumi peninsula. We do see some differences in the material culture of these areas, but also plenty of similarities, suggesting that they may not be entirely distinct, just outside of Yamato’s formal political reach.

Tanegashima and Yakushima

These are two islands south of Kyushu, at the head of the chain of islands made from the volcanic sea ridge that travels from the archipelago all the way to the island of Taiwan, many of the islands of which make up the Ryukyuan, or Okinawan, island chain. Tanegashima is known to us, today, because it was one of the first places that Europeans landed and became an early hub of firearms production—but that was still centuries off. Yakushima is known today as a UNESCO world heritage site for its pristine forests. It has long been inhabited, but never tremendously so.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 140: Improving Diplomatic Ties
Garyang Jyeongsan and Gim Hongsye looked out from the deck of their ship, tossing and turning in the sea. The waves were high, and the winds lashed at the ship, which rocked uncomfortably beneath their feet. Ocean spray struck them from below while rain pelted from above.
Through the torrential and unstable conditions, they looked out for their sister ship. It was their job to escort them, but in these rough seas, bobbing up and down, they were at the mercy of the elements. One minute they could see them, and then next it was nothing but a wall of water. Each time they caught a glimpse the other ship seemed further and further away. They tried calling out, but it was no use—even if they could normally have raised them, the fierce winds simply carried their voices out into the watery void. Eventually, they lost sight of them altogether.
When the winds died down and the seas settled, they looked for their companions, but they saw nothing, not even hints of wreckage on the ocean. They could only hope that their fellow pilots knew where they were going. As long as they could still sail, they should be able to make it to land—either to the islands to which they were headed, or back to the safety of the peninsula.
And so the escort ship continued on, even without a formal envoy to escort. They would hope for the best, or else they would explain what would happen, and hope that the Yamato court would understand.
The seas were anything but predictable, and diplomacy was certainly not for the faint of heart.

We are going through the period of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou. It started in 672, with the death of his brother, Naka no Oe, remembered as the sovereign Tenji Tenno, when Temmu took the throne from his nephew, Ohotomo, aka Kobun Tenno, in what would become known as the Jinshin no Ran. From that point, Ohoama continued the work of his brother in creating a government based on a continental model of laws and punishments—the Ritsuryo system. He accomplished this with assistance from his wife, Uno, and other members of the royal family—his own sons, but also nephews and other princes of the time. And so far most of our focus has been on the local goings on within the archipelago.
However, there was still plenty going on in the rest of the world, and though Yamato’s focus may have been on more local affairs, it was still engaged with the rest of the world—or at least with the polities of the Korean Peninsula and the Tang Dynasty. This episode we are going to look at Yamato’s foreign relations, and how they were changing, especially as things changed on the continent.
Up to this point, much of what had been happening in Yamato had been heavily influenced by the mainland in one way or another. And to begin our discussion, we really should backtrack a bit—all the way to the Battle of Baekgang in 663, which we discussed in Episode 124. That defeat would lead to the fall of Baekje, at the hands of the Silla-Tang alliance. The loss of their ally on the peninsula sent Yamato into a flurry of defensive activity. They erected fortresses on Tsushima, Kyushu, and along the Seto Inland Sea. They also moved the capital up to Ohotsu, a more easily defended point on the shores of Lake Biwa, and likewise reinforced various strategic points in the Home Provinces as well. These fortresses were built in the style and under the direction of many of the Baekje refugees now resettled in Yamato.
For years, the archipelago braced for an invasion by the Silla-Tang alliance. After all, with all that Yamato had done to support Baekje, it only made sense, from their perspective, for Silla and Tang to next come after them. Sure, there was still Goguryeo, but with the death of Yeon Gaesomun, Goguryeo would not last that long. With a unified peninsula, then why wouldn’t they next look to the archipelago?
And yet, the attack never came. While Yamato was building up its defenses, it seems that the alliance between Silla and Tang was not quite as strong as their victories on the battlefield may have made it seem. This is hardly surprising—the Tang and Silla were hardly operating on the same scale. That said, the Tang’s immense size, while bringing it great resources, also meant that it had an extremely large border to defend. They often utilized alliances with other states to achieve their ends. In fact, it seems fairly common for the Tang to seek alliances with states just beyond their borders against those states that were directly on their borders. In other words, they would effectively create a pincer maneuver by befriending the enemy of their enemy. Of course. Once they had defeated said enemy well, wouldn’t you know it, their former ally was now their newest bordering state.
In the case of the Silla-Tang alliance, it appears that at the start of the alliance, back in the days of Tang Taizong, the agreement, at least from Silla’s perspective, was that they would help each other against Goguryeo and Baekje, and then the Tang dynasty would leave the Korean peninsula to Silla. However, things didn’t go quite that smoothly. The fighting against Goguryeo and Baekje can be traced back to the 640s, but Tang Taizong passed away in 649, leaving the throne to his heir, Tang Gaozong. The Tang forces eventually helped Silla to take Baekje after the battle of Baekgang River in 663, and then Goguryeo fell in 668, but the Tang forces didn’t leave the peninsula. They remained in the former territories of Baekje and in Goguryeo, despite any former agreements. Ostensibly they were no doubt pointing to the continuing revolts and rebellions in both regions. While neither kingdom would fully reassert itself, it didn’t mean that there weren’t those who were trying. In fact, the first revolt in Goguryeo was in 669. There was also a revolt each year until 673. The last one had some staying power, as the Goguryeo rebels continued to hold out for about four years.
It is probably worth reminding ourselves that the Tang dynasty, during this time, had reached out on several occasions to Yamato, sending diplomatic missions, as had Silla. While the Yamato court may have been preparing for a Tang invasion, the Tang perspective seems different. They were preoccupied with the various revolts going on, and they had other problems. On their western border, they were having to contend with the kingdom of Tibet, for example. The Tibetan kingdom had a powerful influence on the southern route around the Taklamakan desert, which abuts the Tibetan plateau. The Tang court would have had to divert resources to defend their holdings in the western regions, and it is unlikely that they had any immediate designs on the archipelago, which I suspect was considered something of a backwater to them, at the time. In fact, Yamato would have been much more useful to the Tang as an ally to help maintain some pressure against Silla, with whom their relationship, no longer directed at a common enemy, was becoming somewhat tense.
In fact, just before Ohoama came to the throne, several events had occurred that would affect the Silla-Tang alliance.
The first event is more indirect—in 670, the Tibetan kingdom attacked the Tang empire. The fighting was intense, and required serious resources from both sides. Eventually the Tibetan forces were victorious, but not without a heavy toll on the Tibetan kingdom, which some attribute to the latter’s eventual demise. Their pyrrhic victory, however, was a defeat for the Tang, who also lost troops and resources in the fighting. Then, in 671, the Tang empire would suffer another loss as Silla would drive the Tang forces out of the territory of the former kingdom of Baekje.
With the Baekje territory under their control, it appears that Silla was also working to encourage some of rebellions in Goguryeo. This more than irked the Tang court, currently under the formal control of Tang Gaozong and the informal—but quite considerable—control of his wife, Wu Zetian, who some claim was the one actually calling most of the shots in the court at this point in time. Silla encouragement of restoration efforts in Goguryeo reached the Tang court in 674, in and in 675 we see that the Tang forces were sent to take back their foothold in the former Baekje territory. Tang defeated Silla at Gyeonggi, and Silla’s king, Munmu, sent a tribute mission to the Tang court, apologizing for their past behavior.
However, the Tang control could not be maintained, as they had to once again withdraw most of their troops from the peninsula to send them against the Tibetan kingdom once more. As soon as they did so, Silla once again renewed their attacks on Tang forces on the peninsula. And so, a year later, in 676, the Tang forces were back. They crossed the Yellow Sea to try and take back the Tang territories on the lower peninsula, but they were unsuccessful. Tang forces were defeated by Silla at Maeso Fortress in modern day Yeoncheon. After a bit more fighting, Silla ended up in control of all territory south of the Taedong River, which runs through Pyongyang, one of the ancient capitals of Goguryeo and the capital of modern North Korea. This meant that the Tang dynasty still held much of the territory of Goguryeo under their control.
With everything that was going on, perhaps that explains some of the apparently defensive measures that Yamato continued to take. For example, the second lunar month of 675, we know that Ohoama proceeded to Takayasu castle, likely as a kind of formal inspection. Then, in the 10th lunar month of 675 Ohoama commanded that everyone from the Princes down to the lowest rank were to provide the government with weapons. A year later, in the 9th month of 676, the Princes and Ministers sent agents to the capital and the Home Provinces and gave out weapons to each man. Similar edicts would be issued throughout the reign. So in 679 the court announced that in two years time, which is to say the year 681, there would be a review of the weapons and horses belonging to the Princes of the Blood, Ministers, and any public functionaries. And in that same year, barrier were erected for the first time on Mt. Tatsta and Mt. Afusaka, along with an outer line of fortifications at Naniwa.
While some of that no doubt also helped to control internal movements, it also would have been useful to prepare for the possibility of future invasions. And the work continued. In 683 we see a royal command to all of the various provinces to engage in military training. And in 684 it was decreed at that there would be an inspection in the 9th month of the following year—685—and they laid out the ceremonial rules, such as who would stand where, what the official clothing was to look like, etc.
Furthermore, there was also an edict that all civil and military officials should practice the use of arms and riding horses. They were expected to supply their own horses, weapons, and anything they would wear into battle. If they owned horses, they would be considered cavalry soldiers, while those who did not have their own horse would be trained as infantry. Either way, they would each receive training, and the court was determined to remove any obstacles and excuses that might arise.   Anyone who didn’t comply would be punished. Non compliance could mean refusing to train, but it could also just mean that they did not provide the proper horses or equipment, or they let their equipment fall into a state of disrepair. Punishments could range from fines to outright flogging, should they be found guilty. On the other hand, those who practiced well would have any punishments against them for other crimes reduced by two degrees, even if it was for a capital crime. This only applied to previous crimes, however—if it seemed like you were trying to take advantage of this as a loophole to be able to get away with doing your own thing than the pardon itself would be considered null and void.
A year later, the aforementioned inspection was carried out by Princes Miyatokoro, Hirose, Naniwa, Takeda, and Mino. Two months later, the court issued another edict demanding that military equipment—specifically objects such as large or small horns, drums, flutes, flags, large bows, or catapults—should be stored at the government district house and not kept in private arsenals. The “large bow” in this case may be something like a ballista, though Aston translates it to crossbow—unfortunately, it isn’t exactly clear, and we don’t necessarily have a plethora of extant examples to point to regarding what they meant. Still, these seem to be focused on things that would be used by armies—especially the banners, large bows, and catapults. The musical instruments may seem odd, though music was often an important part of Tang dynasty military maneuvers. It was used to coordinate troops, raise morale, provide a marching rhythm, and more. Granted, much of this feels like something more continental, and it is unclear if music was regularly used in the archipelago. This could be more of Yamato trying to emulate the Tang dynasty rather than something that was commonplace on the archipelago. That might also explain the reference to the Ohoyumi and the catapults, or rock throwers.
All of this language having to do with military preparations could just be more of the same as far as the Sinicization of the Yamato government is concerned; attempts to further emulate what they understood of the civilized governments on the mainland—or at least their conception of those governments based on the various written works that they had imported. Still, I think it is relevant that there was a lot of uncertainty regarding the position of various polities and the potential for conflict. Each year could bring new changes to the political dynamic that could see military intervention make its way across the straits. And of course, there was always the possibility that Yamato itself might decide to raise a force of its own.
Throughout all of this, there was continued contact with the peninsula and other lands. Of course, Silla and Goguryeo were both represented when Ohoama came to the throne—though only the Silla ambassador made it to the ceremony, apparently. In the 7th lunar month of 675, Ohotomo no Muraji no Kunimaro was sent to Silla as the Chief envoy, along with Miyake no Kishi no Irishi. They likely got a chance to witness first-hand the tensions between Silla and the Tang court. The mission would return in the second lunar month of the following year, 676. Eight months later, Mononobe no Muarji no Maro and Yamashiro no Atahe no Momotari were both sent. That embassy also returned in the 2nd lunar month of the following year.
Meanwhile, it wasn’t just Yamato traveling to Silla—there were also envoys coming the other way. For example, in the 2nd lunar month of 675 we are told that Silla sent Prince Chyungweon as an ambassador. His retinue was apparently detained on Tsukushi while the actual envoy team went on to the Yamato capital. It took them about two months to get there, and then they stayed until the 8th lunar month, so about four months in total.
At the same time, in the third month, Goguryeo and Silla both sent “tribute” to Yamato. And in the 8th month, Prince Kumaki, from Tamna, arrived at Tsukushi as well. Tamna, as you may recall, refers to nation on the island known today as Jeju. The late Alexander Vovin suggested that the name originated from a proto-Japonic cognate with “Tanimura”, and many of the names seem to also bear out a possible Japonic influence on the island nation. Although they only somewhat recently show up in the Chronicles from our perspective, archaeological evidence suggests that they had trade with Yayoi Japan and Baekje since at least the first century. With the fall of Baekje, and the expansion of Yamato authority to more of the archipelago, we’ve seen a notable uptick in the communication between Tamna and Yamato noted in the record. A month after the arrival of Prince Kumaki in Tsukushi, aka Kyushu, it is noted that a Prince Koyo of Tamna arrived at Naniwa. The Tamna guests would stick around for almost a year, during which time they were presented with a ship and eventually returned in the 7th lunar month of the following year, 676.   Tamna envoys, who had also shown up in 673, continued to be an annual presence at the Yamato court through the year 679, after which there is an apparent break in contact, picking back up in 684 and 685.
676 also saw a continuation of Silla representatives coming to the Yamato court, arriving in the 11th lunar month. That means they probably passed by the Yamato envoys heading the other way. Silla, under King Mumnu, now had complete control of the Korean peninsula south of the Taedong river. In the same month we also see another mission from Goguryeo, but the Chronicle also points out that the Goguryeo envoys had a Silla escort, indicating the alliance between Silla and those attempting to restore Goguryeo—or at least the area of Goguryeo under Tang control. The Tang, for their part, had pulled back their commandary to Liaodong, just west of the modern border between China and North Korea, today. Goguryeo would not go quietly, and the people of that ancient kingdom—one of the oldest on the peninsula—would continue to rise up and assert their independence for years to come.
The chronicles also record envoys from the somewhat mysterious northern Mishihase, or Sushen, thought to be people of the Okhotsk Sea culture from the Sakhalin islands. There were 11 of them, and they came with the Silla envoys, possibly indicating their influence on the continent and through the Amur river region. Previously, most of the contact had been through the regions of Koshi and the Emishi in modern Tohoku and Hokkaido. This seems to be their only major envoy to the Yamato court recorded in this reign.
Speaking of outside groups, in the 2nd lunar month of 677 we are told that there was an entertainment given to men of Tanegashima under the famous Tsuki tree west of Asukadera. Many people may know Tanegashima from the role it played in the Sengoku Period, when Europeans made contact and Tanegashima became a major hub of Sengoku era firearm manufacturing. At this point, however, it seems that it was still a largely independent island in the archipelago off the southern coast of Kyushu. Even southern Kyushu appears to have retained some significant cultural differences at this time, with the “Hayato” people being referenced in regards to southern Kyushu—we’ll talk about them in a bit as they showed up at the capital in 682.
Tanegashima is actually closer to Yakushima, another island considered to be separate, culturally, from Yamato, and could be considered the start of the chain of islands leading south to Amami Ohoshima and the other Ryukyuan islands. That said, Tanegashima and Yakushima are much closer to the main islands of the archipelago and show considerable influence, including Yayoi and Kofun cultural artifacts, connecting them more closely to those cultures, even if Yamato initially saw them as distinct in some way.
A formal Yamato envoy would head down to Tanegashima two years later, in the 11th lunar month of 679. It was headed up by Yamato no Umakahibe no Miyatsuko no Tsura and Kami no Sukuri no Koukan. The next reference to the mission comes in 681, when the envoys returned and presented a map of the island. They claimed that it was in the middle of the ocean, and that rice was always abundant. With a single sowing of rice it was said that they could get two harvests. Other products specifically mentioned were cape jasmine and bulrushes, though they then note that there were also many other products that they didn’t bother to list. This must have been considered quite the success, as the Yamato envoys were each awarded a grade of rank for their efforts.   They also appear to have returned with some of the locals, as they were entertained again in Asuka—this time on the riverbank west of Asukadera, where various kinds of music were performed for them.
Tanegashima and Yakushima would be brought formally under Yamato hegemony in 702 with the creation of Tane province, but for now it was still considered separate. This was probably just the first part of the efforts to bring them into Yamato, proper.
Getting back to the Silla envoys who had arrived in 676, they appear to have remained for several months. In the third lunar month of 677 we are told that they, along with guests of lower rank—thirteen persons all told—were invited to the capital. Meanwhile, the escort envoys and others who had not been invited to the capital were entertained in Tsukushi and returned from there.
While this was going on, weather out in the straits drove a Silla boat to the island of Chikashima. Aboard was a Silla man accompanined by three attendants and three Buddhist priests. We aren’t told where they were going, but they were given shelter and when the Silla envoy, Kim Chyeonpyeong, returned home he left with those who had been driven ashore, as well.
The following year, 678, was not a great one for the Silla envoys. Garyang Jyeongsan and Gim Hongsye arrived at Tsukushi, but they were just the escorts. The actual envoys had been separated by a storm at sea and never arrived. In their place, the escort envoys were sent to the capital, probably to at least carry through with the rituals of diplomacy. This was in the first month of the following year, 679, and given when envoys had previously arrived, it suggests to me that they waited a few months, probably to see if the envoys’ ship eventually appeared and to give the court time to figure out what to do. A month later, the Goguryeo envoys arrived, still being accompanied by Silla escorts, also arrived.
Fortunately the Yamato envoys to Silla and elsewhere fared better. That year, 679, the envoys returned successfully from Silla, Goguryeo, and Tamna. Overall, though, I think it demonstrates that this wasn’t just a pleasure cruise. There was a very real possibility that one could get lost at sea. At the same time, one needed people of sufficient status to be able to carry diplomatic messages and appropriately represent the court in foreign lands. We often seen envoys later taking on greater positions of responsibility in the court, and so you didn’t have to go far to find those willing to take the risk for later rewards.
That same year, another tribute mission from Silla did manage to make the crossing successfully. And in this mission we are given more details, for they brought gold, silver, iron, sacrificial cauldrons with three feet, brocade, cloth, hides, horses, dogs, mules, and camels. And those were just the official gifts to the court. Silla also sent distinct presents for the sovereign, the queen, and the crown prince, namely gold, silver, swords, flags, and things of that nature.
This appears to demonstrate increasingly close ties between Silla and Yamato. All of that arrived in the 10th lunar month of 679, and they stayed through the 6th lunar month of 680—about 7 to 9 months all told, depending on if there were any intercalary months that year. In addition to entertaining the Silla envoys in Tsukushi—it is not mentioned if they made it to the capital—we are also told that in the 2nd lunar month, halfway through the envoys’ visit, eight labourers from Silla were sent back to their own country with gifts appropriate to their station.
Here I have to pause and wonder what exactly is meant by this. “Labourer” seems somewhat innocuous. I suspect that their presence in Yamato may have been less than voluntary, and I wonder if these were captured prisoners of war who could have been in Yamato now for over a decade. If so, this could have been a gesture indicating that the two sides were putting all of that nastiness with Baekje behind them, and Yamato was accepting Silla’s new role on the peninsula. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it does seem to imply that Silla and Yamato were growing closer, something that Yamato would need if it wanted to have easy access, again, to the wider world.
Speaking of returning people, that seems to have been something of a common thread for this year, 680, as another mission from Goguryeo saw 19 Goguryeo men also returned to their country. These were condolence envoys who had come to mourn the death of Takara Hime—aka Saimei Tennou. They must have arrived in the midst of all that was happening peninsula, and as such they were detained. Their detention is somewhat interesting, when you think about it, since technically Baekje and Goguryeo—and thus Yamato—would have been on the same side against the Silla-Tang alliance. But perhaps it was just considered too dangerous to send them home, initially, and then the Tang had taken control of their home. It is unclear to me how much they were being held by Yamato and how much they were just men without a country for a time. This may reflect how things on the mainland were stabilizing again, at least from Yamato’s perspective. However, as we’ll discuss a bit later, it may have also been another attempt at restoring the Goguryeo kingdom by bringing back refugees, especially if they had connections with the old court. The Goguryeo envoys—both the recent mission and those who had been detained—would remain until the 5th lunar month of 681, when they finally took their leave. That year, there were numerous mission both from and to Silla and Goguryeo, and in the latter part of the year, Gim Chyungpyeong came once again, once more bearing gives of gold, silver, copper, iron, brocade, thin silk, deerskins, and fine cloth. They also brought gold, silver, flags of a rosy-colored brocade and skins for the sovereign, his queen, and the crown prince.
That said, the 681 envoys also brought grave news: King Munmu of Silla was dead. Munmu had reigned since 661, so he had overseen the conquest of Silla and Goguryeo. His regnal name in Japanese might be read as Monmu, or even “Bunbu”, referencing the blending of literary and cultural achievements seen as the pinnacle of noble attainment. He is known as Munmu the Great for unifying the peninsula under a single ruler—though much of the Goguryeo territory was still out of reach. Indeed he saw warfare and the betterment of his people, and it is no doubt significant that his death is recorded in the official records of the archipelago. He was succeeded by his son, who would reign as King Sinmun, though the succession wasn’t exactly smooth.
We are told that Munmu, knowing his time was short, requested that his son, the Crown Prince, be named king before they attended to Munmu’s own funerary arrangements, claiming that the throne should not sit vacant. This may have been prescient, as the same year Munmu died and Sinmun ascended to the throne there was a revolt, led by none other than Sinmun’s own father-in-law, Kim Heumdol. Heumdol may, himselve, have been more of a figurehead for other political factions in the court and military. Nonetheless, the attempted coup of 681 was quickly put down—the envoys in Yamato would likely only learn about everything after the dust had settled upon their return.
The following year, 682, we see another interesting note about kings, this time in regards to the Goguryeo envoys, whom we are told were sent by the King of Goguryeo. Ever since moving the commandery to Liaodong, the Tang empire had claimed dominion over the lands of Goguryeo north of the Taedong river. Originally they had administered it militarily, but in 677 they crowned a local, Bojang as the “King of Joseon”, using the old name for the region, and put him in charge of the Liaodong commandery. However, he was removed in 681, and sent into exile in Sichuan, because rather than suppressing revolt, he had actually encouraged restoration attempts, inviting back Goguryeo refugees, like those who had been detained in Yamato. Although Bojang himself was sent into exile, his descendants continued to claim sovereignty, so it may have been one of them that was making the claim to the “King of Goguryeo”, possibly with Silla’s blessing.
Later that year, 682, we see Hayato from Ohosumi and Ata—possibly meaning Satsuma—the southernmost point of Kyushu coming to the court in 682. They brought tribute and representatives of Ohosumi and Ata wrestled, with the Ohosumi wrestler emerging victorious. They were entertained west of Asukadera, and various kinds of music was performed and gifts were given. They were apparently quite the sight, as Buddhist priests and laiety all came out to watch.
Little is known for certain about the Hayato. We have shields that are attributed to them, but their association may have more to do with the fact that they were employed as ceremonial guards for a time at the palace. We do know that Southern Kyushu had various groups that were seen as culturally distinct from Yamato, although there is a lot of overlap in material culture. We also see early reports of the Kumaso, possibly two different groups, the Kuma and So, in earlier records, and the relationship between the Kumaso and the Hayato is not clearly defined.
What we do know is that southern Kyushu, for all that it shared with Yamato certain aspects of culture through the kofun period, for example, they also had their own traditions. For example, there is a particular burial tradition of underground kofun that is distinct to southern Kyushu. A great example of this can be found at the Saitobaru Kofun cluster in Miyazaki, which contains these unique southern Kyushu style burials along with more Yamato style keyhole shaped and circular type kofun. Miyazaki sits just north of the Ohosumi peninsula, in what was formerly the land of Hyuga, aka Himuka. This is also where a lot of the founding stories of the Heavenly grandchild were placed, and even today there is a shrine there to the Heavenly Rock Cave. In other words there are a lot of connections with Southern Kyushu, and given that the Chronicles were being written in the later 7th and early 8th centuries, it is an area of intense interest when trying to understand the origins of Yamato and Japanese history.
Unfortunately, nothing clearly tells us exactly how the Hayato were separate, but in the coming century they would both come under Yamato hegemony and rebel against it, time and again. This isn’t the first time they are mentioned, but it may be the first time that we see them as an actual people, in a factual entry as earlier references in the Chronicles are suspect.
Continuing on with our look at diplomacy during this period, the year 683 we see a continuation of the same patterns, with nothing too out of the ordinary. Same with most of 684 until the 12th lunar month. It is then that we see a Silla ship arrive with Hashi no Sukune no Wohi and Shirawi no Fubito no Hozen. They had both, previously been to the Tang empire to study, though we don’t have a record of them leaving for that or any other purpose. They are accompanied by Witsukahi no Muraji no Kobito and Tsukushi no Miyake no Muraji no Tokuko, both of whom had apparently been captured and taken by the Tang dynasty during the Baekje campaign. Apparently they had all traveled back from the Tang empire together to Silla, who then provided them passage to Yamato.
The timing of this suggests it may have had something to do with the changes going on in the Tang empire—changes that I desperately want to get into, but given that we are already a good ways into this current episode, I think I will leave it for later. But I will note this: Emperor Gaozong had passed away and his wife, Empress Wu Zetian, was now ruling as regent for her sons. Wu Zetian is probably the most famous empress in all of Chinese history, and while she held de facto power as a co-regent during her husband’s reign and as a regent during her sons’ reigns, she would actually ascend the throne herself in 690. Her reign as a woman during a time of heightened patriarchal tradition is particularly of note, and it leads us to wonder about the vilification that she received by the men who followed her rule. And I really want to get into all of that but, thematically, I think it better to wait. Those of you reading ahead in the syllabus—which is to say the Chronicles—probably know why. So let us just leave it there and say that the Tang was going through a few things, and that may explain why students were returning back in the company of former war captives.
A few months later, the Silla escort, Gim Mulyu, was sent home along with 7 people from Silla who had been washed ashore—presumably during a storm or other such event, again illustrating the dangers of taking to the ocean at this time. Perhaps related to that theme is the entry only a month later, which merely stated that Gim Jusan of Silla returned home. Gim Jusan was an envoy sent to Yamato in the 11th lunar month of 683. He was entertained in Tsukushi, and we are told that he returned to his own country on the 3rd month of 684. Now we are seeing an entry in the 4th month of 685 that this same person apparently returned home.
It is possible that something got mixed up, and that the Chroniclers were dealing with a typo in the records that made it seem like this took place a year later than it did. This was certainly an issue at this time, given all the math one had to do just to figure out what day it was. There is also the possibility that he returned on another embassy, but just wasn’t mentioned for some reason. The last possible explanation is that he somehow got lost and it took him a year to find his way back. Not entirely impossible back then, though I am a bit skeptical. Among other things, why would that note have found its way into the Chronicles in Yamato? While they were certainly using some continental sources, this seems like something they were talking about as far as him leaving the archipelago, rather than discussion of something happening elsewhere.
Speaking of happening elsewhere, I’m wondering about another event that happened around this time as well. In fact, it was while Gim Mulyu was still in the archipelago. For some reason the Yamato court granted rank to 147 individuals from Tang, Baekje, and Goguryeo. Interestingly, they don’t mention Silla. Furthermore, there is no real mention of any Tang envoys during this reign. In fact, there is hardly mention of the Tang dynasty at all. There is a mention of some 30 Tang men—captives, presumably—being sent to the Yamato court from Tsukushi. Those men were settled in Toutoumi, so there were men of Tang in the archipelago. But beyond that, there are only three other mentions of the Tang dynasty. One was when the students and war captives came back. Another was this note about giving rank to 147 individuals. Finally there is a similar record in 686, at the very end of the reign, where it is 34 persons who were given rank. This time it was to carpenters, diviners, physicians, students from Tang—possibly those who had just come back a year or so earlier.
So if there weren’t envoys from Tang, Goguryeo, and Baekje, who were these people and why were they being granted Yamato court rank? My assumption is that it was foreigners living in the archipelago, and being incorporated into the Yamato court system. Still, it is interesting that after the overtures by the Tang in the previous reign we have heard virtually nothing since then. Again, that is likely largely due to the conflicts between Tang and Silla, though now, things seem to be changing. The conflicts have settled down, and new rulers are in place, so we’ll see how things go.
Speaking of which, let’s finish up with the diplomatic exchanges in this reign. I’m only hitting some of the highlights here. First is the return from Silla, in the 5th month of 685, of Takamuku no Asomi no Maro and Tsuno no Asomi no Ushikahi. They had traveled to Silla in 684, and they did not come back emptyhanded. The new King of Silla presented them with gifts, including 2 horses, 3 dogs, 2 parrots, and 2 magpies. They also brought back the novice monks Kanjou and Ryoukan. Not bad, overall.
Then, 6 months later, another tribute mission came, but this one has an interesting—if somewhat questionable—note attached to it. It is said that the envoys Gim Jisyang and Gim Geonhun were sent to request “governance” and to bring tribute. This certainly go the court’s attention. They didn’t bring the envoys all the way to the capital, but they did send to them, in Tsukushi, Prince Kawachi, Ohotomo no Sukune no Yasumaro, Fujiwara no Asomi no Ohoshima, and Hodzumi no Asomi no Mushimaro. About three months later they send the musical performers from Kawaradera to provide entertainment during a banquet for the Silla envoy, and in payment some 5,000 bundles of rice rom the private lands attached to the queen’s palace were granted to the temple in gratitude.
The Silla tribute was then brought to the capital from Tsukushi. This time it was more than 100 items, including one fine horse, one mule, two dogs, a gold container inlaid with some kind of design, gold, silver, faint brocade, silk gauze, tiger and leopard skins, and a variety of medicines. In addition, as was now common, the envoys, Gim Jisyang and Gim Geonhun, apparently had personal gifts to give in the form of gold, silver, faint brocade, silk gauze, gold containers, screens, saddle hides, silk cloth, and more medicine. There were also gifts specifically for the sovereign, the queen, the Crown Prince, and for the various princes of the blood.
The court returned this favor with gifts to the envoys, presented at a banquet just for them, before sending them on their way.
A couple of notes. First off, it is interesting that they are entertained at Tsukushi rather than being invited to the capital, and I wonder if this was because the sovereign, Ohoama, wasn’t doing so well. This was all happening in 685 and 686, and the sovereign would pass away shortly afterwards. So it is possible that Ohoama just was not up to entertaining visitors at this time. Of course, the Chronicles often don’t tell us exactly why a given decision was made, only that it was. And sometimes not even that.
The other thing that seems curious is the mention of a request for governance. That almost sounds like Silla was asking to come under Yamato hegemony, which I seriously doubt. It may be that they were asking something along the lines of an alliance, but it is also possible that the scribes recording things for Yamato heard what they wanted to hear and so wrote it down in the light most favorable to Yamato laying claim to the peninsula.
Or perhaps I’m misunderstanding exactly what they were asking for. Maybe “governance” here means something else—perhaps just some kind of better relationship.
And with that, we’ll leave it for now. There is more developing in the next reign, but I think we want to wait until we get there. There are still a lot more things to cover in this reign before we move on—we haven’t even touched on the establishment of the new capital, on the various court events, not to mention some of the laws and punishments that this period is named for. And there is the minor issue of a rebellion. All of that will be dealt with. And then, after that, we get to the final reign of the Chronicles: the reign of Jitou Tennou. From there? Who knows.
It is the winter holiday season, so I hope everyone is enjoying themselves. Next episode will be the New Year’s recap, and then we should finish with this reign probably in January or early February.
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
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4.

New Year's Recap 2025

January 1, 2025 Joshua Badgley

Mt. Fuji from Miho Matsubara. Photo by author.

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Happy New Year!

Welcome to our 2025 recap. This episode we look back on the past year, but also try to make sure that we prepare for the next year. We’ll cover the big events and then go into some of the major themes that we’ve seen over the year. For that, we’ll also cover some of the previous history that has led up to the start of things this year.

One of the biggest things we’ll do is look at the various forms of power and influence used in the archipelago, based on what we can see in the archaeological record, but also on what we are told by the histories. There is still much that we don’t know, and one of the largest debates between the Chronicles and modern scholarly interpretations of events seems to be just how much control Yamato actually held prior to this period. However, from about the 7th century onwards, there appears to be enough correlation with other events that we have some idea of what was actually happening.

A key fact to remember is that we are in the middle of the 7th century, and the Nihon Shoki’s account ends in 697 CE—about twenty-three years earlier than the date it was published, in 720 CE. So these latter events would have been the ones with the most sources and the most people who probably remembered something about them—or had at least heard stories. In fact, we can imagine that someone who was 80 years old in 720 CE would have been born in 640, and would have been in the prime of their life by 660. So we are now within the period where people actually remembered the events the Chroniclers were writing about.

Chart showing the various lineages with bold outline around those referenced most heavily this year

Isshi Incident and the Taika Era

The majority of this year was focused on the changes that stemmed from the Isshi Incident, which spawned the Taika era—the era of “Great Change.” This is the start of the Ritsuryo era, and the birth of the bureaucratic state that would be used for some time to govern Yamato—and eventually Nihon, aka Japan.

Though it wouldn’t necessarily take a direct path—after building a grand palace in Naniwa, they moved back to Asuka. Still, they had expanded control throughout the archipelago, or so it seemed.

And now here we are: Takara hime is back on the throne, but Prince Naka no Oe is still Crown Prince and still has a lot of influence on the court.

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 2025!
It’s that time again: we are going to look back at what happened in the episodes this year. That was only episodes 101 to 117—we’ll skip the travelogue episodes for the time being. This covered the years of the early to mid-7th century, from roughly 613 to 659. That is easily within the lifetime of a single individual, and yet a lot was going on.
At the start of this year, we were at the height of Soga power. In 2023, we covered how back in 587, Soga no Umako had wrested power away from the powerful Mononobe clan, defeating Mononobe no Moriya. As you may recall, the sovereign known to posterity as Jimmu Tennou was the descendant of the Heavenly Grandchild known as Ninigi no Mikoto, at least according to the Nihon Shoki. The Mononobe clan claimed descent from none other than Nigi Hayahi, the Other Heavenly Grandchild, whose offspring were said to have been defeated by Jimmu.
You may recall that scholars generally consider the story of Jimmu, and the nine sovereigns that immediately followed him, as almost certainly a later addition to the story of the royal lineage. So when did the story of Nigi no Hayahi’s defeat enter the picture? And was its inclusion perhaps related to the defeat of the Mononobe by the Soga family? A family that successfully intermarried with the Royal House, themselves, such that all later sovereigns would trace their ancestry back to the Soga house?
Of course, under Soga dominance we saw the rise of figures like the Soga descended Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno. During her reign, major reforms were carried out, Buddhism became fully established by the State, and ties with the continent were strengthened.
Politics would continue to be dominated by Soga, even after the death of Soga no Umako and Kashikiya Hime, with Soga no Emishi taking up the mantle of Prime Minister, working closely with his son, Soga no Iruka. The Soga family was so entwined with the politics of rulership that the main rivals of the Soga were… the Soga. That is to say different Soga-descended lineages, like that of the Prince Umayado, aka Prince Shotoku. Rather than supporting Umayado’s son, Prince Yamashiro no Oe, Soga no Emishi backed another candidate to the throne, Prince Tamura. , of the royal Okinaga lineage. Tamura came to power as Jomei Tenno, but there is little doubt that Soga no Emishi was the one in control.
Later, when Tamura passed away in 641, Yamashiro no Oe continued to be passed over. In fact, Soga no Emishi supported the ascension of Tamura’s wife, Takara hime, over Yamashiro no Oe, and there is evidence that he supported a prince known as Furubito no Oe as the Crown Prince and eventual successor. All of the evidence—which, to be honest, is rather biased—suggests that the Soga family were setting up a series of puppet rulers who would do their bidding, or at least be pliable to their suggestions.
There must have been some pushback, though, especially when one considers how strong the cult of Prince Shotoku, aka Umayado, would eventually become. One imagines that Prince Yamashiro was another pole around which those who opposed the Soga family could rally. After all, he was the son of Crown Prince Umayado, and likely had just as much of a claim as Tamura and his children. And so, to counter this threat, Soga no Emishi’s son and successor, Soga no Iruka, took matters into his own hands.
In a brazen display of the violence of court politics, Soga no Iruka had Yamashiro no Oe accused of plotting against the throne and took an army to arrest him—no doubt in the hope that the prince would resist. Eventually they cornered Yamashiro and his family, who committed suicide rather than submit.
This attack was likely targeted to take out the rival to the Soga family’s preferred Crown Prince, Prince Furubito no Oe, but rather than quell any dissent, the move seems to have enflamed the passions of those who wanted to see an end to the Soga house. Those passions took particular root in none other than Furubito no Oe’s younger brother, Prince Naka no Oe. Together with the support of his uncle, Prince Karu; the head of the Nakatomi house, Nakatomi no Kamatari; as well as another scion of the Soga house, Soga no Kuroyamada, Prince Naka no Oe staged a coup d’etat. Using the death of Prince Yamashiro no Oe as an excuse, they engineered a plot to assassinate Soga no Iruka in court, in front of Naka no Oe’s own mother, Takara Hime no Oho-kimi. After Iruka’s death, Naka no Oe and his supporters then took the fight to Soga no Emishi, who committed suicide and set his own house on fire in what came to be known as the Isshi Incident.
This shocking assassination caused Takara hime to step down. The Soga-backed Prince Furubito no Oe, rather than stepping up and taking the throne, retreated to a Buddhist temple and took holy orders, effectively retiring and theoretically taking himself out of court politics. That left Prince Naka no Oe and his uncle, Prince Karu, as possible candidates.
We are told that Prince Naka no Oe declined to take the throne himself, instead supporting his uncle, Prince Karu. Prince Karu took the throne, and is known to us as Kotoku Tenno, today. Prince Naka no Oe stepped up as the Crown Prince, and with the help of his co-conspirators, such as Nakatomi no Kamatari, Soga no Kurayamada, and others, they began a project to remake the Yamato government, using continental models—specifically the Sui and Tang courts, which were also influencing the governments of the Korean peninsula, such as those of Baekje and Silla.
This is known as the Taika, or Great Change, era. There had been previous movements to adopt some of the continental trends, but nothing to this extent, which culminated in a tremendous palace complex built in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. Governors were sent out to the east of the country. The old, decentralized system was being replaced by a centralized bureaucracy.
And yet this wasn’t entirely a smooth transition. Early on there was a threat by supporters of the previous Crown Prince, Furubito no Oe. He was killed to put down any possible revolt. Later, Naka no Oe was hoodwinked into going after his own co-conspirator, Soga no Kurayamada, resulting in Kurayamada’s death and the punishment of his entire family. A few years later, Naka no Oe moved back to Asuka, taking most of the royal family and the court with him, abandoning the grand government complex that they had built in Naniwa for reasons that remain unclear.
Shortly thereafter, Karu, aka Kotoku Tenno, passed away. But rather than Naka no Oe taking the throne—or even Karu’s son, Prince Arima—the throne went back to Naka no Oe’s mother, Takara Hime. This is the only case we have of a single sovereign reigning twice, and the Chroniclers gave her two separate regnal names—Kogyoku Tenno to refer to her first reign and Saimei Tenno to refer to her second.
And this is the reign that we are going to start the new year with.
Beyond what was going on on the archipelago, there was also plenty that we covered on the continent. We started the year with the Sui dynasty having consolidated control and working to continue to expand their territory north, south, and west, while also connecting the economic areas of the Yangzi and Yellow rivers.
Unfortunately, through their wars and public works projects they overextended themselves, and the dynasty fell, replaced, in 619, with the Tang dynasty. The Tang continued to expand, taking control of important points on the Silk Road and becoming a hub of trade and commerce. At the same time, they were contesting their borders with the Goguryeo, who, themselves, had come under the control of Yeon Gaesomun, an infamous noble and anti-Tang hard-liner, who had staged a coup, murdered the Goguryeo king and any who stood against him, and who had installed a puppet king on the throne. It is little wonder that the Tang dynasty was courting Goguryeo’s enemy, Silla, to pressure them from the other side. This eventually kicked off the Tang-Goguryeo war, with the loosely allied Tang and Silla fighting on and off with Goguryeo and their ally, Baekje, who was also invested in stifling Silla’s ambitions on the peninsula.
So that’s where we are: The Korean peninsula is currently embroiled in conflict between the three kingdoms on the peninsula and the nearby superpower, the Tang Dynasty. Meanwhile, Yamato, on the archipelago, is going through a whole… thing. What that is, we’ll try to get into over the next year.
Given all of this, let’s go over some of the themes from the past year. To start with, let’s talk about expanding Yamato influence.
From what we can tell, Yamato’s influence in the archipelago had peaked around the 5th century, between the creation of giant Daisen Ryo kofun and the reign of Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tenno. Wakatake no Ohokimi had courtiers from as far away as Kyushu and the Kanto plain. However, from what I can tell, Yamato’s influence appears to have temporarily waned, possibly coinciding with the end of Wakatake’s own dynasty, with a new dynasty coming to power in the 6th century.
It is possible that Wakatake was simply never quite as powerful as the Chronicles make out, but there are a few other things that make me think that the end of the 5th and early half of the 6th century were a low point in Yamato’s power. For one thing, we see a drop off in interactions with the continent after 479—or at least anything beyond the tip of the Korean peninsula. In addition, we see smaller rooms built in the region of the Nara Basin and the Kawachi plain, while more “royal” tombs continue to appear elsewhere in the archipelago. It isn’t that they stopped, but the size decreased, suggesting that Yamato didn’t have the same labor pool it used to.
On top of that, we have the dynastic change. We are told that the line related to Wakatake died out and they had to bring in someone from Afumi and Koshi, who traced their lineage back to the legendary Homuda-wake, aka Ōjin tennō, some five generations back. Many scholars suggest that this connection was a later merging of the lineages, suggesting that, in reality, an entirely new branch of sovereigns had come to power.
Finally, we can see the Chronicles focusing more and more on the areas near to Yamato, the area known as the Home Provinces, possibly because Yamato only held direct control over these areas, while control beyond that was only nominal. Local elites in those regions had a lot of autonomy, and if Yamato did not have anything in particular to offer them, they would not have a reason to necessarily go along with Yamato’s requests.
This may have even been part of the impetus for the so-called “rebellion” by Iwai, in Kyushu. As you may recall, in the early 6th century Iwai attempted to ally with Silla against Yamato and Baekje, with the idea of cutting off Yamato’s access to the continent. This ultimately failed, and Yamato ended up creating what would become the Dazaifu near modern Fukuoka, but the fact that Iwai could contemplate it and gather such support would suggest that Yamato was at least perceived as vulnerable.
Now up to this point, we see several different policies that were used for increasing the court’s control. Early on, this was done by doling out various elite goods. We also see Yamato soft power in the form of spiritual authority and the expansion of local Yamato cultic practices out into the other lands of the archipelago. There was also the tradition of monumental tombs, and especially the royal keyhole style tombs, which spread out from Yamato and was likely as much an indication that those regions saw Yamato practices as worthy of emulation, at the least, and perhaps saw Yamato as a cultural nexus on the archipelago.
To all of this, they eventually added the “Be” system. This appears to have been copied from systems being used on the Korean peninsula, and it focused on creating familial units to organize various industries, with family heads responsible for reporting and funneling necessary goods up to the court. This eventually included the noble “uji” clans, with their power bases in various geographic regions.
Yamato extended its influence through a variety of methods, including various public works projects. These included things like the building of ponds, or reservoirs, which would have been critical to the wet-rice paddy agriculture that was the economic backbone of the Yamato government.
Another means of extending government control was the “miyake”, or Royal Granaries. Originally we see these set up in the Nara basin, but during the current dynasty they had been extended all the way out to Kyushu. Ostensibly, they were there to collect rice for taxes, but they appear to have acted as government offices, providing a presence for Yamato even out in the hinterlands. Eventually they would turn the area in Kyushu, the Dazai, into its own, semi-autonomous extension of the Yamato government, as well.
In the past year of the podcast, we’ve seen many of those older forms of government control replaced with a new bureaucratic system. This included an upgrade to the rank system, which was a way for the government to both organize the bureaucracy while also creating a means to award individuals. Early rank systems had initially been granted at the family level, but following a continental model meant that the new system was based solely on the individual. Thus they could hand out rank to various kings and chieftains across the archipelago and entice them into the Yamato orbit, a trick they had been doing previously as well with various types of recognition. Those that took the titles and rank that Yamato handed out gained a certain amount of legitimacy, locally, but since that legitimacy was tied to the Yamato court, it also helped solidify Yamato’s own influence on those areas.
That doesn’t mean that all expansion was peaceful. Yamato contested on their eastern and northern border with the people referred to as the Emishi, which eventually included contests as far north as the island of Hokkaido with the Mishihase people.
There was another form of soft power used by the court in the way that it supported Buddhism, which was still a new religion at this point, having arrived in the early part of the 6th century. Patronage of Buddhism would lead to the building of temples and otherwise claiming some authority in the spiritual realm, beyond simply the court’s control of the Mt. Miwa site. Furthermore, the state itself took particular interest in Buddhist institutions, and cracked down heavily on the clergy, ensuring that they reported up to the court, formally solidifying the connection between temples and the State.
But then they went a bit further and instituted actual governors. They were appointed by the Yamato government, and they were particularly installed in the Eastern lands—referred to as provinces. These governors reported to the court, and appear to have initially been separate from locally recognized elites, who were known as the Kuni no Miyatsuko. The governors were to take stock of the areas under their authority and report up information such as a summary of the lands and local census information. This meant that Yamato did not need to rely on local elites to administer an area, they would have greater insight into what was actually going on.
This was all combined with the institution of new laws on taxes, corvee labor, and more, while eliminating traditional practices such as the Miyake and even royal tomb-building. The latter was likely affected by the various public works projects, but also the fact that more work was going into the building of things like Buddhist temples.
As we noted back in the previous year, Buddhist temple building appears to have had a hand in the end of the prolific kofun building, at least in Yamato proper. Kofun were memorials—meant to carry on the memory of an individuals well after their death. They were ritual sites, and families were set up to care for them.
Temples, likewise, were erected with certain memorial qualities. Donating to build a temple was thought to increase one’s karma, and thus do wonders for your next life. Temple patrons would be remembered, and services were carried out, but temples also had a certain public aspect to them, as well. On top of that, they were new, and no doubt exotic, with their tiled rooves, intricate carvings, and colorful buildings. Much of the labor that would have built tombs appears to have been co-opted, instead, to build temples.
Some of the temples founded in this period include Asuka dera, aka Hokoji, built on or near the Soga family compound, as well as other Asuka temples, such as Yamadadera, Kawaradera, Toyouradera, and Kudaradera. There was also Houryuji, erected by Prince Umayado near his house, and the ancient temple of Shitennouji, erected in Naniwa. Of these, both Horyuji and Shitennoji continue, today, at or near their original with some of the oldest extant buildings in Japan. Asukadera was moved to its modern site of Gangoji, in Nara city proper, but there is still a smaller Asukadera on the original site, with what may be one of the original images, though the buildings have been rebuilt after numerous fires and disasters over the years.
Of course, a big part of all of these foreign ideas, such as Buddhism but also Confucian thought as well, was the growing influence of the continent, whether in the form of Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, or beyond. While there had been influence ever since the Yayoi period—and arguably even during the Jomon, in some instances—there seems to have been an acceleration once Yamato began to import Buddhism, which was likely connected with all of the learning and texts that were also being imported around that time. Then, during the Sui and Tang dynasties—both of which the Chronicles simply label as the “Great Tang”—the court sent several embassies to the Sui and Tang emperors, bringing back individuals with actual experience in the way things were happening outside of the archipelago.
And we should not discount the various embassies to and from the Korean peninsula. Yamato was increasing its involvement in peninsular affairs. They continued to be concerned with the state of Nimna, also known as Imna or Mimana, which had been assimilated by Silla, along with the rest of Gaya, or Kara, by the early to mid-6th century, with many accounts dealing with attempts to reinstate Nimna as a separate and sovereign entity. Along with this, Yamato continued their relationship with Baekje, who sent Prince Pung to reside at the Yamato court. This continued a long-standing tradition that is portrayed as a type of diplomatic hostage, though there have been several times that princes at the Yamato court came back to Baekje to rule after the king died or was killed.
All of this to say that not only did ambassadors from Yamato go to these countries, but ambassadors also traveled to Yamato, while various immigrants from these areas of Baekje, Silla, and even Goguryeo occasionally settled in Yamato. This further increased the number of individuals with knowledge and experience of continental concepts and technology, and we can see their influence in numerous different ways.
This was all part of what led to the Yamato government’s adoption of Tang style law codes, though it should be noted that the law codes were not taken wholecloth. Rather, they were adapted specifically to the issues of the archipelago. This was the beginning of what came to be known as the Ritsuryo system, literally the system of laws and punishments.
Under this system, the government went from a single Oho-omi, or great minister, to two Great ministers, one of the left and one of the right. These would come to be known as the Sadaijin and the Udaijin. Nakatomi no Kamatari was afforded a special place as the third minister, the minister of the center, or Naidaijin, possibly referring to his responsibilities with the interior of the royal household, while the ministers of the left and right would have had particular ministries beneath them - eight ministries in total, with various departments underneath them. They would be assigned to report either to the Minister of the Left or the Minister of the Right, each one overseeing, effectively, half of the government portfolio.
This system, combined with the governors and the Tomo no Miyatsuko in the provinces, meant that Yamato had much more granular control over the workers and the means of production. They organized households into villages, and villages into districts. There were lower level officials who reported up the chain all the way to the great ministers, the Daijin, or Oho-omi. This meant that they effectively abolished the Be and Uji system, at least as it had been set up. These familial groups continued to operate as families, or perhaps more appropriately as “clans”, given how the groups had come to be.
These officials were granted rank and, more importantly, stipends from the government. A portion of taxes, which were paid in rice, went to various officials. This meant that officials not only relied on the government for their status, but for their incomes as well.
This went along with an attempt to implement something known as the “equal field system”, imported, again, from the continent. This determined who would work what fields, and was another way that the government was involved down to the actual labor producing the rice that was the economic engine of the State.
And that covers most of what we’ve been up to this past year. There have been individual accomplishments that we didn’t get into, but there is plenty there if you want to listen to it.
So that covers the past year in the podcast—a little over half of the 7th century. It really was a time of dramatic change—whether or not “Taika” was the name given to part of it, it certainly feels appropriate. Even though the court eventually moved to Naniwa, this is the height of the Asuka period, and the start of the Ritsuryo state. It would form the foundations for what was to come, and themes from this period will continue to show up again and again.
In this next year, we are going to continue to look at Takara Hime’s reign and beyond. We’ll see the resolution of the Tang-Goguryeo war, and the impact of all the continental fighting on the archipelago. We’ll also see continued developments within the archipelago itself, hopefully getting through to the end of the 7th century.
We are actually reaching the end of the material in the Nihon Shoki. This does not mean that we are running out of material, though. The Chronicles end in 697—less than 40 years out from our current place in the Chronicles. From there, we have the Shoku Nihongi, which covers 95 years, until 797 CE. Translation of much of the Shoku Nihongi is available through the work of Dr. Ross Bender, and you can find his work online if you want to get a leg up on the reading, though that is a ways out. For now, we can still comfortably continue with the Nihon Shoki, at least through the reign of Temmu Tennou.
Until then, Happy New Year! As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support. Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her 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.

References

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Bauer, M. (2020). The History of the Fujiwara House: A Study and Annotated Translation of the Toshi Kaden. Amsterdam University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv125jv4q
Hudson, M. J., lewallen, ann-elise, & Watson, M. K. (Eds.). (2014). Beyond Ainu Studies: Changing Academic and Public Perspectives. University of Hawai’i Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt6wqw7k
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Lewis, Mark Edward (2009). China’s Cosmopolitan Empire: The Tang Dynasty. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts / London, England. ISBN 978-0-674-03306-1
Van Goethem, E. E. M. A. (2009). Capital and Countryside in Japan, 300-1180: Japanese Historians Interpreted in English (Joan R. Piggott, ed.). Journal of Asian Studies, 68(3), 988–90.
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition. ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
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Kiyotaka Tanikawa, Mitsuru Sōma (2004). On the Totality of the Eclipse in AD 628 in the Nihongi. Publications of the Astronomical Society of Japan. Vol. 56, Issue 1, 25 February 2004. pp. 215–224. https://doi.org/10.1093/pasj/56.1.215
Benn, Charles (2002). China’s Golden Age: Everyday Life in the Tang Dynasty. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0-19-517665-0
Hudson, M. J. (1999). Ainu Ethnogenesis and the Northern Fujiwara. Arctic Anthropology, 36(1/2), 73-83. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40316506
Yamaura, K. (1998). The Sea Mammal Hunting Cultures of the Okhotsk Sea with Special Reference to Hokkaido Prehistory. Arctic Anthropology, 35(1), 321-334. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40316472
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Episode 103: The Queen is Dead...

February 16, 2024 Joshua Badgley

An 18th century artist’s interpretation of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennō. Original by Tosa Mitsuyoshi in 1726, in the collection of Eifukuji temple. Public domain image found at Wikimedia Commons.

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This episode there is definitely a need to help sort out some names. We’ll start right up front with a lineage chart so that you can see how some of the

So let’s go through some of the Who’s Who here:

Kashikiya Hime

The sovereign, Suiko Tennō. She was the daughter of Amekunioshi and Kitashi Hime. Kitashi Hime was the daughter of Soga no Iname. She then married her half-brother, Nunakura Futodamashiki (Bidatsu Tennō). She was likely just another consort, but when Nunakura’s designated queen, Okinaga no Hirohime, passed away, Kashikiya Hime was raised up in her place—or so we are told. After Nunakura’s death, his son and presumptive heir, Prince Hikobito, was killed in the chaos during the next several reigns. Kashikiya Hime’s brother, Tachibana, came to the throne as Yōmei Tennō, and later her half-brother, Anahobe no Hasebe, as Sujun Tennō. Tachibana died early into his reign, assuming he did actually reign, and Hasebe was killed by Soga no Umako, the “great minister” (ōmi) and uncle to both Hasebe and Kashikiya Hime. Kashikiya Hime was eventually put on the throne and became known to us as Suiko Tennō. Her son, Prince Takeda, passed away at some point—possibly before she came to the throne. And so she made her nephew, Prince Umayado, aka Shōtoku Taishi, the heir and Crown Prince.

In the end, she outlived both Umayado and Umako, passing away in 628 CE, having reigned for about 35 years or so.

A wooded hillock under a blue sky. An earthen wall appears to surround it. In the lower left corner is a torii gate, indicating the hill as sacred. The tumulus is surrounded by — Yamada Takatsuka kofun, traditionally believed to be the resting place of Kashikiya Hime and her son, Prince Takeda. Image public domain from Wikimedia Commons.

Prince Takeda

Prince Takeda was the son of Kashikiya Hime and Nunakura Futodamashiki. His position as a possible heir is evidence through the fact that he was targeted by Nakatomi no Katsumi along with Prince Hikobito during the Soga-Mononobe conflict that was part of the larger struggle for the throne at the end of the 6th century. He must have passed away at some point—the last we see of him in the Nihon Shoki is in 587, during the assault on the Mononobe. We know that he predeceased his mother as she was buried in his tomb. This is traditionally believed to be Yamada Takatsuka kofun, but may refer to another nearby kofun. Both of these are rectangular kofun. In the case of Takatsuka, it may have originally been square and then had the shape changed at a later point, which might indicate Kashikiya Hime’s burial and modifications made to the tomb. This could also help explain why Kashikiya Hime’s burial took so long.

Soga no Ōmi no Umako

Umako was the son of Soga no Iname, the scion of the Soga household, and the “great minister”—the chief position of the court, especially after he led the Soga family and allies against the formerly powerful Mononobe. He is depicted helping Kashikiya Hime rule, but predeceased his niece by several years. His position as Ōmi and head of the Soga house passed to his son, Soga no Emishi.

Soga no Sakaibe no Omi no Marise

Marise is a somewhat enigmatic figure. The Chronicles do not clearly give his relationship to Soga no Emishi and Soga no Umako, but they do indicate that he is a member of their family. Current understanding is that he was brother to Soga no Umako, and uncle to Soga no Emishi. The name “Sakaibe” (or Sakahibe) first shows up during this reign, and Marise is mentioned several times throughout the reign, including as a general fighting on the Korean peninsula and providing a eulogy at Kitashi Hime’s burial.

Soga no Ōmi no Emishi

Son of Soga no Umako. He took over the role of Ōmi after his father passed away. He was the head of the Soga family, but he doesn’t seem to be very active prior to the events of 628, at which point he appears to have been trying to gain an even stronger position. Although he likely inherited the position from his father, in 628, Soga no Emishi, he didn’t have the string of political victories behind him that his father had.

Copy of an 8th century image of Prince Shōtoku Taishi surrounded by his younger brother, Prince Eguri, on the left, and his son, Prince Yamashiro, on the right. Image public domain, from the treasury of Hōryūji via Wikimedia Commons

Prince Yamashiro no Ōe

Yamashiro no Ōe was the son of Prince Umayado and Tojiko no Iratsume. Tojiko herself was the daughter of Soga no Umako, and thus sister to Soga no Emishi, making Emishi the uncle to Prince Yamashiro. As the son of Umayado, living at the palace at Ikaruga, it would be logical to think that he would be the heir, since had Umayado come to the throne then Prince Yamashiro would have naturally been next in line, especially given his direct maternal connection to the powerful Soga family.

Prince Hase

Aka Prince “Hatsuse” was another son of Prince Umayado, and half-brother to Prince Yamashiro. His mother was Kashiwade no Hokikimi no Iratsume. We are given very little about him, other than he seems to have lived in Ikaruga with his half-brother, and was one of his brother’s supporters for the throne.

Prince Tamura

Prince Tamura is the son of Prince Hikobito, the apparent heir presumptive under Nunakura Futodamashiki by his wife, Okinaga no Hirohime. That name “Okinaga” shows up in the royal lineage at least back to Okinaga no Tarashi Hime, aka Jingū Tennō. If we take the position that every sovereign is supposed to be descended from a “royal” lineage, then it may be that Hirohime’s children had a stronger claim to the throne than any of the Soga descended lines. In addition, Prince Tamura’s mother was Nukade Hime, a daughter of Tachibana, aka Yōmei Tennō, and a half-sister to Prince Umayado. That all gave Prince Tamura a fairly strong claim to the throne. Whereas previous challenges have come from individuals that we are told are bothers, here we have two competing lineages, both tracing all the way back to Amekunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niwa, aka Kinmei Tennō.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 103: The Queen is Dead.
Quick content warning up front, while most of this is just politics, there is mention of some violence and even suicide towards the end of the episode. I have attempted to keep it mostly to the facts, but if that is something that concerns you, please be aware.
The year is 628, and the mood in the inner chambers of the palace is somber. The court is no stranger to illness; after all, when the Oho-omi, Soga no Umako, had grown ill, a thousand individuals had entered religion to pray for his recovery. He had recovered from that, indeed, only to pass away two years ago. His son, Soga no Emishi, had taken his place at court and at the head of the powerful Soga family.
This time, though, it is different. The sovereign, Kashikiya Hime’s illness affects the entire court. After more than 30 years of her rulership, it seems that the Great Queen of Yamato will not recover, this time. A handful of maids and selected members of the royal family are called into the inner chambers of the palace, tending to her in her final moments. The mood is tense, not just because of the impending death, but also because of the uncertainty for the future. After all, the Crown Prince, Umayado, had passed away approximately six year earlier, and nobody has been named as his replacement. Kashikiya Hime’s own son, Prince Takeda, had passed away some time earlier and is already buried.
Now the inner circle wonders if she will name he successor, or will she pass on without doing so, leaving the throne empty, and setting up yet another bloody power struggle like the ones at the end of Nunakura Futodamashiki’s, aka Bidatsu Tennou’s, reign. Many people still remember what had happened then—they had possibly even lived through it, recalling the Soga and the Mononobe raising up armies, the fighting across the land, and the accusations and repercussions that followed, and forced many on the losing side into hiding.
And they know there are several candidates waiting in the wings. For example, there is Prince Tamura, son of Prince Hikobito, who had been slain in the succession disputes that eventually ended up putting Kashikiya Hime on the throne. That made him a grandson of Nunakura Futodamashiki no Ohokimi and his first wife, Hirohime. His mother is the royal princess Nukade, daughter of Tachibana no Ohokimi and sister to Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, giving him a full royal pedigree to draw from.
There is also prince Yamashiro, the eldest son of Prince Umayado and Tojiko no Iratsume, one of the daughters of the late Soga no Umako, the powerful Oho-omi who had raised up the Soga family. Umayado’s fame is well known as the saintly Shotoku Taishi, the previous Crown Prince. He is known to be close to the queen, Kashikiya Hime, and there is not a little bit of speculation as to whether or not she will name him to take up his father’s mantle. He has, after all, succeeded his father in his own household, living in his father’s palace at Ikaruga, near the family temple of Houryuuji.
Both candidates, Tamura and Yamashiro, are called to Kashikiya Hime’s bedside, and there she gives each of them instructions as to what to do upon her demise.
Not too long after that, Kashikiya Hime passes away.
The Queen is dead. Long live the… well, who, exactly?
--------------
So we have been covering Yamato during the reign of Kashikiya Hime, from 593 right up to 628, and what a reign it has been. The Soga family had married into the royal line and then, with the death of Nunakura Futodamashiki , placed princes of Soga descent on the throne. And if you want to go back and listen to all of that, then probably go back to about episode 90 or so. During this period, we’ve seen the building of Buddhist temples—at least 46, we are told—and we see Yamato explicitly adopting certain concepts of statecraft and kingship from the continent. I say explicitly because there are certain things, like the Uji and Be system of clans and the accompanying kabane ranking system that appear to have come over as well, but the Chroniclers never really acknowledge that, treating it as though they were always a thing. We see the rise of the Sui and transition over to the Tang dynasty on the continent, and Silla continue to expand and solidify their control on the peninsula.
We are now towards the end of the reign. As noted before, Prince Umayado, aka the Crown Prince, Shotoku Taishi, passed away in about 622, and after he died, no other Crown Prince appears to have been selected. Umayado was one of the three people seen as holding the reins of state at this time, with the other two being Kashikiya Hime, of course, and her uncle, Soga no Umako.
There are some who even suggest that Soga no Umako, as Oho-omi, was actually in control, and Kashikiya Hime was simply a puppet figure. That seems to be countered by something that happened about 623 or 624, two years after Umayado passed away, when Soga no Umako sent Adzumi no Muraji and Abe no Omi no Maro to Kashikiya Hime to request that he be given the district of Katsuraki, as that is where he was from and where he took his name. Beyond the fact that this gives us some insight into the origins of the Soga family—or at least the origins they claimed for themselves—it is interesting for us now because of Kashikiya Hime’s response. She first noted her close ties to her Soga uncle, and went on to say that, under normal circumstances she would do anything she could to fulfill his requests, but in this case, it was a little bit too much, even for her. If she said yes and gave him and the Soga family the entire district of Katsuraki, what would future generations say about her?
Now it is difficult to say if this actually happened, or if it was part of what appears to be a smear campaign against the Soga family, who, spoiler alert, would eventually be accused of trying to usurp the power of even the sovereigns themselves. That said, it seems like the kind of thing that is just plausible, though possibly using a bit more justification to back up the request. Still, the Chroniclers at least were providing agency to Kashikiya Hime.
Soga no Umako, who had been Oho-omi for some time, would pass away a few years later. That year, we are told that peach and plum trees blossomed, and that the third month of the year, probably late March or April, it was particularly cold, and a hoar frost fell across Yamato. Two months later, Soga no Umako died.
He was buried at Momohara, probably at the place known as Ishibutai Kofun. This was a large, square shaped kofun, but today it has all but worn away, so that you can see the giant stones that once made up the internal structure of the tumulus. Unfortunately, this means that any grave goods have long since been taken and any organic material has probably completely disappeared, but it is an amazing tomb to get an idea of what inside of a 7th century kofun looks like.
Soga no Umako lived in the family mansion on the banks of the Asuka river. We know roughly where it was, since Houkouji Temple used part of the Soga land for its own founding, and so would have been right next to Umako’s mansion. We also know that it had a water feature, a kind of pond, with an island, or “Shima”. Sometimes Soga no Umako would be known as Soga no Shima. I suspect that his son, Soga no Emishi, who took up Soga no Umako’s post as Oho-omi, also took up residence here, as the Sendai Kuji Hongi also references him as Soga no Shima at one point, though that could just be a mistake of some kind.
The next month after Soga no Umako’s death was also pretty bad—we are told that snow fell in the sixth month, and then there were continual rains from the 3rd to the 7th month. This led to famine, and both the old and young died of starvation or disease. People were eating whatever weeds and herbs they could find, and banditry and thievery increased as people grew more and more desperate.
It didn’t get any better the next year, which saw more omens and strange reports. Apparently a badger up in Michinoku, referring to the Tohoku region, turned into a man—possibly a reference to similar stories about tanuki and the belief in other shape-changing animals, but definitely a weird thing to occur. And then, there was a huge swarm of flies, we are told, that gathered together and flew east over the Shinano pass. Reports said they were as loud as thunder, and they dispersed when they reached the land of Kamitsukenu. Aston suggests this probably refers to Usui Toge, a pass between modern Yamanashi and Gunma prefectures, near Karuizawa.
I don’t have any explanation for either event to give you. I’m sure it meant something to the people of the time, but looking back, I suspect they were interpreted as stormclouds on the horizon. And that is because, in the 2nd month of 628, Kashikiya Hime took ill. On the second day of the following month the Chronicles record that there was a total eclipse of the sun, and four days later, Kashikiya Hime took a turn for the worse.
Fun fact in this morbid narrative: that total eclipse of the sun might just give us a verifiable date, here, because we can calculate astronomical phenomena like eclipses. In fact, given the impact of the events around this particular one, it has been specifically studied, and you can check out the work of Tanikawa Kiyotaka and Souma Mitsuru, titled “On the Totality of the Eclipse in AD 628 in the Nihongi”, published in 2004 in “Publications of the Astronomical Society of Japan”, and I’ll provide a link in the blog post. TL:DR – There was an eclipse on April 10, 628, and based on the work of Tanikawa and Souma it was likely visible from the archipelago. There is some question as to whether or not it was a “total” eclipse when viewed from the Nara basin, and specifically from the palace at Asuka, and it is even possible that the Chroniclers were using continental records to verify the actual dates and conditions—not to mention the way that stories can grow in the telling of them. However, it is highly likely that they did witness an eclipse of some sort, and this gives us some solid dates for everything else.
That means that Kashikiya Hime likely took ill in late March of 628, and then her illness took a turn for the worse on the 14th of April, at least according to our modern calendar.
And yes, there is some discrepancy in those. We would say that April 14th is the 14th day of the fourth month, not the sixth day of the third. However, we are dealing with the conversion of ancient, lunar calendar dates into a modern, western, solar calendar dates. Even now, just a few days before this episode airs, we just went through the Lunar New Year in much of Asia, based on the descendant of that same lunar calendar. That New Year happened February 10, 2024, but for the Lunar calendar, that would be the first day of the first month. And that isn’t even going into all the various corrections that both calendars have gone through over the centuries—don’t get me started on Julian versus Gregorian dates, or how that affects various lunar festivals that are now tied to a solar calendar. However, I think that putting the date in a modern, solar calendar context can help people get a better appreciation of the seasons and what was going on. As Kashikiya Hima took ill, spring had sprung in the Nara basin, and the cherry blossoms were likely in full bloom. And yet, even as that was happening, the mood in the palace was dire.
It’s fitting, perhaps, because today, cherry blossoms, for all their beauty and the fact that they are blooming at a time that life is seemingly returning, are often considered a metaphor for the all too fleeting impermanence of this mortal existence. They blossom in beautiful and spectacular color, but all too quickly they are gone.
And so, too, did it seem that Kashikiya Hime’s time was coming to a close. She was 75 years old, and she had ruled the realm since 592, about 36 years, not including the time before that spent as a consort or the two short reigns in between. She had been the sovereign over some of the most influential periods of Yamato history, including the spread of Buddhism and the introduction of new, continental styles of learning and governance.
Now, she was on her deathbed. Surrounded by her maids and various royal princes and princesses, she called two of those princes, in particular, to her bedside. Specifically, she called Prince Tamura and she also called Yamashiro no Ohoye. As previously noted, they were the two most likely candidates for succession. Kashikiya Hime provided instructions to each of them in relative privacy, and those appear to have been her last words, as she passed away the next day.
As was customary, she was temporarily placed in the southern hall of the palace while arrangements were made for her funeral.
Preparations for here burial would take some time, and so it was on the 20th day of the ninth month—over 6 months later—that the rites to officially mourn the deceased sovereign were held. A shrine was erected at the southern court of the old palace, which served as her temporary burial place, and each minister pronounced a funeral eulogy. Four days later, she was buried, in accordance with her wishes, in the tomb of her son, Prince Takeda, who had passed away before her. She had requested this, instead of building her own tomb mound, to avoid placing a burden on the country given the famine that people had been going through, or so we are told. Traditionally, she is believed to have been buried at Yamada Takatsuka Kofun, aka Takamatsu Kofun, in Yamada, in the Taishi-cho area of the Southern Kawachi district in modern Osaka, though some have suggested nearby Ueyama Kofun. Both are rectangular kofun, rather than the keyhole shaped tombs of previous rulers, but that makes sense if she was buried in the kofun that had been built for her son, who never sat on the throne. It also may just speak to the changing norms of the time, where keyhole shaped tombs seemed to no longer be the done thing.
Regardless of where she was buried, her death left a power vacuum, as there was no clearly designated heir to the throne. There were at least two candidates, and we’ve seen where that has led in the past—warfare and bloodshed. No doubt there was a palpable feeling of anticipation and anxiety around Kashikiya Hime’s death. Would rival camps start feuding, once again, over who should sit on the throne? Would there be another deadly fight for power?
In addition to the existential threat, whoever the new sovereign was that came to power could have huge effects on the court. They could appoint new families to take the Oho-omi or Oho-muraji positions, and they would no doubt reward those who supported them in helping to come to the throne. Those on the losing side could find themselves on the political outs—or worse.
Soga no Emishi was the most powerful member of the court at that time. He was the current head of the powerful Soga family, the son of Soga no Umako, and the Oho-omi, the most powerful position in the court. He had his own thoughts on who should be sovereign, and if he could have, no doubt he would have simply appointed someone and made it a fait accompli. However, even his power had limits, and he knew that if he put someone on the throne unilaterally he would likely be opposed by the other ministers, if only because they didn’t want to cede him that much power. Therefore, he would need to get them to go along with it.
And so, one of the first things he did was to press his uncle, Sakahibe no Marise no Omi, asking him his thoughts about whom the new sovereign should be. Marise told Emishi that he believed Prince Yamashiro would be the best candidate. Remember, Prince Yamashiro was the son of the Crown Prince, the late Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. His father had been well respected and deeply involved in all aspects of the government, and Prince Yamashiro had largely taken his place, living as he was in his father’s old compound in Ikaruga, where Umayado had erected the temple of Houryuuji. On top of that, he was a royal prince of Soga descent—with multiple connections to Soga no Iname as well as his mother’s own descent from Soga no Umako. One might assume that he would have some loyalties to his extended family.
However, this answer didn’t sit so well with Soga no Emishi, who had his own preference for Prince Tamura. Prince Tamura was not so directly a Soga descendant, but rather more directly descended through what some have referred to as the “Okinaga” line of the royal family. At first glance it might seem odd that he would support someone from outside of his family, but consider this: if Prince Yamashiro were to take the throne, then he becomes the most powerful “Soga” descendant. Those with ties to the Soga could easily support him over Soga no Emishi, especially with the addition of royal blood. Often we see that when it comes to “family” loyalty, the divisions within a family can often be more brutal than external feuds. This is a theme that will echo through the centuries.
Prince Tamura, on the other hand, was a relative outsider. If Soga no Emishi helped him to the throne, then Prince Tamura’s own power and authority would be thanks to Emishi’s work, and at least somewhat dependent upon him and the rest of the powerful Soga family. Furthermore, he was married to Hotei no Iratsume, another daughter of Soga no Umako and thus Soga no Emishi’s sister. Soga no Emishi may have felt that his connection to his sister and brother-in-law was better than that to Prince Yamashiro.
I’d also note that if Sakahibe no Marise really was Emishi’s uncle, that meant that he was also a rival for the head of the Soga house, since, as we’ve seen, inheritance often went to siblings before it made its way down to the next generation. I mention that only to further demonstrate the complicated familial politics of the time, where traditions of inheritance were not strictly laid out.
Seeing as how there was not a consensus even within the Soga family, Emishi decided he would need to win people to his side if he wanted to do this pick this —and how better to do that than to throw a party? Emishi conspired with Abe no Maro no Omi, and they invited everyone over to the Soga mansion for a feast.
Soga no Emishi wined and dined the who’s who of the Yamato court. They ate and drank their fill and, by all accounts, had a great time, likely putting aside the tensions of everything going on outside. As the party began winding down, Emishi had Abe no Maro broach the subject of succession. And so, Abe no Maro addressed the crowd. He started with what was likely on everyone’s mind: the fact that the sovereign was dead, and there was no clear successor. If they, the ministers of the court, didn’t figure something out soon then they were likely to see civil disturbances. So whom should they agree to succeed her?
He then recounted what people had heard regarding her majesty’s final wishes; although the conversations had been held in the relative seclusion of her own private quarters, to which only a handful of people were typically invited, there were still attendants who had been there, and as such word had leaked out. According to that game of ancient telephone, Kashikiya Hime had called in Prince Tamura and told him that “The Realm is a great charge, and, of course, not to be lightly spoken of. Be watchful and observant, Prince Tamura, and not remiss.” Then, to Prince Yamashiro she said, “Avoid your own brawling speech and make sure to follow what everyone else has to say. Be self-restrained and not contentious.”
And so, Abe no Maro asked, who should we make the new sovereign?
At that point, he was met with an awkward silence. Things had been going great, but Abe no Maro had just committed a party foul and brought up politics. So much for the fun and games.
Finally, Ohotomo no Kujira no Muraji spoke up. “Why don’t we simply obey her majesty’s final commands?” he suggested, “There is no need to go out and seek a general consensus.”
Challenged by Abe no Maro to expound on this, Kujira continued to explain his thoughts. Since Kashikiya Hime had said to Prince Tamura that the realm is a great charge and he should “be not remiss”, wasn’t it clear that she had made up her mind to hand it over to him? Who were they to say otherwise?
At that point, four other ministers spoke up. They were Uneme no Omi no Mareshi, Takamuku no Omi no Uma, Nakatomi no Omi no Mike, and Naniwa no Kishi no Musashi. They all agreed with Ohotomo no Kujira and agreed that they should end discussion, essentially casting their votes for Prince Tamura.
However, not everyone agreed with this. On the other side of the aisle were Kose no Omi no Ohomaro, Saheki no Muraji no Adzumoudo, and Ki no Omi no Shihote, who all threw their support behind Prince Yamashiro.
That’s roughly five ministers vocally for Prince Tamura, not including Abe no Maro and Soga no Emishi, but there were at least three on the other side, as well as Sakahibe no Marise, Emishi’s uncle. There may have been others that are not mentioned.
That left one person who hadn’t spoken up: Soga no Kuramaro no Omi, aka Soga no Womasa, Soga no Emishi’s own brother. He was on the fence about the whole thing, and asked for time to think it over. Given all of this debate, it was clear to Soga no Emishi that there was no unanimous decision—at least nothing with unanimity, or at least approaching it. If so many of the nobles were on the other side, then a decision risked splitting court, and therefore bringing more chaos to the land. Furthermore, a split decision could risk a split in the Soga family itself. And so he retired and sent everyone home from the party.
Of course the court was hardly a place for secrets, and pretty soon Prince Yamashiro got word of the discussions that were taking place. And so he sent a private message to Emishi, by way of the royal Prince Mikuni and Sakurawi no Omi no Wajiko. He basically asked what’s up, and why Emishi would want to put Prince Tamura on the throne instead of him.
This was apparently a bit awkward. Prince Yamashiro was asking Emishi as his uncle—distant though that relationship may have been. Rather than going to Prince Yamashiro to reply in person, Emishi instead gathered a bunch of the ministers who had been at the feast and sent them—including members of both the Pro Tamura and Pro Yamashiro factions. At Emishi’s direction, they went to Yamashiro’s palace at Ikaruga and delivered Emishi’s message. Through them he asked how they should be so rash as to decide the succession all by themselves? All that was done was that her majesty’s dying commands had been conveyed to the ministers. Then the ministers had said, with one voice, that Prince Tamura was that, based on her majesty’s words, was the natural heir to the throne, and were there any objections? This was all the words of the various ministers, not any specific sentiments of Soga no Emishi, who claimed that though he had an opinion he refrained from communicating it until he could talk with Prince Yamashiro face to face.
And here we get an inkling of the way these communiques were happening. Because it wasn’t like the ministers just went up to Prince Yamashiro directly. They went to his mansion, but, much like in the palace, they offered their communications via intermediaries. In this case they told Prince Mikuni and Sakurawi no Omi, who were apparently attending on Prince Yamashiro, and then those two passed the words on to Prince Yamashiro. The implication seems to be that should Soga no Emishi have come himself, I suspect that they would have talked in private. As it was, the words were apparently public, which also means that both sides had to choose their words carefully. It also allowed Emishi to have some amount of deniability.
And so after Prince Yamashiro had heard what his intermediaries reported, he asked them to go back out to ask the ministers just what they knew of the dying wishes of Kashikiya Hime, and they reported what Soga no Emishi had told them, admitting that none of those present had actually been there. Rather, the words had been reported to them by the Princesses and Ladies in Waiting attending to her Majesty—but surely Prince Yamashiro, who had been there himself, knew all of this.
Prince Yamashiro then asked directly if they had heard the actual words, and all of the high ministers there admitted they had no knowledge of the specifics, just what they had heard, second-hand.
Prince Yamashiro then offered *his* version of events, which was slightly different than what Soga no Emishi had suggested. On the day that he was summoned, Prince Yamashiro claimed, he went to the palace and waited at the gate. He was finally summoned in by Nakatomi no Muraji no Mike, who came out from the forbidden—or private—quarters and Prince Yamashiro then proceeded to the Inner Gate. In the courtyard he was met by Kurikama no Uneme no Kurome and led to the Great Hall, where there tens of people in attendance, including Princess Kurimoto and some eight ladies-in-waiting, including Yakuchi no Uneme no Shibime. Prince Tamura was also there, of course—apparently he had already talked with her Majesty.
Kashikiya Hime herself was lying down in bed, and could not see Prince Yamashiro enter, so Princess Kurimoto went to inform her that he had arrived. With that, Kashikiya Hime raised herself up and, according to Yamashiro, gave him the following command:
“We, with our poor abilities, have long borne the burden of the crown. But now our time is drawing to a close, and it seems we cannot escape this disease. You have always been dear to our heart and our affection for you has no equal. The great foundation of the State is not a thing of our reign, alone, but has always demanded diligence. Though your heart is young, be watchful over your words.”
Prince Yamashiro then emphasized that everyone who was there, including Prince Tamura, heard and knew what she said, and expressed how he was full of both awe and grief. He leapt for joy, as he heard her words, which he understood to be her passing on the mantle to him. He did, though, have his concerns. He was young, and inexperienced—“devoid of wisdom” is the wording as Aston translates it. How could he accept a charge to handle issues with the Spirits of the land and of the various ancestral shrines? Those were weighty matters.
He wanted to go and converse with his maternal uncle—Soga no Emishi—and with the ministers, but there was no good chance, and so he had kept quiet, but he did remember, years ago, when he went to visit his sick uncle, and he stayed at the nearby temple of Toyoura, the nunnery built on the site of Kashikiya Hime’s palace. At that time she sent him a message via Yakuchi no Shibime, who said that his uncle, the Oho-omi, was constantly worried for him. After the sovereign’s death, wouldn’t the succession fall to him? And so he should be watchful and take care of himself.
To Prince Yamashiro, the matter seemed clear, but he emphasized that he did not necessarily covet the realm, only declared what he had heard, calling to witness the kami of Heaven and Earth. Therefore, he wanted to make sure that he correctly understood her majesty’s dying words.
And so he praised the ministers for always addressing the sovereign without bias, and asked that they go back to his uncle, Soga no Emishi, and convey what he had told them.
Prince Hase, another son of Prince Umayado by another mother, and half-brother to Prince Yamashiro, separately sent for Nakatomi no Muraji and Kawabe no Omi. He told them how both he and his father—and his brother—came from the Soga family, and that they relied upon it heavily. Therefore he asked that they do not speak lightly of the matter of succession. He then sent for the ministers, including Prince Mikuni and Sakurawi no Omi and emphasized that he wanted to make sure there was an answer from his uncle.
Emishi’s reply, sent via his own intermediaries, was that he had previously said all that he had to say and nothing else. However, how should he presume to choose, himself, between one prince or the other?
And so one can imagine the tension. Soga no Emishi wanted the court to place Prince Tamura on the throne, but clearly Prince Yamashiro thought that Kashikiya Hime meant for him to succeed her. Nobody appears to have fully corroborated either side’s telling of the sovereigns last words—in fact, even in the Nihongi there are several different versions that show up, including a variation at the end of her reign and the variations in the telling of the start of the next. Was Prince Yamashiro remembering or understanding the words correctly? Were others distorting them for political gain?
A few days after the ministers left Ikaruga, Prince Yamashiro sent Sakurawi no Omi once again to Soga no Emishi. He again reiterated that he had only reported what he had heard, and that he did not want to go up against his own uncle. However, Soga no Emishi was feeling ill, and was unable to talk with Sakurawi no Omi, who presumably left the message with his attendants and then left.
The next day, feeling in better spirits, Soga no Emishi sent for Sakurawi no Omi, Prince Yamashiro’s messenger, as well as various ministers to go and carry a message back to Prince Yamashiro. He started by abasing himself, claiming that from the time of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, until now, the end of the reign of Kashikiya Hime, the ministers had all been wise men. However, he questioned his own rank, stating that he mistakenly held rank above everyone else merely because good men were hard to find. But because of this lack of wisdom, he could not settle the question of succession. That was, of course, a grave matter, and not one to be discussed through intermediaries—despite the fact that he was expressly using intermediaries. And so he agreed, despite the fact that he was of more advanced years, to travel up to Ikaruga to speak directly with Prince Yamashiro so that there would be no misunderstanding of her majesty’s words. This was totally the case and not at all because he had any private views.
At the same time, Soga no Emishi sent Abe no Omi and Nakatomi no Muraji to his own paternal uncle, Sakahibe no Omi no Marise, and asked him one more time “Which Prince shall be made sovereign?” Clearly he was hoping Marise would swing to his side and agree to support Prince Tamura, with the hope that he could therefore cut off any dissent.
Marise answered that he had already given his answer in person, and that he had nothing more that he wanted to say. He then went off in a huff, upset that he was even being asked a second time. He clearly saw the question as an attempt by his nephew to get him to change his answer.
Now as all of this was going on, the Soga family was gathering all of their clan to construct the tomb for Soga no Umako—perhaps referring to kofun known today as Ishibutai. Soga no Umako had passed away some time ago, but perhaps had been buried in a temporary mound, and only now was his final tomb being completed. Marise’s job was to tear down the sheds at the tomb, which he apparently did, but then immediately retired to the nearby Soga farm-house—likely meaning a house out by the rice paddies rather than the main Soga compound only a slightly further walk away. Once there, Marise refused to do any more work, protesting the way his nephew was treating him.
This temper tantrum pissed of Soga no Emishi to no end. He sent to Marise two messengers of Kimi and Obito rank—as opposed to the high ministers sent to Prince Yamashiro. A rough translation of the message goes as follows:
“I know your evil speeches, but by reason of our relationship of elder and younger brother, I cannot injure you. If others are wrong and you are right, I shall oppose them and follow you. But if others are right and you are wrong, I will oppose you and follow them. Then, if you should eventually disagree with me, there will be a breach between us and there will be fighting in the land. If that happens, future generations will say that you and I brought the country to ruin. So be careful and do not allow a rebellious spirit to rise up.”
Marise was still having none of it, and to add insult to injury he left to stay at Prince Hase’s palace in Ikaruga, basically shacking up with the pro-Yamashiro faction.
Soga no Emishi just got more upset over this blatant and public display of loyalty to the Yamashiro cause and sent ministers to Prince Yamashiro demanding that they hand over Marise. These messengers made the case that Marise was disobedient to Soga no Emishi, the head of the Soga house, and was hiding in the palace of Prince Hase. Soga no Emishi requested that they hand Marise over so that he could examine why Marise was doing this, though that was likely just a polite reason so that Emishi could lock him up or worse until the succession crisis was concluded.
Prince Yamashiro answered that Marise had always been a favorite of her majesty, and that he had only come to Ikaruga for a short visit, nothing political. How could he hope to stand up against Soga no Emishi? And so he asked that no blame come to him.
At the same time, Prince Yamashiro spoke to Marise and warned him that, however touched Yamashiro might have been to have Marise come to seek them out, and despite the gratitude he owed for Prince Umayado, Marise’s actions threatened the peace of the realm. The way things were headed, if Marise stayed at Ikaruga, then it would have given a pretense for Soga no Emishi and his supporters to storm the palace and take him by force, likely bringing the political dispute over succession to a head that would break out into actual warfare and martial conflict.
Moreover, Prince Yamashiro’s father, Prince Umayado, had always told his children to avoid all evil and practice good of every kind; and that had become Prince Yamashiro’s constant rule. Because of that, although Prince Yamashiro may have had his own private opinions on the matter, he was patient and not angry. He refused to set himself up against his uncle. Therefore he urged Marise to not be afraid to change his answer in support of Prince Tamura; he should yield to the many and not retire from public life. The various high officials present likewise urged Marise to listen to Prince Yamashiro and to do as he suggested.
Marise, finding no support for going up against his uncle, Soga no Emishi, finally gave in. He burst out weeping and went home, where he stayed secluded for more than 10 days. During that time, his one supporter, Prince Hase, suddenly took ill and passed away.
With Prince Hase dead, Soga no Emishi decided to move against Marise. He raised troops and sent them to Marise’s house. Hearing they were coming, and knowing he had nowhere left to turn, Marise and his second son, Aya, sat in chairs outside the gate to their home, waiting for the troops to arrive. When they got there, Mononobe no Ikuhi was made to strangle them, and they were both buried together.
Marise’s eldest son, Ketsu, had tried to escape this fate. He fled to the Worship Hall of nunnery—perhaps Toyoura temple?—where he’d had some assignations with a couple of the nuns. However, one of the nuns was apparently jealous and told the troops where he was. They stormed the nunnery, but Ketsu slipped their grasp and headed to Mt. Unebi. The troops searched the mountain thoroughly, and eventually Ketsu found himself hemmed in on all sides, with nowhere left to turn. Rather than be taken and killed by the troops, he decided to take his own life, stabbing himself in the throat.
When people heard about all of this, they wrote a song. It goes:
UNEBIYAMA / KOTACHI USUKEDO / TANOMIKAMO
KETSU NO WAKUGO NO / KOMORASERIKEMU
Which Aston Translates as:
On Mt. Unebi / Though thin are the trees, / May there not be some trust in them?
The youth Ketsu / Seems to have hidden there.

Following the death of Marise, it seems there were none left that were promoting Prince Yamashiro’s ascension—even he seems to have quit arguing for it. Whether or not Soga no Emishi ever came to talk to him is not recorded. Instead they mention that on the 4th day of the first month of 629, Soga no Emishi and the ministers offered the royal seal to Prince Tamura. Although Prince Tamura initially refused, as appears to have been de rigeur for such things, the ministers persisted. Prince Tamura claimed that it was a weighty matter and that he was wanting in wisdom, and the Ministers responded that he was the favorite of Kashikiya Hime, and that both the spiritual and physical realms would turn their hearts to him. Therefore he should continue the royal line. And so, later that day he took the throne. He is also known as Joumei Tennou.
And so that is the story of the succession crisis that followed the death of Kashikiya Hime, and how Tamura, aka Joumei Tennou, came to the throne. Soga no Emishi would continue to exert considerable authority over the throne, and there would be more changes coming to the government and to the state. At the same time, Prince Yamashiro was still out there, meaning that there was at least one other possible claimant to the throne still out there. We’ll address that in our upcoming episodes.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support.
If you like what we are doing, 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.
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Thank you, also, to Ellen for her 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

Kiyotaka Tanikawa, Mitsuru Sōma (2004). On the Totality of the Eclipse in AD 628 in the Nihongi. Publications of the Astronomical Society of Japan. Vol. 56, Issue 1, 25 February 2004. pp. 215–224. https://doi.org/10.1093/pasj/56.1.215
Piggott, Joan R. (1997). The Emergence of Japanese Kingship. Stanford, Calif : Stanford University Press. ISBN9780804728324
Kiley, C. J. (1973). State and Dynasty in Archaic Yamato. The Journal of Asian Studies, 33(1), 25–49. https://doi.org/10.2307/2052884.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 102: Temples and Tribute

February 1, 2024 Joshua Badgley

Example of a 7th century *shibi*, one of the classic ridgeline ends on the top of Buddhist temples from this period. They are often gilded, and easily seen from a distance. These large shapes, somewhat like feathered tail of a bird, would have been found on the buildings of the 46+ temples being built during this period. Photo by author, taken at the Asuka Historical Museum.

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Not as much for this episode beyond what is in the episode, but check it out (or the transcript, below). We cover an early scandal in the Buddhist priesthood and the creation of new official positions by the Court to oversee the workings of the various temples.

In addition to that, we talk about some of the “tribute” missions sent from across the sea—mainly Silla, but a little about what was going on elsewhere on the continent, as well. As usual, Nimna is the sore point in the Silla-Yamato relationship—at least from Yamato’s perspective.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 102: Temples and Tribute
Iwakane and Kuranoshita stood on the deck of their ship, looking out over the waves and back towards their Yamato home. Travel across the sea was always risky, but it was worth it. Locals at the port on the southern tip of the peninsula were loading all sorts of goods into the hold of their ships, and when the two envoys returned home, they could only imagine how they would be greeted as heroes. It had been a long journey, but they’d made it across the strait and upheld the interests of the Yamato court, and now they had a deal that could bring some measure of peace. Not bad for a treacherous trek across the sea. Next they just had to wait for fair winds and they could start the journey back to the archipelago.
Looking out at the ocean, hoping to see some signs of the winds turning back from whence they came, it was then that they spied them—small dots that seemed to disappear and reappear on the horizon. First just a handful, and then more and more. As they came more into focus, their hearts no doubt sank. It was an armada, fitted for war, and it was headed their way.
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As we finish up the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, I want to deal with several events from about 614 to the year 624. During this decade a lot happened. Last episode we dealt with some of the smaller things, but two major things from this period were the further development of the Buddhist clergy—including bringing the institution under state control—and the reported invasions of Silla. I say “reported”, because only the Japanese sources talk about them, but we’ll talk about just why that might be. Meanwhile, there were plenty of changes happening as the Sui dynasty transitioned into the Tang dynasty, and more.
We’re actually going to start with the changes to the Buddhist clergy. This actually happened some time later than the rest of our narrative, but it makes sense to start here and finish up some of the things happening in Yamato, before expanding our view to the wider world.
As we’ve seen, Buddhism officially arrived in Yamato by 538 according to our earliest record, though possibly it had been around in some form in the immigrant communities before then. By the start of the 7th century, Buddhist temples were being built by some of the noble families of the court, including Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and others. Originally, the Buddha was worshipped much as any other kami, but as nuns and monks were sent abroad to learn more about the religion, and as foreign monks were consulted on how things should be, they began to develop their own sangha, their own community, in the archipelago. Those with interest or who took vows to enter the religion studied the sutras and other texts that had been brought over, and with the building of full-scale, continental style temples there would have been little doubt that this was something new and different.
The tenets of Buddhism were those of non-materialism. Adherents were supposed to work on loosening the bonds that kept them tethered to this mortal plane, including concepts of the self. Monks were expected to be the ultimate examples of these teachings, especially seeing as how they dedicated themselves to learning the Buddhist Law. Above all, Buddhist monks were expected to rise above base emotions such as anger, hatred, and lust.
However, let’s remember that these Buddhsit monks were only human, and it is also unclear how many had joined the monkhood entirely of their own volition. For instance, back in 614, when Soga no Umako fell ill, we are told that a thousand persons entered religion for his sake. Now besides the fact that the number of individuals is likely way off base—at most we see maybe 1400 monks and nuns across all of the temples only nine years later—this was not an uncommon thing to see in records of the time. In Baekje, we similarly see large numbers of people taking orders on the behalf of a monarch or other person of importance. The implication is that by having people enter religion—to take orders as a monk or nun—on your behalf would accrue to that person some measure of good karma. This was seen as particularly important for the elite because they, of course, couldn’t just become monks themselves—after all, if they did, who would be left to rule the country? And so, they would have people do it for them, kind of like a version of “karma offsets”, where you get to continue to enjoy all the benefits of your worldly position by offsetting it with other people’s devotion to religion.
But one has to wonder how many people were just waiting around for some special royal or noble person to need some karma before taking orders. After all, if someone was truly interested in taking orders, no doubt they could find a monastery and ask to join. More likely, these were individuals who were impressed -slash- strongly encouraged to take orders on behalf of someone else. This isn’t to say that there were no true converts, nor that those who took orders in such a way never came to appreciate the Buddha’s teachings. However, it does, perhaps, make it a little more understandable when we learn that in 623 there was a major scandal in the Buddhist sangha when an ordained Buddhist monk apparently took an axe and struck his paternal grandfather.
Murder was, of course, generally frowned upon—unless, of course, you were a member of the aristocracy and able to convict the person of something like rebelling against the court. However, it was especially frowned upon by Buddhist monks, as it really didn’t go well with the whole vibe that the Buddhist religion was trying to establish in the archipelago. Anyone who entered Buddhism was supposed to be devoting themselves to the Three Treasures, not geriatricide.
And we don’t know why this monk did it, either. Maybe he just chanted too many sutras and finally snapped, or maybe his paternal grandfather did something heinous and he thought it was his only solution. Either way, this event sparked a major investigation of the Buddhist religion as a whole. The court assembled all of the various monks and nuns and investigated just what had been going on in those temples, anyway. Where they found wrong-doing, the courts decided to issue punishments.
And apparently they found quite a bit of wrong-doing. It isn’t clear exactly what was going on, but there was enough that the Baekje monk Kanroku, or Gwalleuk in modern Korean, issued a memorial to the throne before the punishments were carried out. In his memorial he detailed the history of Buddhism: how it came from the West to the Han, and then 300 years after that to Baekje, and then how it had been transmitted to Yamato only 100 years after that—less than a century ago, really. He noted how young Buddhism was in Yamato, and how the monks and nuns hadn’t fully learned the Teachings of the Buddha. As such, he begged for leniency for all of the monks other than the man who had killed his own grandfather—that was a punishment even Kanroku could not argue against.
By the way, if the name Kanroku is familiar, we talked about him back in episode 94. He was said to have been one of the teachers of Shotoku Taishi, and when he first arrived in Yamato we are told that he brought numerous books on various sciences with him, helping to kickstart a number of studies in Yamato. He was clearly well respected by the court.
And so the court heard this petition, and Kashikiya Hime granted Kanroku’s request for leniency. The monks and nuns were spared, except for the one, but that was not the end of the court’s involvement. Ten days later, they issued another ruling. The court set up two official positions: The Soujou and the Soudzu. These two positions were created to oversee the monks and nuns. Kanroku was made Soujou, or High Priest, and Kurabe no Tokuseki was appointed as Soudzu. We are also told of another position, possibly one that already existed, as a member of the Adzumi no Muraji family was appointed as Houzu, the Head of the Law.
These positions would help tie the practice of Buddhism to the court. The temples were no longer simply autonomous units that could operate on their own. Neither were they solely bound to the wealthy families that patronized them and helped pay for their upkeep. The court positions provided a means of state accountability and oversight concerning the activities of Buddhism in the country. After all, Buddhism, at this time, was largely seen as serving the state and the state elites. While Buddhist doctrine might encourage the salvation of all sentient beings, to many of those sponsoring and setting up these temples, it was still a very transactional relationship. The power of Buddhism was not simply in the siren’s call of possibly throwing off the shackles of the material world, but also in the belief that Buddhist gods and Boddhisatvas could actively provide protection—both tangible and intangible—to the state and to the members of the court. It is unlikely that farmers, living in their pit houses and working in the rice paddies, were thinking so much about going to the temple and what the Buddhist Law meant for them. The nature of religion at the time was still one where the elites controlled the mysteries, and thus used that to justify their rarified positions.
The idea of the position of High Priest may have been transmitted from the Buddhist traditions of the Yangzi river region and the southern courts. Originally, in Yamato, it seems to have been intended as the chief priest of the country, as there was only one official sect of Buddhism. This would change in later years as the position—and the Buddhist temples’ relationship with the government—changed over time.
Kanroku’s time in this position seems to have been limited. Less than a year later, in the first month of 624, a new priest arrived from Goguryeo, named Ekan, or Hyegwan in modern Korean, and he was made Sojo, or high priest. Does this mean that Kanroku retired from the position? Or perhaps he passed away. Unfortunately, we aren’t quite sure.
Tradition holds that both Kanroku and his successor, Ekan, both were installed at Houkouji, aka Gangouji or Asukadera, the temple of Soga no Umako, demonstrating the power and influence that Soga no Umako’s temple had at the time. Ekan is also said to have been the founding patriarch of the Japanese Sanron school of Buddhism. The Sanron sect comes from the Sanlun school of the mainland, also known as East Asian Madhyamaka, and was based on three texts—the “Sanron”—said to have been translated by Kumarajiva in the 4th and early 5th centuries.
That both of these High Priests were installed at Houkouji definitely says something at the time. It is possible that their dominion was simply over Houkouji, but an earlier entry suggests that was not the case, as in the ninth month of 623, some five months after the whole axe-monk incident, the Court ordered an inspection of temples of monks and nuns. We are told that they made an accurate record of the circumstances of the building of the temples, and also the circumstances under which the various ordained individuals had embraced—forcefully or otherwise—the Buddhist religion. They recorded information down to the year, month, and day that they took orders. Based on that record we are told that there were forty-six temples in 623, and 815 monks and 569 nuns, for a total of one thousand three hundred and eighty five persons altogether. That doesn’t count the individuals working the rice land and otherwise helping provide for the upkeep of the temples themselves.
As far as I’m aware, we don’t have this actual record of the temple inspection, other than its summary here in the Nihon Shoki, but assuming it is true, it tells us some rather incredible things. First, if we assume that Asukadera and Shitennouji were really the first two permanent temples to be built in Yamato, then all of this- the building of 46 temples, and the ordination of so many people- happened in the span of about thirty years. That’s an average of three temples being built every two years, and it probably wasn’t that steady a pace. It is entirely possible, of course, that many of the temples mentioned were still under construction. After all, we saw how long it took to build Houkouji temple, or Asukadera, which we discussed back in episode 97. Regardless, it goes back to what we mentioned about the temple building boom that took off, which also removed much of the labor force that would have otherwise been put to work building things like massive kofun.
Also, assuming an even distribution, we are looking at an average of thirty monks or nuns per temple. It was likely not quite so even, and with temples like Asukadera, or even Toyouradera, having many more monks and nuns given their importance. Furthermore, when Soga no Umako grew ill and supposedly had a thousand persons enter religion—which, as we’ve mentioned, likely wasn’t quite that many—I suspect that many of those would have gone to Soga temples, such as Houkouji.
By the way, on that one thousand people: I would note that it is possible that some people only entered Buddhist orders temporarily, for a time, and that is why the numbers aren’t larger. Still, I think that Occam’s razor suggests the simpler answer is that the numbers were simply exaggerated for effect by the Chroniclers, assuming that it even happened in the first place.
So that was the story of Yamato expanding its state administration over the spiritual realm. However, there was plenty of expansion they were doing in the physical realm as well. They had expanded control to the island of Tsukushi, modern Kyushu, and were even dealing with the inhabitants of Yakushima, but they knew there was a much larger world out there.
And so we see that in 613, two new ambassadors were sent to the Sui court. They were Inugami no Kimi no Mitasuki and Yatabe no Miyatsuko. We don’t know much about the embassy that went though we know that they came back through Baekje the following year, bringing a Baekje envoy with them, because why not? Baekje records talk about the Wa—that is the people of the Japanese archipelago—traversing their country on their way to the Sui court at various times, so this is all within the realm of what has been pretty standard, so far.
The following year, we see that Silla sent a Buddha image to the Yamato court. As per usual, our ever so faithful Chroniclers note that this is an item of “tribute” from Silla, as though they were some kind of vassal state of Yamato. Which brings me to a point I’ve made before and I’ll probably make again: All history is political. The writing of history is an inherently political act, in that it attempts to capture some form of truth as the authors of history believe it to be. What they choose to include—and what they choose to ignore—is all a choice.
This should not be confused with facts: what actually happened and was observed. But even the facts of the past are all experienced through human senses and interpreted by human brains. We can often only see them through what others have written or created, and what physical evidence remains, today, whether that is archaeological evidence, or even things like DNA or linguistic clues, passed down through the generations.
Keep this in mind the next time you hear someone talk about “historical revisionism”. The stories we tell ourselves change as we better understand the world and the past from which we came. To get upset about people providing a new vision of that past assumes that our previous understanding was somehow complete. We might not agree with someone’s take on it, but as long as we can agree on the facts, it isn’t as if they are changing what actually happened, just providing a different understanding. This of course gets much more difficult and convoluted when we realize that what we think of as facts might instead be suppositions, inferred from how we believe the world works.
I mention this because looking across our various records we can see just how incomplete our understanding is of this time in Silla-Yamato relations. We have to “pick sides” as it were, if we want to tell a story, or we could just throw our hands up in the air and say “who knows?”So let’s talk about just what is missing from both the Nihon Shoki and the Samguk Sagi, two of our better historical sources from this time. Clearly the Nihon Shoki has a pro-Yamato and pro-royal lineage bias, such that it is going to elevate the status of Yamato and the sovereign, almost completely ignoring any other powerful polities that may have once existed in the archipelago and placing Yamato on equal footing with the Sui dynasty, and above the countries of Silla and their ally, Baekje. It is not exactly nuanced in its depiction.
On the other side we have the Samguk Sagi. Here we have a huge period in the 6th and 7th centuries with little to no mention of Wa or the Japanese archipelago. This is especially true in the Silla annals, which only mention their interactions with Baekje, for the most part, and leave talk of Wa to the earlier years, before Silla grew into one of the three most powerful kingdoms on the peninsula. Where we do find mention is in the Baekje annals, but even that is often sparse.
This is likely for several reasons. First off is the fact that the Samguk Sagi was written in the 12th century, over four hundred years after the Nihon Shoki was published. This was the Goryeo period on the Korean peninsula, and so one might expect to see a greater focus on the former Goryeo, known to us as Goguryeo. However, its author was Kim Busik, and the Kim family traced their roots to the royal lineage of Silla. So he likely was plenty incentivized to prop up the Silla kingdom.
Furthermore, it seems that the Samguk Sagi was pulled together from a variety of sources, often with second or thirdhand accounts. For instance, they writers appear to have used Sui and Tang records to reconstruct what happened at various periods, especially in Baekje. The “Record of Baekje” that the Nihon Shoki often cites appears to have no longer been extant for Kim Busik to peruse. And so it is hard to tell what was left out for political reasons and what simply wasn’t mentioned at all.
However, there is a note in the late 7th century, where the Silla kingdom complains about the constant raids and invasions by the Wa—raids and invasions that are otherwise not mentioned—that makes me think that perhaps there is something more to the records of Yamato and Baekje then might first appear. It would be easy, perhaps, to dismiss what we see in the Nihon Shoki, but we are now only a century from when it was compiled. So while the Chroniclers may have been biased in the way they recorded things, there is likely something there, even if they give themselves a larger role in the production.
Alright, so enough caveats: What does the Nihon Shoki have to say about all of this?
We previously talked about the relationship between Yamato and the continent in Episodes 94 and 96, including prior attempts by Yamato to re-establish Nimna, which had been controlled by Silla since at least the 6th century, and Yamato’s early contact with the Sui court. And as mentioned above Inugami no Mitasuki and Yatabe were sent back from the Sui, returning with an envoy from Baekje in 615. Then, in 616, a year after that, Silla sent a Buddha image as tribute. In typical pro-Buddhist fashion, it is said that the image sent out rays of light and worked miracles. Aston claims this was the gold image eventually installed at Houkouji—aka Asukadera.
There is a bit of a respite in the record, like a show that took a season off during the pandemic. We don’t really have much mention of Silla or Baekje for about four to five years, just as it looked like we were starting to get regular communication. That isn’t to say the record is entirely blank, we just don’t have records of regular contact with Silla and Baekje. There is one record, which Aston dates to 618, though that may be a year off based on other sources, where a Goguryeo envoy arrives with gifts: flutes, cross-bows, and even catapults, we are told, 10 in all. They also brought a camel, which must have been quite the sight, though I wonder how well it was doing after that voyage. Finally, they brought some local products and two captives that had been taken during fighting with the Sui.
This mention of Goguryeo fighting the Sui dynasty is rather significant, and it is part of the reason that many believe the Sui dynasty would fall in or around that same year. Besides spending money on all sorts of public works projects—things like the Grand Canal, that would definitely be a wonder, but was also insanely expensive—the Sui dynasty was also fighting campaigns on their northern and southern borders, as well as facing raids by the Tujue, a group of eastern Turkic people. The Sui had been pushing against Goguryeo, with whom they shared a border, and for the most part, Goguryeo had been pushing back. At the same time, Goguryeo had some ambitious neighbors of their own on the peninsula—their sometime ally Silla being chief among them—so they had to also ensure that they weren’t attacked from the rear as they were marshaling troops against the Sui.
Fortunately for them, the Sui dynasty would eventually collapse, being replaced by the Tang. Unfortunately, the Tang dynasty was not necessarily going to give up the push that the Sui had started.
We’ll probably need to do an entire episode on the Tang dynasty and Tang culture, as it would have a huge impact on all of East Asian culture, but for now, that can wait. The death of the last Sui emperor set up a power struggle on the continent. Li Yuan, Duke of Tang, took advantage of this and had himself proclaimed as the new Tang emperor, but he wasn’t the only one contending for power. Though he ruled from the capital at Chang’an, modern Xi’an, there were plenty of others trying to set themselves up as warlords and emperors in their own right, and Li Yuan would spend the entirety of his reign trying to quell these various threats and re-unify the empire under his rule. Needless to say, there was a lot going on over there.
As that was happening, around 621, Silla sent an ambassador to Yamato named, at least in Aston’s translation, Imime, with the rank of “Nama”—a rank in the lower half of the Silla system. Imime brought a diplomatic gift—that is to say “tribute” in the words of the Nihon Shoki—and a memorial for the Yamato court. Apparently they hadn’t brought memorials before, and this was the first time. Memorials here are formal letters, typically referring to the type of letter from a subordinate to a superior. I doubt that Silla was actually making themselves out to be a vassal to Yamato any more than Baekje, who is recorded as submitting numerous memorials, did the same. However, the way diplomacy works, it would be understandable if the letter to a foreign ruler was presented in a flattering light. Also, let’s not forget that it was entirely possible that there was a bit of interpretation going on from one language, into the diplomatic language of Sinitic characters, and then into the native language of the court.
So I think we can say that this is when Silla and Yamato started formal, written diplomatic correspondence.
These exchanges continued the following year. Silla sent more envoys, and this time they brought a golden Buddha image, a golden pagoda, relics, and a large Buddhist baptismal flag, along with twelve smaller ones. This was the Buddha image placed in the Hata temple at Kadono—which is to say, Hachiwoka Temple, known today as Kouryuuji, in modern Kyouto. Other relics went to Shitennouji. In addition, they brought the monks Esai and Ekou, as well as the physicians Ejitsu and Fukuin, bringing continental or “Tang” learning. AT the same time, the envoys suggested that Yamato should send for the students that they had sent abroad to the Sui court, previously, as they had finished their studies. They then launched into praise for the Tang court.
And here we can say it would have likely been the Tang court. As we discussed, the Sui dynasty had collapsed and a new dynasty, the Tang, had stood up in its place. One wonders, then, about the students who had lived through those tumultuous times, and there may have been other reasons to reach out to the Tang court and restart their relationship. It is also interesting that Silla appears to have close ties to the Tang—something that they would certainly work to strengthen in later years. Silla’s location on the other side of Goguryeo made them an ideal strategic ally to help put pressure on Goguryeo and force them to protect multiple fronts at the same time.
Besides the advice on bringing back students from the Sui—now Tang—court, I’d also like to take a moment and point out the gifts and the temples that were mentioned. Shitennouji and Kouryuuji are both temples associated with Shotoku Taishi, but are also thought to have been closely related to individuals of Silla ethnicity in Yamato. That they received the tribute coming from Silla is interesting.
It looks like things were going well, but then, later in that same year, things took a turn. We are told that Silla invaded Nimna, making Nimna fully a dependency of Silla.
As we had discussed, before, Silla had long since taken Nimna and the other small polities around it. It may be that they had retained some notional independence, as many of the kingdoms of this time were not necessarily fully established as we might think of a state, today. However, any “invasion” was likely seen by Silla as simply quelling an internal dispute, assuming it happened at all. What actually happened wasn’t as important to us, however, as was Yamato’s response.
We are told that Kashikiya Hime considered an invasion, but Tanaka no Omi suggested caution, suggesting that someone be sent to the peninsula to figure out just what was going on. Nakatomi no Muraji no Kuni, on the other hand, pressed for war. He continued to beat that old drum claiming that Nimna originally belonged to Yamato, and that Silla shouldn’t be allowed to have it. Tanaka no Omi countered that it was better that Silla have it than Baekje, claiming that Baekje, Yamato’s on-again off-again ally on the peninsula, could not be trusted to hold it—something of a strange stance.
Ultimately, Kashikiya Hime listened to Tanaka no Omi’s advice, and she sent Kishi no Iwakane to Silla and Kishi no Kuranoshita to Nimna to see how things were going. When they arrived at the peninsula, they were greeted by a single, brightly decorated ship. When they asked whose ship it was, they were told it belonged to Silla, at which point they called into question why there wasn’t a ship from Nimna. And so the Silla sailors sent someone to bring out another ship, claiming that was the ship from Nimna. The Nihon Shoki claims that this tradition of Silla greeting Yamato envoys with two boats dates from this time.
To say I’m a bit skeptical is an understatement. It sounds like Silla was just trying to appease the Yamato envoys so that they would deliver their message and go back home. Perhaps they were putting on a show of Nimna’s independence—who knows. The Lord of Silla—an interesting flex by the Chroniclers, who have otherwise referred to the ruler of Silla as a “king”—sent eight high ministers, or Daibu, to provide Iwakane and Kuranoshita an update on the status of Nimna. In response, the Yamato envoys apparently insisted that Nimna belonged to them and, at least according to the Nihon Shoki, Silla agreed. Here I think we have to take the Chronicles with a bit of salt, and I really wish that we had better records for Silla, but unfortunately the sources we have from that side are silent about any interaction.
Iwakane and Kuranoshita then began to plan the return trip with envoys from Silla along with more diplomatic gifts from Silla and Nimna. With their work completed, they began the trek back to the islands. Even if Silla was simply putting on a show for the ambassadors, they must have felt pretty good about themselves. They had apparently settled the matter and were now on their way back to seal the deal. All they had to do now was wait for a favorable wind so they could cross.
And so they were probably taken aback when they looked out across the waters and saw boatloads of Yamato troops heading their way. The Silla envoys saw this and immediately noped back to the capital at Gyeongju and left a lower level flunky to handle the diplomatic gifts, which Yamato probably already had loaded on board the ship. Iwakane and Kuranoshita resigned themselves to the fact that the agreement they had brokered was now in tatters—they had just talked about peace and suddenly an invading army shows up. So they shoved off and headed back to the archipelago.
Apparently, while Iwakane and Kuranoshita were away, the hawkish faction of the Yamato Court had swayed Soga no Umako to their side, and he had pushed for the invasion. Specifically, the Chronicles blamed the houses of Sakahibe no Omi and Adzumi no Muraji. Apparently these two families remembered getting quite a pay out from Silla last time, when they took armies across the strait to help re-establish Nimna, but got basically paid to leave, and so they were hoping to do the same thing again.
And so Sakahibe no Omi no Womaro and Nakatomi no Muraji no Kuni were made generals of a force that included a host of names of some of the prominent families as assistant generals. Given all of the generals and assistant generals, it must have been a sizeable force, and the Chronicles say that it was ten thousand strong, though I don’t know that we can trust any of the numbers, exactly.
They made landfall and headed to Nimna, to prepare their attack and when the King of Silla heard they were there, Silla tendered their submission, and the generals sent back a memorial to Kashikiya Hime to proclaim their victory. We aren’t told whether or not Sakahibe no Omi or Adzumi no Muraji made any money on this venture, but they seem to have made out alright for themselves.
Now, as I mentioned earlier, there isn’t any really good corroborating evidence for all of this. There is a note in 623 that Baekje sent an army to raid Silla’s Neungno District, and there is the later 7th century note where Silla complains about the constant raids by the Wa, mostly referring to Yamato and the archipelago.
There is one other thing about this period, however: many scholars believe that this is the period where many of the stories of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime really became popular, and took the form that we mostly know them as, today. As you may recall, Okinaga no Tarashi Hime is more commonly known as Jinguu Kougou or even Jinguu Tennou. She was the wife to the sovereign known as Chuai Tennou and the mother to Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, someone who features prominently in the lineage of the current dynasty of Yamato sovereigns.
We talked about Tarashi Hime and her much hyped “conquest” of the Korean peninsula back in Episode 40. Many scholars treat Tarashi Hime as a fictional, legendary figure, possibly created specifically to mirror the reign of Kashikiya Hime, in the 7th century. There are some who believe her story is actually based on raids and invasions by Yamato in the 7th century, especially given the scale and apparent control that she displays over the archipelago. It is possible that in her day, assuming she did exist, that there was a much larger concern with subduing the Kumaso, which was probably more of an ethnic conflict between different cultures, with Wa forces eventually prevailing. There was certainly commerce with the peninsula, so raids weren’t out of the question. But the scale of those raids may not have been quite as depicted.
Again, though, it is hard to say. The peninsular records are largely silent. The Wa are depicted as almost more of a minor nuisance and they are more likely to give pride of place to Baekje forces in any allied assault, so it is really difficult to determine just what happened, when. Regardless, we aren’t finished with the peninsula. There is still a lot more conflict yet to be seen.
But, we are finished with this episode—and almost finished with this reign. Next episode we’ll cover the end of Kashikiya Hime’s reign, when some of the cutthroat politics of the Yamato court will come to the fore. The end of one reign and the beginning of another has always been a bumpy ride—has the enforcement of more continental style governance changed that at all? We’ll see.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support.
If you like what we are doing, 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.
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Thank you, also, to Ellen for her 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

Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

New Year's Recap 2024

January 1, 2024 Joshua Badgley

Sunset over the hills west of Asuka. Photo by author.

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Happy New Year!

Welcome to our 2024 recap. This episode we look back at what we went over the past year and try to cover some broad themes. We talk about the uji-kabane system, and how the families that were created to help the government work were now starting to get a bit big for their britches, leading to the rise of families like the Soga and the Mononobe. We note that the royal succession is still something of a mess, and even things we think are rules may not actually be rules.

There’s also the coming of Buddhism, destruction of Nimna, and the rise of the Sui dynasty. In the end, we have set the stage for a new Yamato, one that sees itself in a new light.

And with that, I hope the new light for this new year is bright and wonderful for everyone. Akemashite omedetou gozaimasu!

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 2024
Every year I try to take a moment and look back at the material we covered. In part, this is to remind us of the journey we’ve been on, but it is also to help look at some of the larger themes that we might otherwise miss when we are looking at more discreet topics. This year we have not necessarily progressed through as much of the archipelago’s history as in previous years—we started in the early 530s and have probably covered about 80 or 90 years, in contrast to 2022 and before where we covered multiple centuries in a year. But there’s a good reason for that: it has been an eventful period, or at least more of the events are getting written down. However, there is a lot of important stuff going on. We are seeing, more than anywhere else, the rise of powerful families, not just individuals, a process that began as a way to expand the power of the state, but which then took on a life of its own under what is known as the uji-kabane system—the system of families and family rank. This is happening alongside of a reimagining of the state and of the royal family in particular. Many of the 8th century cultural norms are starting to be set in this period. In many ways, the people of Yamato are revising their cultural imaginary of themselves, often in reference to new ideas, concepts, and philosophies being imported from the continent. This includes the arrival of Buddhism and its shake up of the way that the people of the archipelago viewed the world and their place in it.
And so we’re going to start with a recap of the various sovereigns, then go into some of the more particular aspects of what was going on, and try to cover some of those more overarching themes. Hopefully this gives us a good base to move on into 2024.
Now over the past year we’ve gone through seven sovereigns. First was the short reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou, around 531 to 536, back in episode 79, when we talked about the glass bowl attributed to his tomb. He was followed by his brother Takewo Hirokunioshi Tate, or Senka Tennou, who reigned until his death in 539. That was Episode 80, where we also kind of kicked off the Asuka period, which many see as starting around 538.
Next, in Episodes 81 through 86, was their half-brother, Amekunioshi Hiraki Hironiwa, or Kinmei Tennou, who ruled until about 571. Amekunioshi was followed by his son, Nunakura Futodamashiki, known as Bidatsu Tennou, who ruled until 585—Episodes 88 and 89. Bidatsu was followed, in episode 90, by our fifth sovereign in this year’s line up, Tachibana no Toyohi, or Youmei Tennou, father of Prince Umayado, aka the famous Shotoku Taishi, who we talked quite a bit about for his legendary and historical importance. Youmei Tennou passed away in 587, and after some conflict, Hasebe no Wakasasaki came to the throne, remembered as Sushun Tennou. He was assasinated in 592, as we covered in Episode 92, and succeeded by Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, daughter of Amekunioshi, wife to Nunakura Futodamashiki, and known to most as Suiko Tennou. That’s where we are at present.
We also have seen a succession of high officials. We started off with Ohotomo no Kanamura and Mononobe no Arakahi as the two Ohomuraji, but we quickly saw the addition of Soga no Iname as Oho-omi. This foreshadowed the fading of the Ohotomo family appear to have lost their status with their failures in peninsular dealings, while the Mononobe and Soga continued to help lead the country. Mononobe no Arakahi was succeeded in the position of Ohomuraji by Mononobe no Okoshi, and then Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya. Soga no Iname was succeeded to the position of Oho-omi by his son, Soga no Umako.
Taken together with Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, these are perhaps some of the main names in the Chronicles. Let’s recap what was most important about each of them.
We started this year talking about the reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou. The official account says that he was the son of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tenno, and one of two of Wohodo’s sons that were basically just keeping the seat warm for their half-brother, Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou. In other words, they were kind of regents.
This story quickly falls apart, however, when you look at several factors. First, based on some of the dates given for his birth, Amekunioshi would have been around 22 years old when their father, Wohodo, passed away—young, but old enough to take the throne without requiring any kind of regent. In addition, neither of his two brothers gave up the throne to him when he finally came of age—whatever age that might have been. Instead, each one died in the position. That doesn’t exactly scream that they were giving up power.
Why this discrepancy? The best explanation is that the Chroniclers were trying to keep things nice and tidy, and
we are told that the tradition was for sovereigns to only come from lineages where both the male and female lines were considered royal—one sovereign and one royal princess, typically, who would be raised up as the Queen, and whose offspring would be eligible for the throne. However, that was slightly disrupted by Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, who seems to have taken the throne despite the fact that his two half-brothers and their offspring may have had the stronger claim. Still, he was able to point to his mother’s royal status. In fact, she was even of the previous dynasty, sister to the last sovereign from that line, Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou. Or so we are told by the Chroniclers.
. And so only Amekunioshi’s mother is considered to be the truly legitimate queen, while Magari no Ohine and the other so-called “regent” brother - Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou - must have been from a consort other than the Wohodo’s main wife. Their mother, Menoko, was instead linked to a prominent family, that of the Owari no Muraji, but it is unclear if they had the royal connections on her side—though I have little doubt that they could have been invented if they didn’t already exist.
I would point out that even given this explanation, both of the brothers were given the posthumous honors of “Tenno”, rather than being referred to as a regent, whereas the sovereign Okinaga no Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Kougou, also ostensibly a regent, was never granted that honor, at least by the Chroniclers. We discussed this a bit in Episodes 41 and 42, and how that may have been due to the Chroniclers’ misogynistic tendencies as much as anything. There is a suggestion that in reality, these two brothers may have been rival claimants, and there may have even been competing courts, as different family members rallied support to their side.And all of that perfectly helps illustrate just how we think things might have looked around this time. Succession to the royal throne hardly appears to have been cut and dry. Even before this period, we saw times where there were multiple claimants , regents, etc. There is no clear pattern by which we can deduce who would succeed any given sovereign: it might be a brother, or any of their sons, or even a daughter. And without a clear system of succession, every time the sovereign passed away, there was a competition for the throne.

You might recall that the mutual father of these three sovereigns, Wohodo, was himself said to have been the first in a new dynasty-- the previous dynasty died out with Wohodo’s predecessor, Wohatsuse no Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou. There are a lot of questions around this transition, but even the Chroniclers couldn’t immediately connect Wohodo to the previous lineage without having to go all the way back to Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, on his father’s side, and to Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, on his mother’s side, but there are still plenty of questions about those ties and how real they were.

When it comes to the complications of succession, one thing to factor in is that this was still in the time when every sovereign moved into a new palace. There are various thoughts on why this was —one of them being that the move prevented spiritual pollution associated with a dead body. I also wonder if it wasn’t practical as the new sovereign may have already had their own base of power, or perhaps by building new it was a way to ensure that the buildings were always fresh and free of any problems, as I believe these early buildings were largely built of fresh, untreated wood. Whatever the reason, moving to a new palace each time also means that there wasn’t an actual, physical throne to fight over. Rival sovereigns could set themselves up in different areas in and around the Nara basin, Kawachi, et cetera, and gather supporters to their court.
Those supporters, no doubt individuals with some power and clout in their region who saw benefit in allying themselves with an even bigger name, would eventually become the heads of various corporate families, further extending their power and influence. There is plenty of reason to believe that the family systems we see on the archipelago were not necessarily indigenous creations. Early on people were associated with a place, perhaps, and of course you would know your line of descent, possibly even going back into myth and legend. The concept of “family” as simply a matter of descent and relationship no doubt existed—after all, everyone has a mother and a father. However, the idea of families with wide ranging control over a particular industry, administrative function, or even court ritual were likely imported from the continent as a way to group people together. In fact, these are often referred to more as “clans”—groups of individuals who claimed shared descent, whether real or imagined, often from some legendary figure. The new concept of these families not only grouped people based on things like their occupation or common ethnicity, if they came from the peninsula, but it also added a layer of administration that was then tied into the concept of the Yamato court, making it an extension of the government. In turn, the government classified these families through a system of rank and titles—the kabane.
This system had people being known as much or even more by their family name as they were by the common name they went by as individuals. Originally we see individuals working in similar professions organized into groups that used the term “-Be” in the name, but later we get the “uji”, or familial clans, that were more like administrators and extensions of the court. Of note, there would continue to be many people who were not formally part of a particular -Be or Uji or even Ie, or “house”. These were mostly individuals of the common agricultural class or similar, and long lineages might have no actual family name until the Meiji period, when everyone was expected to take on a family name as part of the efforts to modernize the country. Until then, having a family name meant that you actually were already a part of the upper crust of society, even if you were only on the bottommost rung of that particular social ladder.
In addition, a family name allowed someone to take on the family kabane, or title. While there were some titles that appear to be given to the individual, these kabane titles, such as Suguri, Kishi, Atahe, Kimi, Muraji, and Omi, designated entire families. These terms themselves appear to come from earlier job positions, indicating different types of leadership, from a local headmaster up to rulers of countries, and high ministers of the court. For example, the title of “Omi” was originally a job description, indicating one of the many functionaries that made the court run, but as a kabane, any member of a given family would be able to use the term, whether they were actually in a ministerial position or not.
At this point, these important families were essentially an extension of the state—a way to decentralize control so that the Yamato state could function at an expanded level. Some families appear to have been set up around local administration, including making local chieftains and the like part of their own family unit that was then granted control of the area by the court. During the period we’ve covered this past year, we see that approach of absorbing regional families mature and grow, and those families taking on greater roles: initially with stories of the Ohotomo and Mononobe families, culminating in the powerful Soga family.
For the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, the family name likely tells us part of what and who they were. The Ohotomo were the Great Tomo, or the Great Tomo no Miyatsuko. These Tomo no Miyatsuko are some of the earliest court nobles, and it would make sense that the Ohotomo were at their head—which would also explain their position as the Oho-omi in the 5th and early 6th centuries. Next to this family were the Mononobe, the Be (occupational group) of the Warriors, or Mononofu. Together these families represented the early concepts of administration and military might. However, as the families continued to evolve, they became independent from the roles they were originally created to hold. The Ohotomo would eventually fall from power, and in their place would rise up the Mononobe. However, the Mononobe would also find themselves on the outs, especially in the tumultuous period following Amekunioshi’s death.
It was at this time that a new family would rise up to take their place: the Soga, which we’ve heard a lot about this year. The head of the Soga, Soga no Iname, had positioned his family in part through carefully marrying his daughters into the royal line. While this had been done in the past, it wasn’t to the extent or success that the Soga were able to achieve: In only a single generation, Iname saw Soga descended sovereigns on the throne. This took place, of course, with not a small amount of maneuvering and the eradication of rival lineages. It was their own Game of Thrones playing out, with the families created to serve the state and the royal family grabbing for themselves more power. This would seem to be an unexpected consequence of a concept that had initially helped expand the royal authority, and we’ll only continue to see more of it in the coming decades and centuries.
At the same time that all of this was playing out on the archipelago, things on the continent were also changing. First and foremost, in that it was closest to home for Yamato, was the rising power of Silla on the Korean peninsula.
Up to this point, most of the Korean peninsula appears to have been a collection of small, regional polities, with occasional alliances between them. There were two or three kingdoms of note. In the north was Goryeo, a shortened version of the original name, Goguryeo, which is how we generally refer to it today to distinguish it from the 10th century state of the same name. It was the oldest of the various kingdoms, and claimed descent from the northern Buyeo kingdom, centered in modern Manchuria.
In the southwest of the peninsula was the kingdom of Baekje. They, too, claimed descent from the nobility of Buyeo, and they were made up of many of the various polities collectively referred to as Mahan. While Goguryeo was ruling up in the north, Baekje was one of the first kingdoms to set up shop in the southern end of the peninsula.
Then there was Silla. Originally a confederation of six polities in the area known as the Jinhan, they eventually became a kingdom and started pushing against the other polities in the region. This includes the fledgling kingdom of Kara, mostly known as a confederation of smaller polities from the old Byeonhan region. There are royal style tombs in the area, but before they could really get going Kara and the other polities fell under the control of the kingdom of Silla. This included groups like Ara and the controversial polity of Nimna. This set Baekje and Silla in direct confrontation, as Silla’s land grab eliminated much of the buffer territory between the two of them.
Nimna appears to have been of particular concern to Yamato, and appears to have been one of Yamato’s allies, along with Baekje. While Baekje appears to have been the stronger of the two, Nimna may have had a special place for Yamato, especially as it may have been an important port for Yamato ships traveling to trade with the rest of the continent. Nimna being under Silla rule would have made this trade much more risky, as the Silla-Yamato relationship was often a rocky one. Yamato attempted to move Nimna out from under Silla control, both through an alliance with Baekje, in concert with some of the other polities, as well as through attempts to take the country by force—most of which excursions were called off for one reason or another.
At the same time, Baekje had been in decline, generally speaking. They moved their capital farther south after being defeated by Goguryeo. They were rebuilding, and still a powerful force, but not quite at the height of their power.
Farther on the mainland, between the Yellow and Yangzi rivers, the period of the Northern and Southern Courts was coming to a close, and the Sui dynasty would eventually rule much of the Middle Kingdom, what is today modern China. They would bring a stability to the region and embark on public works projects that would forever change the face of East Asia.
As all of this was happening, influences were coming from the west. We mentioned the Sassanian glass bowl and similar wares that made their way from the Middle East all the way to Japan—though whether as part of a sovereign’s burial or not might still be up for debate. Nonetheless, we know that the overland trade routes were booming, even if the occasional instability might disrupt them now and again. The whole of Asia was more connected than we often give it credit for.
Along this road came not only material goods, but new ideas. Greek culture had reached at least as far as Gandhara, modern Pakistan and Afghanistan, and from east of the Indus came a new religion: Buddhism. It spread along the silk road, eventually finding a home in China, where it flourished, and continued to spread to the Korean peninsula and then, in the 6th century, to the archipelago of Japan.
Buddhism came hand in hand with other mainland texts, exploring a variety of science and philosophy. We discussed how the mainstream story of the introduction of Buddhism is likely not entirely correct. That story sets up a conflict between the foreign religion of Buddhism and the worship of local kami—the practices that would become Shinto. So, resistance to Buddhism is initially depicted as a resistance to foreign influence and the need to continue to support indigenous belief. The reality, however, is much more complex.
First is the role of kami worship in the expansion and exercise of State power. The archaeological record demonstrates some expansion of Yamato ritual in the spread of various kofun styles —especially the royal keyhole shaped kofun, which were clearly adopted by others, demonstrating Yamato’s influence. More subtly, we see the spread of Yamato ritualists to various parts of the archipelago, and eventually the spread of various beliefs—though it may be somewhat difficult to say just when belief in any particular kami started at this period. Remember, though, the way that powerful physical icons of the kami, such as mirrors and swords, had been taken by the Yamato sovereign and held by the court. We touched on this back in Episode 20, where we discussed on Yamato took on “guardianship” for various relics, almost like they were taking sacred hostages. Worship of the kami was intertwined with statecraft, and spiritual power and political power were both a part of the mix along with actual military power. If you could perform a ritual that people felt was effectual, that was seen as on par with actual governance. We also see this in the way that various families identified with different kami, such as the Mononobe and their link to the deity of Isonokami shrine, and the Royal family with the deity of Mt. Miwa.
Worship, however, was already starting to take on a continental tinge, as we see in stories about various deities, and the practice of worship. This was no doubt influenced by immigrants from the Korean peninsula, who brought their own stories and beliefs. Furthermore, whenever nothing else seemed to be working, bringing in new and exotic ritual practices from across the sea was likely seen as New and Shiny. It was, after all, the latest in spiritual technology, and that foreign-ness and lack of local understanding would have led not only to its also having a somewhat mysterious quality, but also in the power that comes with being the only ones to quote-unquote “understand” the power of it and how to translate it. If you were a 5th or 6th century ritualist family, if you could get hold of things that seemed to be ancient practices from the continent that nobody else really knew or understood, you were automatically the local subject matter expert.
Furthermore, there wasn’t necessarily a single, unified concept of how the kami worked, either. Kami worship was often localized, and then later would spread as others heard about particularly powerful kami and rituals. But there was no single concept of “Shinto”—there’s no evidence that Izumo, Yamato, and Kibi all had the same origin stories, and, in fact, the many different stories that make up the Age of the Gods in the Chronicles speaks to the idea that there were many different stories, depending on who you asked.
In many ways, this is even true today. While there are general themes that most Shinto shrines and practitioners follow, ritual practices from place to place may vary wildly. This is less so in places that were part of more unified systems, such as the shrines connected to the royal family or those regulated by State Shinto in the Meiji period through World War II, but even today you can find a variety of differing beliefs and rituals in Shinto, even as most things appear to be the same on the outside. A shrine’s teachings may have local meaning or local rituals that are not practiced elsewhere, though many will fall into a recognizable cultural milieu that tends to make them more standardized. As a small, but visible example, different shrines may have different omamori—protection amulets—that they offer. While most offer amulets against sickness, disaster, or for attaining goals, some may have specific amulets for the martial arts, while others may have more specific amulets about love and marriage. These will often be based on those things which the shrine and its kami are most associated with.
In many ways, the Soga clan’s acceptance of and use of Buddhism early on emphasizes this kind of spiritual borrowing, but to an extent that went well beyond what anyone else had done. Most groups or families seem to have borrowed bits and pieces from the continent and then applied them to their local customs, but the Soga appear to have taken on Buddhism wholesale. The benefit was that Buddhism wasn’t just a few new practices—it was an entire corpus of material, with a rich written tradition.
Of course the writing was primarily in Sinic script, which was not exactly accessible to most people. And early attempts at building temples and holding worship demonstrate a clear lack of understanding of Buddhist rites and rituals – indeed they are described much more like what one might expect to see in kami worship, with an emphasis on Buddhist “feasts”. This may have been an attempt to make these new practices more accessible, but I believe that it is more likely that these early attempts at Buddhism were trying to treat the Buddha as another kami, through which the Soga family could control access to rites and rituals and thus gain political power through their perceived spiritual power. It didn’t hurt that, when they finally did build some temples, they were in the continental style, even further illustrating the Soga family’s connection with all of these new fangled ideas coming over from across the sea.
This was likely facilitated by the Soga family’s connections to the immigrant community, particularly to various people from Baekje whom they sponsored and who, in turn, would be able to assist them in various ways. These included people like Shiba Tattou and his family, who were regularly assisting Soga no Iname and Soga no Umako in their endeavors. This may in part explain why early Buddhist images were coming over from Baekje, Yamato’s ally at the time, though that may have been coincidental or even a catalyst—it isn’t entirely clear.
It is also intriguing to me that I have not seen a clear reference to a Soga family shrine. Perhaps the Soga themselves were from the continent, originally—that may explain some of the earlier Soga names that appear to reference the peninsula and even Goguryeo. Then again, it is hard to say—it may be that the Soga family shrine was never of as much import as their eventual attachment to Buddhist institutions.
For those in power who could see how the Soga family was using this new religion, it is little wonder that they pushed back against it. They had no particular reason to see Buddhism as anything particularly special, but they no doubt knew that the Soga would use it as a platform to further enhance their position. And the powers-that-be succeeded several times, it would seem, in resisting Soga attempts to found a new ritual center.
The Soga, however, had already gained considerable power outside of Buddhism. Much of their rise is not entirely catalogued, but by the time of Soga no Iname, things were looking good. The Ohotomo family was on the decline, which likely created something of a power vacuum that Soga no Iname was able to exploit.
By the way, there is a thought that early on the position of “Muraji” was actually superior to that of “Omi”, and it may be that the “Oho-omi” position was not quite as prestigious as that of Ohomuraji. This is obscured by the fact that by the time of the Chronicles, the Oho-omi position clearly eclipsed the position of Ohomuraji, and that is projected back into the distant past by the Chroniclers. This would speak to the idea that the Soga family was actually ranked behind the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, originally, but their Omi family was on the rise, and eventually their position as Oho-omi, the Great Omi, became the most influential position at court.
This may go along with the fact that Soga no Iname is also given the personal kabane of Sukune in the Chronicles, which is described as the highest personal title that could be bestowed on an individual.That also speaks to his personal power and influence at court. Of course, he is described by these terms from early on, even though he likely received them later in his career, and so it can be difficult to track just when he came to the peak of his effectiveness. There is also the possibility that some of it is projected back on him because of his offspring, though even then he was still likely someone of consequence to be able to have those familial connections with the royal family in the first place.
I suspect that much of Iname’s position was likely derived from his access to Baekje and other immigrants and their access to reading, writing, and the new technologies that the court was hungering for. Iname then parlayed that position into strategic marriages with the royal house. Several consorts were from the Soga lineage, daughters of Soga no Iname. Their sons and daughters, while royal princes and princesses, would also be connected to their Soga relatives. This was a not uncommon ploy, as we’ve seen it in many other cases as well.
However, then something happened that would disrupt the apple cart. Remember hwo we talked about how a sovereign was supposed to be be descended from the royal family through both their paternal and maternal lines?
Amekunioshi was succeeded by his son Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou. His mother had been Ishi Hime, son of Amekunioshi’s half-brother, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou. But when he died, his son, Hikobito, was not made sovereign. Instead, the throne passed to his half-brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, a son of Amekunioshi and a daughter of Soga no Iname—so royal blood on only half of the family’s side.
Following him, we see a bloody fight for the throne, largely personified by the military forces of the Mononobe v. those of the Soga. Remember, the Mononobe had started as the Be of the warriors. They were expected to be the armies of the court, at least in Yamato and the archipelago. In previous reigns they had been the ones to mete out punishment and to be given charge of places like the Yamato government’s outpost in Kyushu, from which point armies would be launched against the continent. They did not, however, have a monopoly on military power. Many families participated in raids against the peninsula, so we can assume that there were many who had their own, private forces. While the Mononobe may have been the court’s warriors, they had also branched out into other areas of administration, as well as maintaining the ritual site of Isonokami.
The Soga versus Mononobe fight also saw various royal princes pitted against each other, and many would-be sovereigns were killed. Prince Hikohito, whom one might think as the eldest son of Nunakura was the heir presumptive, was killed, and the Mononobe ended up supporting Prince Anahobe against the Soga’s candidate, Prince Hasebe. However, both of these candidates were descended from daughters of Soga no Iname—nobody was putting up a candidate that truly had royal blood on both sides.
In the end, the Soga were victorious, and they destroyed the Mononobe—though not entirely. The Mononobe were certainly out of power, but they would continue to exist in a more minor role. The Soga candidate, Hasebe, was then placed on the throne as Sushun Tenno, while Soga no Umako enjoyed unparalleled power as Oho-omi.
However, despite his Soga lineage, and the fact that Soga no Umako had helped put him on the throne, Hasebe was not necessarily going to let himself be controlled. And so Soga no Umako resorted, we are told, to assassination, to clear the throne for someone else. And that someone else was none other than Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou.
She is something of an enigma. She is the first woman to be granted the title of “Tennou” by the Chroniclers, and several accounts make her seem like she was a shrewd operator. She had been the second wife of her half-brother, Nunakura Futodamashiki, and she’d been in or near the halls of power since his reign. And yet some believe her to be little more than a puppet for Soga no Umako, while others believe she was a consensus candidate who was largely inoffensive to the majority of the court. This is further complicated by the fact that she didn’t even name her own offspring as Crown Prince, designated to succeed her. Rather, that position went to none other than her nephew, the Prince of the Upper Palace, Kamitsumiya, aka the Prince of the Stable Door, Umayado, more popularly known today as Prince Shotoku Taishi.
Shotoku Taishi is a mytho-historical figure by all accounts. While many believe that an actual prince existed, he is given credit for almost anything good that happened. Although the Soga family was clearly responsible for bringing in Buddhism, it is Shotoku Taishi who is credited with spreading the holy religion. He is also said to have written the first constitution for the state, and set up a court rank system similar to the continent, though still unique to Yamato.
He is said to have ruled jointly with his aunt, and is treated in later stories as a dharma king, even though he never took on the actual mantle of sovereign. Of course, Soga no Umako also exerted a huge influence, and in the end it is hard to say exactly who held the real power amongst the three: Kashikiya Hime, Prince Umayado, or Soga no Umako.
Umayado was the first to pass away, however—which may have also contributed to his holy status as any problems could be passed off as belonging to his aunt or, even better, to his grand-uncle, Soga no Umako, who would follow Umayado in death a few years later, and then, finally, Kashikiya Hime herself would succumb to time. They all passed away within a decade of each other, but Kashikiya Hime would manage to outlast them all.
Through this reign, for all of the fighting and politics, many of the foundations were laid for a reimagining of the Yamato state, the sovereign, and the vehicles of power. The court had spread their control through ritual, through the familial system, and through the establishment of Miyake—government outposts designed to control rice land and send tribute back in the form of tax. However, now they were formalizing that structure and in so doing they were putting a legal framework around it. Built around a continental model, the throne became the source of rank for the individual, not just the family, and that rank could be given out across the archipelago. This set up some of what was needed to start to move towards a more bureaucratic state in the continental model.
Certainly, we see that Yamato power had expanded. Further out from Yamato, we see the round, keyhole shaped tombs becoming popular, while closer to the Nara basin, they actually began to die out. In part this can be seen as a possible sign of Yamato control, since the local elites were no longer being represented as rulers, but in a lesser capacity. However, it then takes a real turn as even the sovereigns—or at least the Soga descended sovereigns—are no longer buried in keyhole shaped tombs, either, and these tombs become smaller. This may be, at least in part, because resources to build tombs were being redirected into the new temple building craze. For whatever reason, Buddhism had caught on, at least amongst the elites. If the Soga family had hoped to control Buddhism, they appear to have failed. Numerous temples started up, tied to different families, most of them connected, in some way, with various immigrant groups in the archipelago. Where this would go, we’ll have to see.
And that largely catches us up. I skipped over a few things, but it is worth recalling the Haruna eruptions that we covered back in episode 87, which reminds us that the Chronicles really only give us a narrow view of everything that was going on. Much of the history of the archipelago remains unrecorded, and is only understood through the archaeological record. While a lot was happening in Yamato, there was plenty going on elsewhere, but we only see it when it touches on Yamato and their politics.
And so we learn a little more about the creation of the Dazaifu, and we hear about natural disasters, such as earthquakes and floods, but only if they affect the Nara basin. There are some hints in the fudoki, the local gazetteers that were compiled in the 8th century to catalog the local stories and histories, but we only have so much, and even then the stories aren’t always easy to place in a truly chronological context. Still, we can see some general themes running throughout this period.
As we start into 2024, we’ll finish up with the reign of Kashikiya Hime. Before her reign ends, we’ll also see the rise of the Tang dynasty on the continent—a new inspiration for Yamato, but also a new threat, especially as they ally with Silla. Also, with Prince Umayado gone, who will next take the reins of power? And what will happen with the Soga family? Will Umako’s children prove as formidable as he was? There is plenty more to look forward to.
Until then, Happy New Year! As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support. Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her continued work at helping to edit these episodes!
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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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吉澤則男 (1992)。羽曳野市教育委員会 1992 『羽曳野市埋蔵文化財調査報告書27：羽曳野市内遺跡調査報告書平成3年度』羽曳野市教育委員会。 https://sitereports.nabunken.go.jp/en/17369
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Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks

July 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

A golden animal head umbrella finial, found on Okinoshima island, and dated to the 6th century. These kinds of things were coming across the straits, and there was clearly a robust trade network, even if every mission wasn’t mentioned in the Chronicles somewhere. Photo by author, at the Munakata Taisha Shinpokan; the museum of their holy treasures, including those found on the islands at the other connected shrines.

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This episode we look at some of the other goings-on during the reign of Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto—especially as regards some of the cross-strait relations with Silla and Baekje, largely revolving around the status of the state of Nimna.

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The current sovereign, son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature.

Nichira

Aka Nila or Illa (日羅), a name made up of the first character from “Nihon” (日本) and the last character of Silla (新羅). Later stories claim he was a holy Buddhist monk, although I don’t know if I’m aware of many monks at this point donning armor to visit royalty or suggesting that countries wipe out boats filled with men, women, and children.

(More as we get a chance to update)

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks
Last episode we covered the continued rise of Buddhism. From the enigmatic Prince Ohowake, and his importation of experts and texts to found a temple in the Naniwa region, to the more well-documented case of Soga no Umako, who continued his father’s efforts to establish a temple at their home in the Asuka area, going so far as to have three women inducted as nuns—the first clergy we know of to have been ordained in the archipelago, even though it may have been less than perfectly orthodox in the manner of ceremony. We also talked about how a coalition of other court nobles, led by the Mononobe family, were undermining the Soga and accused their new-fangled religious ideas of bringing plague to the people—plague that, even though the Soga’s temple was destroyed to prevent it, nonetheless took the life of the sovereign, Nunakura Fotadamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.
And for many, that’s probably the highlight of this reign, which was deeply involved in the spread of Buddhism, as well as providing the roots of the conflict between the old guard of the Mononobe and the newly risen Soga family. However, it isn’t as if that is all that was happening. There were continued international developments, among other things, and these were intertwined with everything else—nothing was happening in a vacuum. For example, the country of Baekje was the source of many of the early Buddhist texts and professionals, with Buddhist gifts becoming a part of the “tributary diplomacy” that is depicted in the Chronicles at this time. Whereas earlier diplomatic gifts may have included bronze mirrors, many embossed with figures such as the Queen Mother of the West, in the 6th century Buddhist icons and imagery seem to hold a similar currency.
I’d also note that giving Buddhist images and texts as gifts or tribute held an added layer of meaning, at least from a Buddhist interpretation. After all, not only were you providing prestige goods, which then helped boost the status of one’s diplomatic partners, but it also earned merit for the person gifting such things, as they were then able to make the claim that they were helping to spread the teachings of the Buddha. This provided an appeal to such gifts on multiple levels, both within and without the growing Buddhist world.
At the same time that Baekje and Yamato continued to advance their ties, Silla continued to grow. Since absorbing the states of Kara, or Gaya, including the Yamato-allied state of Nimna, Silla had grown and was consolidating its power. Silla itself had started out as a coalition of six city-state-like polities that came together in a union. They were one of the main targets of early Yamato aggressions on the Korean peninsula, with numerous discussions of raids by “Wa” sailors, though little is typically seen of the reverse. The Chronicles make the claim that early Silla was a subordinate tributary state of Yamato, which modern historians regard as little more than fiction—likely part of the propaganda campaign of the Yamato court attempting to place themselves in the superior position. Still, it does seem reasonable that prior to the 6th century Silla had remained a relatively minor state, occasionally allying with—or against—the states of Baekje and Goguryeo, as well as the other independent polities that were once present but have largely been obscured by the uncertain mists of the past. The fact that they survived as long as they did, and thus had so much written material, speaks to why they loom so much larger in the early histories, but such things are always hard to judge when all of your material basically comes from the quote-unquote “winners”, historically speaking. Just think how, if Kibi or Tsukushi, or even Izumo had become the dominant polity in Japan, our Chronicles would focus much more on what happened there rather than just covering what was happening in the Nara basin and adjacent Kawachi plain all the time.
And then there is the state of Goryeo, known to us today as Goguryeo, or Old Goreyo—in many ways the granddame of the Three Kingdoms of ancient Korea, with the greatest claim to the territory of ancient Gojoseon and Buyeo culture. Back in Episode 86 we saw a few of their attempts at diplomatic relations with Yamato landing along the Japan Sea side of Honshu—possibly a side effect of the path they were taking, sailing down along the eastern coast of the Korean peninsula, rather than via the Bohai Sea in the west. This may also have been indicative of the relatively friendly relations between Goguryeo and the expanding state of Silla.
Silla also offered up a normalization of relations, though it was met with mixed results—and even those mixed results are, well, mixed in terms of just what was really happening versus what was being projected back by Chroniclers writing a century or two later. Back in the previous reign, that of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, Silla envoys had also been received some time after their conquest of Nimna, and the Chronicles, at least, indicate that Yamato was less than enthusiastic to receive them, indicating that tensions remained high, and Ame Kunioshi took every opportunity to admonish Silla and to request that Nimna be reestablished as an independent entity, or so we are told.
Similarly, in the 11th month of 574, Silla sent another embassy, but we have very little information on it—given the timing it may have been intended to express their condolences on the death of Ame Kunioshi and their congratulations to Nunakura for ascending to the throne. About four months later, in 575, Baekje also sent an embassy, and we are told that this one sent more “tribute” than normal, possibly as a congratulations to Nunakura and an attempt to strengthen the Baekje-Yamato alliance. There may have also been a request for more specific assistance, since Nunakura apparently took the time to remind the Imperial Princes, as well as the new Oho-omi, Soga no Umako, to remain diligent regarding the matter of Nimna. As Aston translates it, he specifically said “Be not remiss in the matter of Imna”. Yamato was still apparently displeased with the fact that Nimna, which was once an ally, was now under Silla control.
Following that, the Yamato court sent their own envoys to Baekje and then Silla—though specifically they sent the embassy to Silla controlled Nimna, according to the Chronicles. A couple of months later, Silla sent an embassy back, including more tribute than normal, though the only hint of why, beyond the previous mention of Nimna, is that Silla was including tribute for four more townships, which seems kind of a weird flex, but may have been an indication of their growth, as well as a diplomatic notification that these four areas were part of what Silla now considered their territory.
The full reasons Baekje and Silla sent more tribute than normal are unclear; it could have been part of a recognition of Nunakura’s coronation and an attempt to butter up the new administration. It is possible that both Baekje and Silla were vying for Yamato favoritism, as well. Silla may also have been trying to basically pay off Yamato and get them to forget the whole thing with Nimna—something that, as we shall see, was not going to happen quickly.
Yamato sent another mission to Baekje in 577, two years later. This was the mission of Ohowake no Miko and Woguro no Kishi to Baekje, from which Ohowake brought back various accoutrements and set up a temple in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. We discussed this, as well as our ignorance over the actual person of Ohowake no Miko, in our last episode, episode 88. It is interesting, however, if Ohowake no Miko was the actual individual who went to Baekje—mostly we see lower ranking men; those from Kishi level families, or similar. Occasionally a “muraji” or “omi” level family sends someone, particularly at the head of a military force, but not so often do we see a prince of the blood making the dangerous journey across the seas. I have to assume that this was an important mission, and that seems to have been borne out when you consider just what was brought back. Despite all of that, the details are frustratingly vague—worse than trying to find and put together the oldest episodes of Dr. Who and the First Doctor.
We do know that the whole trip took about six months, which gives a sense of what it meant to undertake one of these journeys. Most of that would have been living at the distant court. They didn’t have phones, let alone email, so they couldn’t really send word ahead with exact details—although there may have been informal communication networks via the many fishermen who regularly worked the straits. More likely, an embassy would simply show up in a boat one day and start asking the locals to “take me to your leader”.
Once you got there, they hopefully had room for you—they might even have a special location for you and your entourage to stay while they went through the formalities. After all, someone had to get you on the schedule, and any diplomatic gifts… ahem, “tribute”… should be catalogued and written down before the meeting. That way the host country could figure out just what they were going to reciprocate with. There is also possible training in any local ceremony and customs as you couldn’t assume that foreign dignitaries necessarily know what is expected. And then there would be the translating, likely through a shared language, possibly Sinic characters if everyone is literate.
Also, during that time, the mission would probably have been hosting guests or being invited out by some of the local elites. They were both guests and curiosities. And there might have been some personal trading and bartering going on off to the side—after all, you have to pay the bills somehow, and as long as nothing eclipsed the diplomatic mission, then I suspect there were some other “trade goods” that these ambassadors brought to help barter with locals and ensure they could bring back various goods and souvenirs.
In some cases, and it is unclear if it was by choice or not, ambassadors might be invited to stay longer, even settle down with a local wife and family. There are several examples of this that we see in the Chronicles, so it wasn’t all that rare.
So that was the mission from Yamato to Baekje. The next mission from Silla came in 579, some four years later, and we are told they brought “tribute” that included a Buddhist image. And then, only a year after that we have another mission, but it was dismissed before it could ever be received.
And that is a bit odd. Why would Yamato not receive the embassy? We aren’t given a reason, and it is pretty short, all things considered. We do know the names of the envoys. Indeed, the same two envoys: Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama tried again two years later, but they were again dismissed, without accepting the tribute. This is all quite odd, but it does go to show the fickle nature of foreign relations.
One possibility may have to do with the way that “tribute diplomacy” appears to have worked. We know that in the case of the Han, Wei, and even the Tang and later dynasties, states were encouraged to come as tributaries, bringing goods as part of their diplomatic embassy, and then the receiving state was expected to provide items of even greater value in return. In the 16th century, various daimyo, or Japanese warlords, would use this to their advantage, representing themselves as legitimate emissaries in order to get the Ming dynasty court to give them even greater gifts in return. As multiple embassies showed up, all claiming to be the Japanese representatives, the Ming court started a policy of only accepting the first one that came, as they had no way to tell who was the legitimate ruler during the chaos of the Warring States period.
I bring that up because I notice that the first mission by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama took place only 8 months or so after the one in 579, which brought the Buddhist image. Given the typical time between embassies, that seems very short, and it seems quite possible that the Yamato court didn’t believe that the embassy was real, and that it was too soon after the previous one. Or it could even have been even more mundane—it is possible the court didn’t have the stores to pay out against the tribute, though that isn’t the reason that they would have given for turning them away. After all, it was not exactly a safe journey to cross the ocean and make your way to Japan. Whether you hopped down the island chain or took a more direct route, using the island of Okinoshima as a guide post in the middle of the strait, it was not particularly easy and many embassies never made it across or back.
I suspect, however, that there was something else going on, and that is in part because it seems to be the same two individuals coming back two years later, and they were once again turned away. It is possible that Nunakura and the Yamato court had a specific beef with these two individuals, but in that case they probably would have sent word to Silla to tell them to send someone else. This probably is indicative of the growing tensions between Yamato and Silla. From a narrative sense, it would make sense for Yamato to accept envoys just after a new sovereign came to power. It would help legitimize the sovereign, and it also offers a chance to reset and reestablish the relationship. The second envoy, bringing a Buddhist image, would certainly be something that the Chroniclers would find historically interesting and would bolster their own thoughts about the rising importance of Buddhism in the period. However, as we see in an episode from 583, Nunakura was still concerned about trying to re-establish Nimna. I suspect that this may have been a condition the Yamato court placed on Silla and the envoys, and it is possible that they weren’t willing to discuss anything without at least discussing that.
Or perhaps that is at least the impression the Chroniclers wish to give. They are still referring to it as “Mimana” or “Mimana no Nihonfu”, making claims that it was the Yamato government’s outpost on the peninsula, and therefore something of a personal blow to the Yamato court for it to have been overrun. Trying to re-establish Nimna would become something of a rallying cry; think of it like “Remember the Alamo” or “Remember the Maine”; regardless of the truth behind either incident, they were both used as justifications for war at the time. The case of Mimana was used to justify Yamato actions on the peninsula, and it would continue to be brought back up until modern times, including helping to justify Japan’s invasion of Korea in the early 20th century.
Here I’ll interject with the possibility that there could also have been some internal issues that the court was dealing with. Specifically, in between these two missions by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama, there was a bit of a disruption on the northeastern frontier, as the people known to the court as the Emishi rose up in rebellion. We aren’t given the details, but we are told that several thousand Emishi “showed hostility”. The Chronicle then claims that the sovereign simply summoned the leaders, including a chief named Ayakasu, who may have been a chief of chiefs, and then reamed them out, suggesting that he would put the leaders—i.e. Ayakasu and the other chieftains—to death. Of course, the rebellious chieftains immediately had a change of heart and pledged an oath to support Yamato.
Much more likely, I suspect, there was rising tension and hostility in the frontier regions, and Yamato likely had to raise a force to go face them. Assuming that was the case, it would have taken time to travel out there, subdue any uprising, and then drag the leaders back to the court to make of them an example to others. If that was the case, then it may have been that Yamato simply did not feel they had the time to deal with Ato Nama and his crew.
For a bit clearer reference, from the 8th through 11th years of the reign, there are simply relatively short entries. So in 579 there is the mission of ChilCheulchong Nama, who brought the Buddhist image. Then, in 580, we have Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama attempt to offer tribute. Then, in 581, there is a rebellion of the Emishi, followed, in 582, by another attempt by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama to offer tribute. That’s about all that we have to go on.
In any case, though, we have a very clear indication in 583, only 9 months after again refusing the tribute from Ato Nama and crew, that Nimna was once again on the Court’s mind. Nunakura apparently went on a rant about how Silla had destroyed Nimna back in the days of his father, Ame Kunioshi. Nunakura claimed he wanted to continue his father’s work, but it was unclear just where to get started.
And so they decided to consult an expert. His name appears to have been something like Nichira—possibly something like Nila, depending on the pronunciation of the Sinic characters, or Illa in modern Korean, which is Aston’s preferred reading. It is said that he is the son of “Arishito” or “Arisateung”, the “Kuni no Miyatsuko”, or local ruler, of Ashikita, in the land of Hi, in Kyushu, and that he lived in Baekje, holding the rank of “Talsol”, the second official rank in the Baekje court. Ashikita was mentioned as far back as Episode 33, during the reign of Oho Tarashi Hiko, aka Keikou Tennou, as he was trying to subdue the Kumaso, and was likely a later addition to Yamato’s sphere of influence.
Nichira only makes a brief appearance here in the Nihon Shoki, but he is something of an enigma. He is presented as a citizen of Yamato, but his name appears to be from the Korean peninsula and even his father’s name hearkens back to another Arishito, who may have been the king of Kara or one of the associated polities. And yet here, this Arishito is the local ruler in Ashikita, in the land of Hi—later divided into Hizen and Higo. Given that he is referenced as “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko” this has been suggested as indicating that he was a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, the family that descended from the Lords of Hi. And this may connect to something later in the story.
There do appear to be some later documents that reference Nichira. Some claim that he was a Buddhist priest, and he’s even connected with the famous Shotoku Taishi in some stories, where he is depicted as a wise priest who recognizes Shotoku Taishi’s own Buddha nature. Of course, at this point, the prince would only have been about 10 years old, assuming the dates around his birth are at all accurate—a subject we’ll save for a later podcast, as there is just so much around Shotoku Taishi to cover.
As for the current story, however: Nichira was over in Baekje, at the court of the Baekje king, and so it wasn’t just a small matter of asking him to come to court. Ki no Kuni no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu and Kibi no Amabe no Atahe no Hashima were sent on the dangerous mission of crossing the straits and bringing him back from Baekje. Their mission was for naught, however. Three months later they returned, empty-handed, with the unfortunate news that the king of Baekje had refused to let Nichira leave. Apparently his presence in Baekje was highly prized, and the Baekje king wasn’t willing to part with him so easily.
Yamato wasn’t deterred, however, and Nunakura sent Hashima back to Baekje. This time, Hashima went straight to Nichira’s house before any audiences at court. When he arrived, he heard a woman calling out in the local language a phrase which Aston found salty enough to throw into Latin: “Let your root enter my root!” Despite the implied sexual innuendo of such a statement, Hashima quickly understood what she meant and he followed her inside. She led him to Nichira, and there Hashima was asked to take a seat.
Nichira acknowledged that the Baekje king was not likely to let him go if he had a choice. The King was likely afraid that if Nichira went to Yamato then he’d never be allowed to return back to Baekje. Therefore, Hashima had to summon all of the authority vested in him by the sovereign of Yamato to demand Nichira’s release in no uncertain terms.
Sure enough, Hashima took the bold approach and demanded Nichira’s release, and the King of Baekje finally relented and allowed him to return. He wouldn’t go alone, however. Nichira was accompanied by other high officials from Baekje, including several men of the 3rd and 4th ranks, and a number of sailors to transport them.
They first arrived in the land of Kibi, Hashima’s own home base, and then headed on to Naniwa, where Nichira was greated by Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji, likely a descendent of Ohotomo no Kanamura, the former top dog in the Yamato court. He offered Nichira condolences for the long trip he’d had to endure, and set him up in an official residence there in the port city.
Later there were daibu—high officials—who were sent to the residence to attend on Nichira.
After he’d had time to freshen up, Nichira headed off to the court. When he drew near, he donned a suit of armor and mounted a horse, and in such a fashion he rode right up to the Audience Hall of the sovereign. There he bowed before kneeling down. He then recounted how his forefathers had been sent to the Korean Peninsula up in the first place back in the reign of Senka Tennou, aka Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, in the early part of the 6th century. After explaining who he was and where he came from, he took off the armor and offered it as a gift to the sovereign himself.
Off to such a great start, the sovereign had a residence constructed for Nichira in the area of Kuwanoichi, in Ato—likely meaning an area of modern Ohosaka, near Naniwa. Later, with all of the ritual pleasantries out of the way, a war council was sent to ask Nichira just how they could move forward on the question of Nimna. This war council included Abe no Me no Omi, Mononobe no Niheko no Muraji, and Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji.
Nichira provided them a plan to go to war, but it wasn’t simple nor was it quick. First he suggested that they spend the first three years building up the prosperity of Yamato, and getting all of the people behind the government. Next, he suggested building up a massive number of ships, such at that any visitors would be impressed to see them all in the harbor, and thus word would get out and it would project Yamato’s military power.
Finally, once that was done, Nichira suggested inviting the King of Baekje—or at least a royal representative in the form of a high prince or similar—be invited to Yamato, where they would see all of the power and good governance. They could then be taken to task for why Nimna had not yet been reestablished.
After the war council, Nichira sent a letter to the sovereign, Nunakura. In it he let Nunakura know that Baekje was going to send a request to relocate 300 ships worth of people to Tsukushi to settle there. Here things turned rather dark as Nichira suggested that they would see the ships filled with men, women, and children hoping to establish a Baekje colony in the archipelago. Nichira suggested setting up an ambush around Iki and Tsushima and that they should slaughter everyone. Then Yamato should build up fortifications of their own—probably as coastal defenses in case Baekje decided to retaliate.
And here I’m going to interject that this seems just really odd and strange. First, Nichira and Nunakura were talking about trying to reestablish Nimna with their ally, Baekje, and suddenly Nichira is suggesting that Baekje might try to establish a colony in their territory, and therefore it should be wiped out. That all feels very extreme, and this whole passage has puzzled commenters, especially when you consider the reputation Nichira later has as some kind of holy priest or monk.
Apparently this was the kind of advice, though, that may have been why Baekje did not want Nichira to come back in the first place. In fact, as the Baekje envoys themselves began to head out to return to Baekje, they left a couple of people in Yamato with a sinister plot of their own: as soon as the ships had sailed off and made considerable distance on the way back home, those left behind were to assassinate Nichira. In return, they were told that they would be given a higher rank and that their families would be looked after, in the very real possibility that they found out and killed themselves. A not insubstantial promise at the time.
With the official residence in Naniwa vacated after the departure of the rest of the Baekje delegation, Nichira decided to move back in, rather than staying in the home made for him in Kuwanoichi. The would-be assassins tried to approach him, and hatched plot after plot. However, they were stopped because apparently Nichira had some ancient superpowers. Indeed, his body apparently glowed brightly, like a flame of fire, and so the assassins could not get anywhere near him. They had to wait until the end of the 12th month, when Nichira’s own radiance faded, and they were then able to slay him.
This whole thing about radiance is intriguing, and may have several origins such that even if it isn’t factually accurate, it may have something more to say about just who Nichira was or might have been.
First off, there is the obvious. “Nichi”, in “Nichira”, means the “sun”, and so it could have been a direct allusion to Nichira’s name. This strikes me as also intriguing because the 12th month indicates the end of the year, usually meaning that it is darker. While the Winter Solstice would not have necessarily been in the old twelfth lunar month, those would have been the days when the suns light was least seen. Add to this that it was at the end of the month, and based on a lunar calendar, the end and beginning of the month would have been the times of the new moon, when it was not visible in the sky. And so we come to what most likely was the darkest night of the entire year.
There is also the fact that he is from Hi no Kuni—he is even considered a member of the ruling family of the land of Hi. The character of “Hi” in this instance is fire. Michaeol Como notes that the Hi no Kimi appear to have been associated with fire cults, as well as with rites of resurrection. “Hi no Kimi” could also be translated as “fire lord”. There may be some connection there with the story.
Finally, we can’t ignore the Buddhist context. Holy individuals are often said to radiate light from their bodies. For example, we have the story about Nichira meeting the young child that would be known as Shotoku Taishi, found in the Konjaku Monogatari, or “Tales of Now and Then”, a 12th century collection of various stories, many focused on Buddhist stories. In that story, Nichira radiates a light and the Shotoku radiates a light of his own in response. In fact, Buddhist images often depict holy figures with halos, or even wreathes of flames around them, likely a depiction or literal interpretation of what we find in the Buddhist texts, which may have originally been meant more metaphorically.
Oh, and notice how I talked about resurrection? Maybe you thought we’d just let that one slide. Well, apparently there was a brief zombie moment, as Nichira suddenly came back to life after he had been killed just to implicate the men from Baekje who had stayed back, and then he died again. Supposedly this is because there was a Silla envoy in port, and he didn’t want them to take the blame.
That resurrection piece, well, it isn’t the first time we’ve seen that, and it isn’t entirely uncommon to hear about something along those lines. In the Harima Fudoki there is another story of resurrection, and it involves a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, or lords of Hi. In that story, a member of the Hi no Kimi came to a center of Silla immigrants and married a young woman whom he had brought back from the dead. Another connection between the country of Hi and some of what we see attributed to Nichira.
At the same time, Saints in ancient England would occasionally rise from their deathbeds for one last piece of wisdom or to admonish someone before laying back down into that sleep of death. At the same time, it is possible that diagnosing death, versus, say, a coma or other unconscious state with very shallow breathing, wasn’t always a clear thing. In the west, as recently as at least Victorian times people were so afraid of being buried alive that there were tombstones created with bells that went to a pull down in the coffin, just in case. There have also been practices of pricking a corpse with a needle or similar to try to get a response. So I could believe that every once in a while a person who was declared deceased wasn’t quite ready to start pushing up daisies, and it is possible that this is more of a deathbed accusation than any kind of resurrection.
Still, the story clearly depicts it as a brief, but true resurrection. From his words, the court arrested the envoys who had remained behind and threw them into some kind of confinement while they figured out what to do with them. Nichira’s wife and children were moved to Kudaramura, or “Baekje Village”, in the area of Ishikawa, while the sailors who had been part of Nichira’s household were settled in nearby Ohotomo no mura. It is unclear if they were given leave to return to Baekje if they wanted, or if that was even on the table.
As for the murderers themselves, they weren’t punished by the Court. Rather the court handed them over to Nichira’s family, the Ashikita, for them to deliver justice. I believe this is the first time we’ve really seen this kind of justice in the Chronicles, with the familial groups taking such a direct role.
Now why is this story important, and what does it tell us?
Well, nominally, this says something about the continuing struggle by Yamato to reestablish Nimna, but I’m not sure how much of that is accurate. Though the story starts out about consulting Nichira about Nimna, there is nothing more to say on that topic, and it quickly becomes something that is almost more about the seemingly fragile Baekje-Yamato alliance.
There is also an interesting side note that through all of this there were apparently Silla emissaries there in Yamato, even though the Chronicle claims that the last two were sent away, so what’s up with that? It could be that the story is anachronistic—that is, it isn’t recorded in the right year. Or there was a mission that just didn’t rise to the level of being noticed by the Chroniclers. One other thought is that the formal diplomatic ties were only some of the traffic flowing back and forth. This seems the most likely, to me. By this point there was no doubt a desire for trade goods on both sides of the strait, and no matter where people came from, the merchant ships were likely plying the waters back and forth. So it is quite possible that the men of Silla who were in port were part of a trade mission, not necessarily diplomats.
Michael Como suggests some other reasons why this whole thing was considered important. He notes that there are several things here that connect this to the Abe family. It is unclear where this family comes from, but they have been mentioned here or there throughout the Chronicles, and by this point are at least are fairly high up in the court. Their name is a bit of an enigma for me, and I’ll have to do more research. I just want to note that they use a different “Be” than the Mononobe or similarly created corporate families. It is unclear to me why this would be the case, unless this is just where the two seem similar.
It should be noted that we should be careful not to assume too much about this early Abe family from one of its most famous Heian era descendants, Abe no Seimei, known as a famous Onmyoji, or master of Yin-Yang divination. I’m not entirely sure that the Abe were any more or less court ritualists than any other family, especially this early. Rather, it is their influence over certain geographic regions that is more immediately of interest.
We noted that as the son of a “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko”, Nichira was likely a member of the Hi no Kimi clan. They were originally based in southern Kyushu, and Como notes that they may have been under the sway of the Abe clan, at least by the 7th century, along with other notable families of Tsukushi, which is to say, modern Kyushu.
There are a lot of connections between Ashikita, Hi, and Silla that are telling. In the Harima story, it is a Silla wife that the Hi no Kimi marries. When Nichira resurrects, it is specifically to ensure that the Silla envoys who were present would not take the blame. Then there is his father’s name—or more likely title—of Arishito. A term seen used for the King of Nimna at one point, but also for the ancient Tsunoga, who is said to have been an ancient prince from the continent. Como suggests that Hi no Kuni—and thus their lords, the Hi no Kimi, may have played a part in the rebellion of Iwai, when Iwai attempted to ally Kyushu with Silla to break off contact between Yamato and Baekje. It is even possible that this was one of the reasons that Nichira was basically being held hostage in Baekje—perhaps he and his family had been exiled after the rebellion, or else left before any harm could come to them.
It would make some sense as to why the court sought him out in the first place. If he and his family were familiar with Silla, perhaps the court thought he would have particular insights. It might also suggest some of his motives regarding Baekje as well. Still, the picture is far from clear.
Although the Chronicle says that Nichira was taken back to Ashikita and buried, other sources suggest that he was entombed in Naniwa at Himejima, near Himegoso shrine. This, in turn, was the home of a sub-lineage of the Abe family, known as the Himegoso Abe. Como suggests that by the 7th century, the Abe were appropriating various Hi no Kimi cultic centers, to the point that by the time the Chronicles were written, the Abe no Omi and the Hi no Kimi were claiming common ancestry and jointly participating in various rites.
Como then links the timing of the death of Nichira to certain court rituals of fire pacification and purification. And so there may have been much more at play here than simply the story of Nimna and the attempts to reestablish that country.
As for the envoys who sailed off and left their lackeys to do their bidding? Apparently they were struck with a bout of karma on the way back, and their boat foundered and sank. This was likely seen as proof that their deeds had been committed with evil intent, at least by later readers, interpreting everything through a Buddhist lens that likely saw Nichira as more saintly than it seems he truly was.
After all of that, though, there is no evidence that the court really pulled it off. Instead, in 584, the year after everything had gone down with Nichira, the court sent Naniwa no Kishi no Kitahiko off to Nimna, now controlled by Silla, presumably to negotiate for some kind of reinstatement. That doesn’t appear to have happened, however, and the year after that, in 585, there was one more attempt, this time by Sakata no Mimiko no Miko. Sakata had previously been sent on a mission to request Silla reestablish Nimna in 571, only months before the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, died. Now, as he was about to set out, the sovereign and the powerful Mononobe no Moriya came down with a pestilence, and were ridden with sores, such that they called off preparations for the mission. And sure enough, later that year, Ame Kunioshi’s successor, Nunakura Futadamashiki, likewise passed away.
I guess the rule here is don’t send Sakada no Mimiko to try to demand anything about Silla.
Of course, I have to also wonder if there wasn’t something else going on. It’s suspicious that the Chroniclers recorded two missions to Silla, both led by the same guy, both about reestablishing Nimna, and both happening just before the Sovereign passed away. Maybe history really repeated itself like this, or maybe the Chroniclers just knew that such a mission was sent in the last year of one of these reigns, and then put it in bothAnd we don’t hear anything more about Mimiko after that, either.
We also don’t hear anything else about the unfortunate envoy, Sakada no Mimiko, either. The other interesting thing to note is that, like Ohowake no Miko, Mimiko is a certified royal prince, though I don’t see any immediate name to connect him with, at least in the immediate lineage. It has been suggested that this is one of the sons of Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, though even that feels tenuous to me.
Either way, both he and Nunakura, as we noted last episode, passed away from the disease sweeping the land.
And that concludes the reign of Nunakura. Next, we’ll get into what happened after his death as we start to see the Soga influence become pre-eminent. There is more to say about the growth of Buddhism and about the clash between the Soga and the Mononobe, one of the formative conflicts from this early period. And of course, we’ve already caught glimpses of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, who had quite the impact on the court—assuming he even existed. But that’s a discussion for another episode.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, 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.

References

Dykstra, Yoshiko Kurata (tr.) (2014). Buddhist Tales of India, China, and Japan: A Complete Translation of the Konjaku Monogatarishū. Japanese section. United States: Kanji Press. ISBN-978-0-91-788008-7
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 83: Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha

April 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Image of the Buddha at Asukadera, one of the earliest temples in Japan (though the original is no longer extant). Buddhism would bring major changes to the archipelago. Photo by author

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This episode we are talking about Shakyamuni, the Historical Buddha, as we start a multi-episode look at Buddhism and how it came to the Japanese archipelago, as well as what it changed.

Who’s Who

SiddhartHa Gautama

The “Historical Buddha”. Believed to have been born around the 6th century CE, Siddhartha Gautama was born to the Shakya clan and became known as Shakymuni (sage of the Shakyas) and given the title of “Buddha”, or “Awakened One”. Buddhists believe that Siddhartha became awakened to the truths of existence and helped define a way to escape the suffering that exists in the mortal plane.

Ashoka the Great

A ruler on the Indian subcontinent around the 3rd century BCE who helped patronize Buddhism. While some histories claim that he completely converted to Buddhism to the exclusion of all else, there is evidence that he patronized multiple religions, though it is clear that Buddhist concepts entered into his lexicon in the form of his various edicts, which are found in inscriptions across his empire.

Buddhist Concepts

Tripitaka

Tri = Three and Pitaka = Basket, so this is literally “three baskets”. This describes the three groups of canonical Buddhist texts. There are the Sutras (Sutta Pitaka), the Vinaya (Vinaya Pitaka), and the Abhidharma (Abhidharma Pitaka).

Sutra

A document that describes the teachings of the historical Buddha, aka Shakyamuni. It includes recollections of his sermons and what he taught. Later there would be other Sutras that likewise claim to be canonical, but would not all be accepted as truth.

Vinaya

The written precepts for laypersons and monks. There are different lists, but they tend to have similar admonitions.

Abhidharma

Other writings about the teachings of the Buddha. These are not necessarily the actual teachings so much as scholarly discussion

Jataka Tales

While not necessarily canonical, these are stories about the previous lives of the Buddha.

The Three Jewels

The Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha

Buddha

“Awakened One”. Technically it can describe anyone who has achieved an enlightened state, but it often refers to the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni.

Dharma

The teachings of the Buddha.

Sangha

The community of believers.

The Four Sights

Four encounters that Siddhartha Gautama had that led him to seek a solution to human suffering. These were encounters with a person experiencing old age, disease, and even a dead body, along with encountering a wandering ascetic.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 83: Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha.
First a quick note—it has been brought to my attention that some of the episodes are out of order, particularly the older episodes. I’m going to try to fix that. It probably has to do with a decision I made about a year or so in to not worry about the “season” number, since this isn’t exactly a “seasonal” show. But if some episodes are marked as “Season 1” then they likely show up differently. I’ll probably see if I can’t just remove the “Season” number from all of the episodes and hopefully that will fix it.
Last episode we talked about the happenings over on the Korean Peninsula during the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, and it wasn’t looking very good for Yamato and their allies. Over the course of the last several decades in our story the kingdom of Silla rose to power, brokered a deal with Baekje, and then ended up eating up all of the smaller polities that sat between them, including Nimna, Kara, and whatever else was there.
A Baekje-Yamato alliance attempted to put the brakes on Silla’s ambitions, but despite some major offensives they were thwarted time and again. Overall, it seems rather a bleak outlook for Yamato, but there were several things going for it. For one thing, with their close relationship with Baekje, Yamato was getting a plethora of new ideas—from how to govern to the subject of our current episode: religion.
That’s right, if you didn’t figure it out from the title, we are finally going to talk about Buddhism.
The Buddhist religion and its accompanying institutions have played a huge role in the development of Japan and Japanese culture, and so we are going to want to understand something about this and where it came from, and the journey it took to get to the islands.
And to start with, let’s go back to the very beginning, of what Buddhism actually is.
Now this isn’t going to be an in depth history of Buddhism, but I am going to try to hit the high points so that we have some context for things we’ll see later on. It should also be noted that, while the core of the religion remained the same, specific beliefs and practices were not always universal across all people and at all times. Also, not everyone believes in exactly the same things, and as an outsider I’m going to do my best, but this will probably be more at the level of a Wiki article than a scholarly treatise. If you are interested in more, I highly recommend looking into what various scholars have written.
Also, a lot of what I’m pulling from is Andrew Skilton’s book, “A Concise History of Buddhism”, mainly because I think it fits what we are trying to outline here, but I recognize that there other teachings and scholarly discussions. Still, I think most of what we talk about will probably be at an even higher level than that book gets into.
And that brings me to another thing that's important to say up front: when I say Buddhism, I'm not necessarily talking about Zen, or any particular sect, at least not right now - though Zen is Buddhism, or a school of Buddhism. Likewise you might also hear about Tendai, Shingon, or even Jodo, or Pure Land, Buddhism— those are all sects within Buddhism, and just some of the schools that made it to Japan, although a lot of them don't appear until after the time we’re currently in. The differences between these sects could be likened to the differences between Roman Catholicism and various Protestant groups—or even with the Orthodox church. While they have differences, they also have their similarities, and the core beliefs that make them all Buddhist.
As to why this is so important—Buddhism had a huge impact on the development of Japan. As we’ll talk about in a later episode, the adoption of Buddhism affected not just the philosophical thinking of the Japanese court, but had direct impacts that would bring about the end of what we consider the Kofun era. Furthermore, having at least a cursory understanding of Buddhism is going to be useful in understanding some of the ways people thought about the world they inhabited.
Finally: I am probably going to butcher the pronunciation on a lot of Buddhist terms, but I will do my best. Where possible I may preference the Japanese terms, both because they are more familiar to me, but also because that is how most of us will encounter them in the context of Japanese history.
Buddhism gets its name from the fact that it promulgates the teachings of the Buddha, the Enlightened One, and while various people are believed to have attained this enlightened state over the course of human history, we usually are referring to the individual known to us as the Historical Buddha, also known to us as Siddartha Gautama.
Tradition holds that Siddartha was the son of one of the elites of the Shakya clan—later this would translate into the term “Prince”, though some think that term may not be quite accurate. Still he was born into power and privilege, at the height of his society; later this would translate into him being considered a member of the Kshatriya warrior class. His birthplace is thought to be located in “Lumbini”, at the foothills of the Himalayan mountains, in modern Tibet, in the 6th century BCE. Some traditions put the year of his birth at about 566 BCE, though there are those that suggest a later date, even into the 5th century.
From a young age, we are told that Siddartha was protected from much of the outside world, living a life of luxury, and unaware of the poverty and suffering that went on outside of the palace walls. You see, a seer had predicted that he would be destined to lead an empire—either political or spiritual. And so his father did everything he could to ensure that Siddartha would aspire to the political. Even though his mother had died when he was young, Siddartha was largely insulated from any suffering until his teenage years, and he was even provided a young wife, Yashodhara, by the time he was sixteen years old—which probably wasn’t that young, back in those days.
It was as a young man, in his late twenties, traveling about the land in a carriage, that Siddhartha saw four sights that suddenly set his mind on a different path. First, he saw an old man, and in asking about him, it occurred to him that old age and infirmity were the inevitable outcome of life; there is no escaping it. Likewise he encountered people suffering from disease and even death, in the form of a dead body. All of this forced him to confront the fact that suffering is a part of life here on the mortal plane. Finally, he encountered a wandering ascetic, which got him to thinking about spiritual matters, and that perhaps there must be a better way—a solution to all of this suffering.
As he contemplated what to do, he was suddenly graced with what should have been wonderful news: his wife had just given birth to a son. However, to Siddhartha, he saw this child as simply one more thing that was keeping him from going out and seeking answers to the problems he saw. The comfort of his life, the social obligations, the privileges he had were all metaphorical chains, keeping him from going out really trying to answer the questions he had.
And so, at the age of 29, he absconded himself. He left his wife and child. He left the power and prestige and worldly possessions he had inherited from his family, and he went out to seek answers and to find out how to put an end to suffering.
To do this, he sought out teachers, one after the other, learned what they had to teach, found himself at the end of what they could give him, and moved on. These teachers provided various meditation techniques, which helped, perhaps, to ease or even forget the pain and suffering of existence, but the pain and suffering were still there, nonetheless.
It should be noted that a core belief at this time was in the concept of reincarnation. The idea that, based on your karmic balance, that is the difference between the good and evil that you did, here in the world, you would be reborn after death into a new body and a new life. If you did well, then you would be born higher up the ladder of existence, perhaps into a better caste or more. But if you committed sins and evil acts then you would find yourself born further down the ladder of existence, perhaps even as an animal or an insect.
The problem, as Siddartha saw it, was that all of this just meant you kept going back through the same things over and over again, coming back into the world, and once more experiencing suffering. Even stories of the gods themselves tell of their wants and needs, and of their fighting, suffering, and even dying. As long as one stayed on the wheel of life and death, suffering would be inevitable, and you’d always come back around to it.
He sought out answers in some of the extreme forms of asceticism. Holding his breath for long periods. Starving himself. These were meant to bring on a state wherein he hoped he would find the answers. Eventually, though, he spurned these techniques as well, claiming they were dangerous and unnecessary.
He instead ate food in reasonable quantities, and found a form of meditation that felt natural. In other words, he sought out a path between the extremes of hedonistic overindulgence and severe deprivation—a Middle Way, one might say. Practicing this tempered form of existence, he meditated under a tree, and it was there that Siddartha Gautama achieved an awakening, or enlightenment.
He could see the world for what it truly was, and gained profound insight into our condition. This is how he became known as Buddha, or “the one who has awoken”, to quote Andrew Skilton. He was only 35 years old—he had been studying for 6 years to this point, when he finally found the answers he was looking for.
Quick side note right here: For many, “Buddha” is not a single person or individual. People may talk about the historical Buddha to refer to Siddhartha Gautama, but technically “Buddha” is a title for anyone who has awakened to the truths of the universe. Buddhist traditions would come to define various people who had attained this enlightened state, though Siddhartha Gautama is generally considered the most important for the current era.
Siddhartha Gautama spent the next forty-five years or so of his life wandering the land and teaching his Middle Way to anyone who would listen. He initially spent time teaching in the area of the Bodhi Tree, where he had first experienced his revelation, and this area is known to us as Bodh Gaya. He later went to a deer park in the area of Rshipatana, where five of the ascetics whom he used to hang out with were gathered.
These ascetics had known Siddhartha when they were all practicing extreme deprivation together. They had come to see him as a teacher, but turned from him when he spurned his own attainments and started on his Middle Path. It took some initial convincing, but Siddhartha was eventually able to convince them and bring them around.
From five, Siddhartha’s disciples soon grew to 60, and he sent them out across the land to share his teachings with the people. His community of followers—known as his Sangha—continued to grow. As for Siddhartha himself, he seems to have focused much of his time on urban centers, with much of the last 20 to 25 years spent weathering the rainy monsoon seasons in the city of Sravasti.
When he was 80 years old, Siddhartha grew seriously ill, possibly from something he ate. Realizing his own state, it is said that he predicted his death in three days, and he passed away among a grove of trees. Seven days later, his remains were cremated, and, much as with holy men everywhere, bone and teeth left over from the cremation were distributed as relics. Tradition holds that ten relics went to ten rulers for burial under stupas, or memorial mounds, as a tribute to Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha.
After his death, his disciples continued to grow the community, or Sangha, and spread the word. The life and teachings of the Buddha were written down in various documents and these were copied into different languages.
In about the 3rd century BCE, Buddhism gained a powerful patron in the form of Ashoka. No, not the Togruta jedi, Ahsoka Tano, but the Mauryan king, Ashoka the Great. Much of what comes down to us about Ashoka is as likely legend as fact, but we do know some things for certain because Ashoka left his own words carved in stone across his kingdom. Many of these mention Buddhist ideas and concepts and even identify key sites, such as the site of Lumbini, where Siddhartha Gautama was born.
At the same time, I would be remiss in not pointing out that it can be difficult to suss out just what Ashoka believed. He certainly patronized Buddhism, much as Constantine patronized Christianity, including calling councils together to help ensure Buddhist orthodoxy, but it also can be read as a form of propaganda, utilizing Buddhist concepts to strengthen his own rule. We’ll see how later sovereigns would use similar tactics to lay claim to being a Buddhist sovereign, as well.
Whatever his motivations, the pillars and inscriptions left from the 3rd century BCE provide us some of the first instances of the term “Buddha”, as well as another name, “Shakyamuni”, the “Sage of the Shakyas”; the “Shakyas” being Siddhartha’s own people.
So with the patronage of Ashoka the Great, the influence of Buddhism spread. But what was it?
Well, what we know is what was passed down, first as oral tradition, and later written down.
First of all, all things in existence are impermanent. That is they come and go. People live and they die. Even we change, moment from moment, nothing is truly static in this world—even if it were to last for thousands and thousands of years.
Then there is suffering—the bane of humankind’s existence. However, it is also inescapable, at least in this life. Describing suffering, and his solution to it, Siddhartha, aka Shakyamuni, revealed the Four Noble Truths, which are at the heart of Buddhist teaching. They are, roughly:
· Suffering is an innate characteristic of existence. Even the greatest pleasure eventually fades, leaving longing in its wake. No matter how many times you go round the wheel of life and death, you cannot escape it.
· Suffering arises because of our desires. From our material wants and needs to simply our desire to not be hungry or cold.
· Ending our attachment can help us put an end to suffering.
· To put an end to desire, and thus to suffering, one should follow the Eightfold Path.
So the four noble truths are something like a diagnosis of the human condition and then a potential solution. By the way, notice the numbers four and eight—just as Christianity tends to find particular value in the number seven (seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues, etc.) and 12 (Jesus and the 12 Apostles), Buddhism finds particular significant in the number eight, and, to some degree, the number four, although that would clash in some areas of East Asia, where the word for “four” sounded like the word for death.
And that eight is found in Shakyamuni’s recipe for how to end suffering:
Right understanding
Right resolve
Right speech
Right action
Right livelihood
Right effort
Right mindfulness
Right concentration
These are all individual actions for someone to strive to achieve, but they are also pretty vague. After all, what is “Right Understanding” or “Right Resolve”? That feels kind of like giving someone directions by saying “take the right road and you’ll get to where you want to go”.
Indeed, Buddhism therefore offers various precepts for how to live your life in accordance with the eightfold path. There are precepts for the lay person and precepts for monks and nuns. These include the requirement to avoid taking a life, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, and even harsh, frivolous, or senseless speech. There are also positive admonitions, such as to cultivate loving kindness and speech that is truthful, kindly, helpful, etc. There are different lists of these precepts, but they generally include the same things.
On top of this were the rules for monks, including such things as fasting after midday; no singing or dancing; no garlands, scent, or adornments; no luxurious beds; and a vow of poverty—no accepting gold or silver, the coin of the day.
Besides following the precepts, there were various teachings and practices that monks and lay persons can follow. Most common are various techniques of meditation, meant to help open the mind to see beyond the surface of what we can perceive with our eyes and our ears and to transform one’s consciousness.
All of this was geared towards the eventual attainment of a state of enlightenment, and eventually, nirvana. Contrary to many popular portrayals, though, nirvana is not some kind of heavenly existence. After all, any existence in this plane, at least as we know it, was still suffering. Instead, to attain nirvana meant to escape the cycle of death and rebirth entirely. How and what that looks like may vary depending on your interpretation, but that is generally agreed upon as the ultimate goal of Buddhist practice.
This does not mean that there was not a concept of a heaven or a hell in Buddhism. While some have suggested that much of Buddhism and Buddhist practice is philosophical in nature, or geared more towards mindful practice, it is also steeped in certain cosmological views of the universe, and greatly influenced by the beliefs in the Indian subcontinent. Gods and demons, however, were simply different orders of existence, and even gods and demons could seek their own escape from suffering if they chose to do so.
It appears as though Buddhism was originally passed down as an oral tradition amongst the community of Shakyamuni’s followers. Eventually this was written down in texts, describing Buddhism for those who came later. The canonical texts that outline the Dharma, that is to say the teachings of the historical Buddha, are known as sutras. They contain the actual words of the historical Buddha, or so it is believed, and the core of his teachings.
Then there are the Vinaya, which are those writings about the community, or Sangha, and the rules for the community and for various monks. These came about as the community grew, and various Buddhists in different areas, without access to the direct disciples of the Buddha themselves, started to vary in their practices. As such, the Vinaya texts were written to try to give some shared reference material.
Finally, there are the Abhidharma texts, which are further writings about the teachings, generally with a more scholarly bent. They elaborate upon what is found in the sutras, but are not considered the actual teachings of the historical Buddha.
Together, these three classes of texts are known in the Buddhist tradition as the Tripitaka, or three baskets, with any canonical text generally falling into one of the three descriptions.
I’ll note that it is unclear to me just when these texts were written down. The oldest extant sutra fragments are from sometime between the 1st century BCE and the 3rd century CE, but some of the texts—particularly sutras and Abhidharma texts, were likely around much earlier. Various traditions make claims to when different texts were written, but it can be hard, sometimes, to discern fact from fiction.
There is also at least one other form of Buddhist literature which would be important in its spread, and that is the jataka tales. These are stories about the previous lives of the Buddha. Much like Aesop’s fables or the parables found in the Bible, these are stories that contain lessons and often help to break down or explain a particular point, but they are not necessarily the direct teachings of the Buddha himself.
The focus of the canon was to help define and preserve the Three Jewels of Buddhism: Memory of the Historical Buddha, Siddartha Gautama, aka the Shakyamuni Buddha; the Dharma, which is to say, his teachings, and the Sangha, or the community of followers.
Over time, things changed. Early on, Buddhist monks would wander much of the year, coming back together during the rainy seasons and then dispersing again. At various times they would call a council and come together and ensure they still held the same doctrines, though even with that, differences began to form. At first it was just over things like the rules of conduct, which might differ in one place or another. Eventually, though, different sutras began to appear here and there, claiming to describe different teachings of the Buddha. One such sutra is the Lotus Sutra, which claims to tell the story of what the Buddha taught after his last sermon. It claims that after most of the people had left, the Buddha began another discourse just for those who remained, and that became known as the Lotus sutra, one that many will likely have heard of. Other texts include the Heart Sutra and the Diamond Sutra.
Not everyone accepted these texts as factual and canonical scriptures, however. Particularly in the south, down to Sri Lanka, many of the Buddhist communities continued to focus on what they considered the orthodox canonical texts, while others began to incorporate these new sutras into their practice. Those sects that accepted the new sutras, which often focused on the concept of Boddhisatvas—individuals who had done all they needed to attain Buddhahood, but who had “remained” in this world to help shepherd and guide others—or on various tantric and spiritual techniques to attain Buddhahood for themselves, became known as the Mahayana, or Great Vehicle, sects. On the other hand, those sects that denied the authenticity of such sutras and which tried to keep to what they believed was the original tripitaka became known as Theravada Buddhism. Today, Theravada Buddhism tends to be more popular in Southeast Asia, in places like Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos, while Mahayana Buddhism tends to define many of the practices in Tibet, China, Korea, and Japan.
In addition to changes in what people considered doctrine, the nature of the Sangha and Buddhist worship changed as well. Over time, monasteries were set up as specific places where monks could settle down. This may have originally arisen from the places where they would gather during the monsoons, but they eventually became places where the monks themselves stayed, and where individuals might come to learn. In addition, there was a rise in the worship of holy relics, and many such settlements would have one or more stupas containing some form of holy relic that the people could pray to.
People also built statues depicting the Buddha and other figures from the stories. An entire school of how to depict various Buddhas and other figures came about, with specific hand gestures and postures imparting specific meaning to what was built. Traditions arose around how to build these temples and monasteries as well as to how to build the various statues and even to specific identifying features that would call out the Buddha, such as long fingers, drooping earlobes that had once held heavy and elaborate earrings, toes that were all the same length, et cetera. The features of Buddha images—especially the faces—would change in different areas. Much as Jesus is often depicted as a white man, Buddha would typically be depicted with features similar to the people who were making the image. Still, certain aspects remain the same from one tradition to another such that they are all recognizable as the Buddha.
From Shakyamuni’s home south of the Himalayas, Buddhism would eventually spread, following the trade routes of the so-called Silk Road. Buddhist missionaries appear to have made contact with the Han dynasty, but it wasn’t until the Northern and Southern states period that it really took off. Likewise, it made its way to the Korean peninsula, and from there to Japan.
But those are all things to save for our next episode, when we take a look at just how this new religion grew and expanded and became so influential in the continent and eventually in the peninsula and the archipelago itself.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, 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.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Skilton, Andrew (1994). A Concise HIstory of Buddhism. Barnes & Nobles Books, by arrangement with Windhorse Publications. ISBN 0-7607-4829-2.

Yakuchi no Ason on Otokashi (八口朝臣音橿)

Iki no Muraji no Hakatoko (壱伎連博徳)

Nakatomi no Ason no Omimaro (中臣朝臣臣麻呂)

Kose no Ason no Tayasu (巨勢朝臣多益須)

Fuse no Ason no Miushi (布勢朝臣御主人)

Ōtomo no Ason no Miyuki (大伴宿禰御行)

Rank and Court Clothing

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Silla

King Munmu of Silla

King Sinmun of Silla

King Hyoso and Queen Sinmok

Silla Rank System

Great Tang

Tang Gaozong

Tang Zhongzong

Tang Ruizong

Wu Zhao, aka Wu Zetian

Lai Junchen

Di Renjie

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Silla

Goguryeo

Tamna

Tang Empire

Mishihase

Non-Yamato Cultures on the Archipelago

Hayato

Tanegashima and Yakushima

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Kashikiya Hime

Prince Takeda

Soga no Ōmi no Umako

Soga no Sakaibe no Omi no Marise

Soga no Ōmi no Emishi

Prince Yamashiro no Ōe

Prince Hase

Prince Tamura

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Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Nichira

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Who’s Who

SiddhartHa Gautama

Ashoka the Great

Buddhist Concepts

Tripitaka

Sutra

Vinaya

Abhidharma

Jataka Tales

The Three Jewels

Buddha

Dharma

Sangha

The Four Sights

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