Episode 37: Badass Women of Ancient Japan

March 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

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

RSS

Archives

This episode we are going to take a pause and look at some of the truly exceptional women in the ancient stories. True, it may be questioned if some of these individuals existed at all, but there is a good argument to be made that their stories are, at the very least, rooted in some truth. Furthermore, we’ll take a look at some of the assumptions that we make about history in general.

Rather than recounting what we talked about previously, how about a few links and you can listen to their story again?

But really, there isn’t all that much to say: Women were always a part of history and in many cases were pretty badass. Deal with it.

Description text goes hereWelcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 38: Two sovereigns and a minister.
Before we get started, thank you to Paul for donating to support the show. If you’d like to join them, you can drop us a few dollars over at ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo—that’s K-O-Dash-F-I.com/sengokudaimyo—or find a link over at our website, sengokudaimyo.com/podcast.
So greetings, everyone, and welcome back! We are continuing on in this episode with the Chronicles’ stories about the Tarashi dynasty, this episode: Two sovereigns and a Grand Minister.
This episode we are going to move into the lives of the thirteenth and fourteenth sovereigns, Waka Tarashi Hiko and Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, and we’ll take it right up to the story of Okinaga Tarashi Hiko, who probably should be considered the 15th sovereign but for reasons of patriarchy is often just considered a regent. We’ll also talk about the Grand Minister who seems to be conspicuously woven into all of their reigns.
First, though, let’s recap. We recently covered the life of Oho Tarashi Hiko, aka Keikou Tennou, the twelfth official sovereign, and the first to use “Tarashi” in his name—which is why I’m following some others and considering this next group of sovereigns, starting with Keikou, the Tarashi dynasty. The weird part about it is that even though I call it a “dynasty” we will very quickly see that it doesn’t exactly have the direct lineal descent lines that we would expect with such a term, something we touched on a few episodes back.
So as you might recall, Oho Tarashi Hiko had a son, Prince O’usu, aka Yamato Takeru, who is famous for subduing the Kumaso in the south and the Emishi in the north. Quite the warrior, when it comes down to it, and the Kojiki would have us focus almost exclusively on him. It seems quite clear that he was supposed to be the Crown Prince, which he may have been, if he didn’t die at a young age—only about 30 years old, according to the Chronicles. In an age where most of the sovereigns are noted for living for over a hundred years, that really was the cherry blossom of a life—burning bright, but quickly extinguished.
Oho Tarashi Hiko then made his other son, Waka Tarashi Hiko, his heir, and he became the lucky 13th sovereign, known to later generations as Seimu Tennou. Now, if I haven’t said it before, I should probably note that “Oho” generally means large, but can also mean “elder”, and “Waka” means younger. That could certainly apply to a father and son, but doesn’t necessarily have to, and could mean brothers or even some sort of male co-rulers, but for now we will assume the Chronicles are correct and that Oho Tarashi Hiko and Waka Tarashi Hiko were father and son.
Now, as I mentioned in a previous episode, Waka Tarashi Hiko isn’t a very noted sovereign. It isn’t that he was bad, even, he just didn’t do a whole lot of note, and we have a very sparse record of him and his accomplishments. Not bad, not good, just sort of, well—middling.
There were only two things that he was said to have donethat would really have some major effects later on. First, he designated his nephew, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko as his heir—which is odd because they say he did that because he had no sons of his own. However, the Kojiki does record one son, Waka nuke no Miko, who seems to have been born to his wife, and one assumes the queen, Oto Takara no Iratsume, but other than the one reference we really have no other information on him, including why he wasn’t made his father’s heir..
But the other thing Waka Tarashi Hiko did was to promote his good friend and companion, Takechi Sukune, to the post of Oho-omi. Now “Omi”, as we mentioned before, meant minister, or something like that, and we see it in kabane, but we also see it in things like “Michi no Omi”—the Minister of the roads. “Oho-Omi”, with that long “O” sound—originally probably more like “Opo’omi”—would mean the Great Minister, and this seems to be the first time it is used in the historical record. That means that Takechi Sukune was being promoted to the number one spot in the government, outside the sovereign themselves. That’s pretty huge, if you ask me!
Now if you don’t recall Takechi Sukune, I don’t blame you. His name kept cropping up in Oho Tarashi Hiko’s reign, here and there, but unlike Yamato Takeru, who had an entire section devoted to him, reference to Takechi Sukune is a bit more disjointed.
His father was a loyal servant of Oho Tarashi Hiko, one whom we mentioned in passing: Ya Nushi Oshiho Dake Wo Goro no Mikoto, also known as Take Wi-Goro, so we’ll just go with that for now. When Oho Tarashi Hiko was about to embark for a tour of the province of Kii, south of Yamato, to sacrifice to all of the spirits in that land, a pre-travel divination was held, and it determined that the sovereign should not take this journey, as it was inauspicious for him to do so. Therefore, Take Wi-goro stepped up and offered to go in the sovereign’s stead to worship all of the kami.
This he did, and then he resided there in Kashihara in Abi, where he met a woman, Kage Hime, and she eventually gave birth to a son who would one day be known as Takechi Sukune. So he was already born with a lineage of service to the throne.
We next hear about Takechi Sukune in the 27th year of Oho Tarashi HIko—when he was somewhere in his 20s. He was sent by the sovereign to go and map out the north and east and to report back. He made it all the way to the place known as Hitakami before coming back, and he told the court all about the Emishi living in that region. Of course, shortly thereafter, Yamato Takeru is sent on more or less the same journey, and the Chronicles provide a lot more details, upstaging Takechi Sukune’s own accomplishments.
Later, Takechi Sukune is the one who hangs back with Waka Tarashi Hiko to make sure nothing happens while the rest of the court is busy feasting and having a grand old time. It seems a small thing, but when combined with everything else, we can see that Takechi Sukune was a devoted minister, and when Waka Tarashi HIko was dedicated as the Crown Prince, Takechi Sukune was given the title of Prime Minister, or Oho’omi.
Some time after that, when Waka Tarashi Hiko came to the throne, it is again stated that Takechi Sukune was raised to that same status of Oho’omi, and he remained so for his entire 60 year reign. When Waka Tarashi Hiko passed away, the Nihon Shoki claims he was 107 years old, so he must have been born some time around the 4th year of Oho Tarashi Hiko’s reign, which is when Yasaka Iribime is said to have become Oho Tarashi Hiko’s consort, at least. Takechi Sukune is actually said to have been born on the same day as Waka Tarashi HIko—hence the affection the two had, since they grew up together. That would mean that Takechi Sukune must have been 107 at the time of Waka Tarashi Hiko’s death, and he continued to serve in that position for much longer.
And this is not just Takechi Sukune whose lifespan seems to be even longer than the sovereigns he is serving. In the Kujiki we see similar things, with various members of the Mononobe serving multiple sovereigns, and then their children are popping up two or three sovereigns later. This actually makes a lot of sense—for most historical sovereigns, their reigns are often just at the tail end of their own lifespans, since they usually come to the position after the death of their own parent. If these reigns aren’t actually 60 years like the Chronicles claim, but more like 10~20 years, suddenly, we start to see how all of these advisors could realistically have had court careers that lasted through several reigns.
And speaking of the Mononobe family, they seem to have made out fairly well under Waka Tarashi Hiko, who is mentioned as granting title to or being served by at least 8 of the Mononobe members listed in the Tenson Hongi in Kujiki. By contrast, there are 6 Mononobe mentioned in connection to his predecessor, Oho Tarashi Hiko, and none that are listed in connection with his successor, Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko—though just why that may be the case will become apparent in a bit. There is one who is mentioned in connection with the reign of Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tenno, and at least four with her son and successor, Homuda Wake, aka Oujin, both of whom will play fairly important roles, later on. Given Waka Tarashi Hiko’s abbreviated mention in the actual lineage, it seems odd that so many of the Mononobe seem to be connected to him. Perhaps there was something here, and it was forgotten—perhaps even deliberately—since he wasn’t actually directly in line with the sovereigns of the 8th century, but was rather something of an offshoot. Or it is possible that his reign was actually quite short, and the author of the Kujiki found this a convenient spot to fluff out the lineage of the Mononobe themselvs.
Either way, it is definitely a mess, but let’s move on a bit and talk about the 14th sovereign, the one known to posterity as Chuuai Tennou.
Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, or Chuuai Tennou was, according to the chronicles, born of the union of Yamato Takeru and Futaji Iribime, which means that he was Waka Tarashi Hiko’s nephew, not his son. Interestingly, both his name and his posthumous title contain the word “Naka” or “Chuu”, meaning “middle”. The explanation is that he was actually the middle of three brothers—predictably, the Chronicles don’t seem to count his younger sister. One might be surprised to find out that the various numbers given in the Chronicles for his family members don’t exactly add up. Or at least you might be surprised if you are just joining us - otherwise it is just par for the course. The weird thing is that these numbers aren’t even internally consistent.
The Kojiki gets around a lot of this timey-wimey, Jeremy Bearimy stuff by just not worrying about regnal dates, for the most part. It simply tells the story and it is up to the reader to determine what happened when. But the Nihon Shoki is obsessed with dates, even if they are ludicrous. And in this case it is bewildering and makes you wonder how they could have had this happen—though it could also be a simple arithmetic error.
You see, according to the Nihon Shoki, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko was named the Crown Prince in the 48th year of Waka Tarashi Hiko’s reign, which wouldn’t seem odd until you see the line that says he was only 31 years old. Well, if he was 31 years old, then doesn’t that mean he would have had to have been born in the 17th year or so of Waka Tarashi Hiko’s reign? Yet his father, Yamato Takeru, supposedly died in the 43rd year of Oho Tarashi HIko’s reign, some 17 years before Waka Tarashi Hiko even took the throne. So that puts some 34 years between Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko and his father, Yamato Takeru.
And it does seem possible that we are catching, here, a simple error by the scribes. After all, if he were made Crown Prince in the 31st year of Waka Tarashi Hiko’s reign, and he were 48 at the time, then that would mean he was born the year that his father, Yamato Takeru, passed away. Now, instead of 34 years, we are at least in the ballpark—but even then, Yamato Takeru had been on campaign against the Emishi, and that started 3 years earlier. So when exactly he and his wife got together in all that time is more than a bit of a mystery. Not to mention, the final bit of the puzzle: Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko is only the middle of three brothers—if this were MBMBAM we might say that he is the Middlest Brother, Travis McElroy. So if his father died the year he was born, when was his younger brother born, let alone his younger sister?
So clearly once again there are some date issues with the text, things that you would think that anyone could possibly have seen and that the Chroniclers probably could have adjusted. But add it all to our centenarian of a Great Minister, and something fishy is going on here. Indeed, Takechi Sukune would go on to serve as the Great Minister for about that same amount of time, right up to the time of the 15th or 16th sovereign, serving the court in at least four different reigns.
Of course, there are many theories as to just what is going on, but no cold hard facts: It isn’t like any of the scribes made a note about just how preposterous these dates were. And, by the way, the fact that the dates *are* so messed up gives me some hope that there are at least some true nuggets of cultural memory embedded in the rest of the story. After all, if it was just made up out of whole cloth, why have some of these elements at all?
There is also something in all this that could easily be missed, and it isn’t consistent across all of our sources, but there is the idea that Futaji Hime—aka Futaichi Hime—was, in fact, the daughter of Ikume Iribiko. This is important because Futaji Hime was one of the wives of Yamato Takeru and the mother of Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko and his siblings. If that was the case, then might Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko’s matrilineal history be as important, or moreso, than his patrilineal? Remember, lineage from the mother often determined things like eligibility to the throne as much or even more than the fathers. After all, there were many children of various sovereigns, but they had to be born of the proper mother—the designated queen—and half-siblings of the same father but different mothers were not considered to be truly brother and sister to each other. It also makes him a descendant of both the Iribiko dynasty of Makimuku as well as the Tarashi dynasty. This detail isn’t consistent across the sources, though, so it also could have been a detail added later to further legitimize this side of the family.
Now, our earliest information on Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko’s reign comes largely from the Nihon Shoki. The first account is actually one of a strictly filial nature, emphasizing his connection to his father, Yamato Takeru: Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko decides to gather white birds to adorn the pond at his father’s, tomb mound. Now, as you may recall, Yamato Takeru’s soul is said to have flown up to the heavens in the form of a white bird, and so this would seem a fitting tribute—though don’t ask me how they were going to get the birds to stay there once they brought them down. Maybe a whole lot of birdseed and some glue?
Anyway, as birds were being brought from the Koshi region, the delegation camped out along the bank of the Uji river. There, they were stopped by Prince Gamami Wake of Ashigami, a younger brother of the sovereign, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, though by a different mother. I believe this may be the same as the prince elsewhere listed as Ashikagami, but there isn’t really a clear link either way, other than mention of his relation to Naka tsu Hiko. Anyway, Prince Gamami Wake asks why they are taking the birds, and when he hears it is because of an order by his elder brother-by-different-mother, the sovereign, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, for their father’s tomb, he scoffs. “These may be white birds, but they will be black birds, once I’ve roasted them.” And so saying, he confiscates the birds and has them cooked to eat.
Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko was none too pleased with this, and he sent troops to go and put his younger brother to death for disrespecting their father in such a manner.
This seems to have put people on notice—Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko may be the middle child, but he wasn’t taking the middle way. He wasn’t about to take disobedience from anyone, even members of his own family. Of course, this also strikes me as a very Confucian—and thus continental—story, and it is quite possible it was added in after the fact for some reason.
Now the second thing of note that he did was to move the court. You may recall that his grandfather, Oho Tarashi Hiko, had moved the court to Shiga Taka Anaho in the last three years of his reign, and it is assumed that Waka Tarashi Hiko had kept the court there, along Lake Biwa, away from its traditional home in the Makimuku district. But Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko moves it yet again, this time up to Kehi, in Tsunoga—aka Tsuruga. If that sounds familiar, it should be, but we’ll get to that later. This is really quite something, though—he’s literally moved the palace to the other side of Honshu, which seems pretty drastic, although it is noted that this is just a temporary palace. Still, to move the entire court up there seems to have been quite the move to make.
Anyway, after moving everyone up to Kehi, including his queen, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, the sovereign decides to take a tour of the quote-unquote “southern provinces”. Here, again, we see something interesting because for Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, the “Southern Provinces” seems to have meant Kii—and possibly Yamato. For this journey, he takes a quote-unquote “small” number of courtiers—just three high officials, known as “daibu”, and several hundred officers. I don’t know about you, but that hardly feels like it is simply a “small” retinue, but it is what it is. The daibu aren’t actually listed by name, and so all of this may be an exaggeration.
Now, while he was down in Kii, staying at yet another palace, this one at Tokorotsu, word reached the sovereign that, just as in his father’s time, the Kumaso were in rebellion again, and he decided to go, much like his father, and put a stop to it. Without a thought, he put his men on boats and sailed west through the Seto Inland Sea, and he sent word to his wife, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, to come join him. She—and, one presumes, the rest of the court—took the northern route from Tsuruga Bay across the Japan Sea coast of Western Japan, eventually coming around through the straits of Shimonoseki. As they were doing that, the sovereign had already reached his staging ground of Anato—aka Nagato province, modern Yamaguchi prefecture. There, he anchored at Toyora and set up the Toyora Anato Palace, traditionally identified as being in the area of modern Shimonoseki city.
Of course, it was easy enough for him to slip over through the Seto Inland Sea, but his wife, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, had a bit farther to travel. And on the journey she had a few notable encounters. The first was at a place called Nuta, where they decided to have a meal aboard the ship, rather than stopping to eat on land. This seems to be identified with the area off of Mikata district, in modern Fukui Prefecture, just around Tsuruga Bay—so quite early in the journey.
Now, this idea of cooking and eating on board may not seem like much to us. After all, cruise ships are known for their all-you-can-eat buffets. But remember that the images we have of these early Japanese vessels are something more akin to large canoes than the broad-based ships of later periods, and I’m guessing it is unlikely that there was a lot of room on board for cooking and other such things, so I suspect that this means she wanted to keep them moving. On the other hand, it could also mean that she wanted to obtain food while still on the sea—in other words, take some time to throw out the nets and see what could be brought up that might be edible.
Either way, the story says that there were tai—or sea bream—schooling around the boat. Tai are a very popular fish in Japanese cuisine, even today, and its red scales can be quite striking. Apparently Okinaga Tarashi Hime had an idea and she poured out sake into the ocean around the ship. According to the legend, the fish got so drunk on the sake that they bobbed up to the surface and the sailors could just pick them up, providing the crew a feast. It is said that the fish of that place would regularly float belly up in the 6th month of the year in honor of that event.
Now, I don’t know if there is an actual event that would cause fish to float belly up during a particular time of the year—and if there was, I don’t know if I would trust those fish to be any good for eating. Typically, floating upside down indicates a problem with a fish’s swim bladder, and probably indicates some kind of illness or problem. But anyway, there you have the story.
In fact, I’d just like to state: Please don’t try to get fish drunk. Yes, they can get drunk, but too much is poisonous. Which, of course, could definitely explain them floating upside down. In fact, you can find suggestions on the Internet of using alcohol to help settle a large fish. Basically, the idea is that as fish swim through the alcohol, it is very quickly absorbed through the gills. This also means that it can hit them much harder than humans, going straight to the bloodstream, which is poisonous. Not a problem if you are just going to eat them, but I can stress enough that I am not condoing anyone going out and trying to get fish drunk.
More interesting, to me, is the praise that is given for the fish, because the sailors claim that the fish were “given to us by our wise sovereign.” Remember, this is Okinaga Tarashi Hime, not her husband, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko. Why would she be considered a wise sovereign? Just something to think about, for now.
Later, they pull into Toyora harbor, alongside her husband’s boats, and when she arrives, Okinaga Tarashi Hime immediately finds an oyster with a nyoi pearl. Now this is clearly an anachronistic term, and probably an anachronistic story. You see, a nyoi pearl refers to the “ever bright and luminous pearl” on a nyoi scepter seen in the hands of particular Buddhist idols – in other words, it is specifically a Buddhist term, and Buddhism wouldn’t show up in Japan for a good while, yet, but it would have been a clear indicator for the Chroniclers and their audience.
Both of these events seem to be foreshadowing Okinaga Tarashi Hime’s larger role in the future.
Once at the Toyora Anato Palace, then, what would you think that Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko and Okinaga Tarashi Hime would do? Would they set up a war council and prosecute the war from there, sending down soldiers to pacify the Kumaso? Apparently not. No, instead, despite all the hurry that he was in to get here, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko decides that he’s going to just sit there and enjoy the pleasures of Anato for the next five years. Once again, I feel we are seeing some of the limitations in our timeline coming into play, here. But whatever, I guess they just let the country run itself for five years while they worked out of the westernmost tip of Honshu.
Eventually, they decided they were ready, and they headed down to Tsukushi—aka northern Kyushu. In preparing to do so, they were met by the chieftain, or Agatanushi, of a place called Oka. Oka was actually mentioned in the story of Iware Biko as one of the places he passed through on his way to conquer Yamato, but it is unclear just where it was—possibly in northern Kyushu, on the northwest side of the island. There is some thought that it is actually in the are of modern Onga district, at the mouth of the Onga river, in modern Fukuoka prefecture
Anyway, the name of the Agatanushi of Oka was straight out of a made-for-tv SyFy monster movie: Kumawani. For those who don’t know, that effectively means “Bear Shark”. Well, okay, it means “Bear-Sea Monster”, but come on, you can’t tell me that the title “Bear-Shark versus Sharktopus” wouldn’t fit right in with a bunch of other similar titles.
So, Chief Bear-Shark, aka Kumawani, had heard of Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko’s plans, and he decided to go and offer his services. So he had plucked a nice sakaki tree, with some 500 branches, and adorned it with royal symbols, and headed out to meet the royal boats at the bay of Saba. This seems a little out of the way, as Saba is in Suwo Province, which is east of where the sovereign was supposedly encamped if he was actually staying at Toyora Anato, so technically this seems to be back-tracking—but there are enough odd things going on here, I think we can add one more to the questions pile.
So there he was, Chief Bear-Shark, with a white-copper mirror, a 10-span sword, and yasaka jewels hanging from the lowest branches of the sakaki tree, set up on the bow of his ship. It’s like a Yule tree of soverignly symbolism. This was apparently the standard greeting from Kyushu chieftains, as Oho Tarashi Hiko’s men had been greeted in a similar fashion, and then, later, Itote, the ancestor of the chieftains—or perhaps just chieftain himself—of Ito, decorates his boat in a very similar fashion when he comes to greet the sovereign. I do wonder if this is because they were greeting the sovereign of Yamato, or if this was those particular chieftains demonstrating their own wealth and power through prestige items.
And then, Kumawani flexed hard: he basically offered the entirety of northwest Kyushu, from Anato—aka the Shimonoseki straits—all the way down to Nagoya, near Karatsu. I’m not sure if he actually had any authority to offer all of that, but it is quite the claim for him to be making, especially, since we later see someone who may have just been the chieftain of Ito, around modern Itoshima, also greet the sovereign and his fleet. Still, it isn’t like the Yamato forces were going to decline, and they decided that maybe they would head out with him, so they let him act as a pilot and he led them around to Oka Bay.
Now pulling in to Oka Bay was apparently a bit treacherous, and it sounds like you had to properly time your approach with the tides. This would make sense if this bay sat at the mouth of a river, and it may indeed have been difficult to make your way against the flow if you went at the wrong time, depending on what the conditions were like back then. Then again, it could just be that the water was too low for the draw of the boats. Of course, they don’t make mention of tides, but they do say that as they came around Cape Yamaga, the sovereigns boat came to a stop. Of course, they blamed it on a pair of kami—Oho kura Nushi and Tsubura Hime. So Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko appointed his steersman as a priest, or Hafuri, and they conducted prayers to appease the kami, which worked because they were able to then make their way into the harbor. Or, alternatively, the rituals kept them busy until the tide changed direction.
However, it seems that once again, Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko had traveled separately from his wife, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, who was a little bit behind him. And so as soon as Chief Bear-Shark finished piloting the royal canoe into the bay, he had to go back out and meet up with Okinaga Tarashi Hime. Unfortunately, the tide had changed again, it seems, because her boat wasn’t able to make any headway, either, except that here they explicitly mention that the tide was low, and that is why they couldn’t proceed forward.
Now Okinaga Tarashi Hime was not exactly a patient woman—when she saw something she wanted, she seems to have gone for it. And it wasn’t like there was TV, let alone Internet—she couldn’t just sit there and play the latest game on her iPhone while waiting for the tide to change. So Kumawani came up with a diversion. He set up two artificial pools, somehow, and he filled one with fish and one with various birds. How he accomplished this we are not told—maybe more of that birdseed and glue—but it seems to have held the Queen’s attention for long enough that the tides changed and they were able to make headway again.
Now that Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko finally made it down to Tsukushi, he set up a new palace—I think this is palace number four if you are keeping track. This was the palace of Kashii, and tradition places it in the area of modern Fukuoka, between the areas identified as Oka and Ito, in the old country of Na. The Nihon Shoki notes that he was there around 8 months, gathering his forces, before hosting a war council to figure out just what he was doing to about the Kumaso.
This is about the point where the Kojiki picks things up, following all the genealogical info, and it starts by adding a little detail about Okinaga Tarashi Hime, who apparently was something of a shamaness. Specifically it says that she was regularly getting possessed and often summoning kami, which is rather important for the next bit. The Kojiki indicates that there was a purposeful summoning, and provides interesting details. It involved Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko playing the koto—a type of zither—and Okinaga Tarashi HIme acting as the medium. And then there was one other participant: Takechi Sukune—remember him?—who served as the Sanipa, a type of interpreter for the words of the kami.
In the ritual, Okinaga Tarashi Hime made contact with a kami who told them to put the campaign with the Kumaso on hold—after all, they would still be there, later, and, let’s face it, the land in southern Kyushu really wasn’t all that great, anyway. Instead, there was a land of gold and silver, called Silla, just across the sea, and it could all be theirs if they just worshiped the kami who were coming to them, including offering up their ships and various rice paddies.
Well, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko was more than a little skeptical at all of this. He had climbed the nearby mountains at some point and when he looked out from there, he couldn’t see any evidence of another land—only the expanse of the ocean. He decided to stick with the land that he knew, thank you very much.
That was not exactly the answer that the kami wanted, and they literally told him that he could take his attitude and go you-know-where. Specifically they said that he could go “straight in one direction”, which was their way of saying that he could, well, go-off-and-die.
Takechi Sukune heard this, urged Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko to call out and to call upon the kami and ask for forgiveness, but it was no use. It was growing dark, and the attendants began lighting the torches, but as they did so, the koto went silent, and when the lights finally came up, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko was dead.
Or, that’s one way it goes. A less dramatic version says that he continued his campaign against the Kumaso, but was struck by an enemy arrow and eventually expired from his wounds.
Either way, his death was seen as a consequence of ignoring the words of the kami. Okinaga Tarashi Hime worked quickly with Takechi Sukune, and they contacted the kami again, and this time they promised to follow their instructions. The kami, appeased, said that it would be the child currently in the Queen’s womb who would rule over the land that they would conquer.
And so it looks like Okinaga Tarashi Hime had some planning to do, but before that, they had to do something about the sovereign’s death. Much like the Takeda would do centuries later, they decided it would be best to keep the royal death hidden for as long as possible, to prevent any kind of shenanigans, especially if they were going to be out of the country for a time. She colluded with Takechi Sukune and the other high officers to protect their secret. They also took Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko’s body back to the Toyora Anato Palace and had it interred in a temporary burial. This ceremony was done quietly, without the normal pomp and circumstance that would be expected upon a royal death. They specifically mention keeping the torches unlit so that people wouldn’t see what was going on.
And with that, they began preparations for the trip to the Korean peninsula. They enshrined the spirits of the kami who had delivered the messages at the top of the royal ship, and put wood ash in a gourd and made flat plates out of chopsticks. All of this was thrown into the ocean to ensure a safe voyage.
Thus ended the reign of Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, and the regency—or reign—of Okinaga Tarashi Hime had begun.
So there is a lot we could dig into in this. You can see the role, I hope, that Takechi Sukune is playing, throughout, even if the focus isn’t on him, directly. Then there are many parts to this story that feel like they are telling different versions of the same story and trying to mash them all up together. A lot of people don’t believe that anything like this happened at all, and we’ll analyze some of that as we really dig into the campaign on the Korean peninsula. There are a few quick things that I’d like to address, however.
First, is the timing. In our modified chronology, this is all some time in the mid-to-latter part of the 4th century, but the dates in the Nihon Shoki would put us just at the tail end of the 2nd century. That means we are about to crossover into the stories found in the Wei Chronicles, and that could already be causing some confusion. We know that the Chroniclers had access to the continental histories—they more or less quote them line for line at several points. So it is quite possible that some of the action and story that we are seeing has been organized to try to fit what is in those continental histories. After all, the whole thing with Oho Tarashi Hiko and Yamato Takeru would fit in nicely with the idea that there was some chaos before Himiko took the throne, and of course they make mention that she was something of a shamaness. I can’t help but wonder if multiple stories have been conflated.
Then there is the totally unbelievable idea that Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko didn’t know about Silla. After all, it was only a few reigns back that they had visitors coming from the continent, and we know that they had contact with the peninsula well before this point—how else were continental goods getting to the archipelago? Sure, you can’t see it from Kyushu, but I think our sovereign here is a little old to be feigning object impermanence.
There is even the fact that they seem to start at Tsunoga, and the Kehi palace—the very place where one of the Korean princes is said to have landed. This whole thing is rather bizarre.
And speaking of bizarre, let me address one last thing that you may run across in all of this: the theory that Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko and Okinaga Tarashi HIme aren’t Japanese at all. That’s right. There are some that claim that what we are really seeing are stories from the Korean peninsula, and the Buyeo nobles of Baekje that would eventually come in and, according to this theory, take over in Yamato and eventually spread through the whole archipelago. This will be even more pronounced when we get to the next sovereign—that one currently in Okinaga Tarashi Hime’s womb—but I’m not sure that we want to give that theory too much credence without more evidence to back it up. For now we will continue to look at what we have in front of us, even if it seems to make almost no sense at all, sometimes.
So, until next time, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or 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 through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

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

Episode 36: The Creep-Stalker Sovereign

March 1, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Koi, the famous colorful carp, are still raised and highly prized, even today.

So this episode we are still talking about the 12th sovereign, Ō Tarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake, aka Keikō Tennō. Only, rather than talk about his supposed military campaigns, we go into some of his more, shall we say, “romantic” episodes. And his behavior in these stories is what prompted the episode title because, well, “no means no” seems to have been a distant concept.

Episode 35: The Brave of Yamato, Part II

February 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Bronze statue of Yamato Takeru at Kenrokuen in Kanazawa. Built in the Meiji period to memorialize the soldiers who went down to Kyushu to suppress the rebellion of Saigo Takamori and the samurai who were angered by Meiji reforms that would strip them of many of their historical prerogatives. Centuries later, the story of Yamato Takeru continues to resonate.

RSS

Archives

Conjectural route for Yamato Takeru based on the evidence in the Chronicles. Click to enlarge. Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

This episode we finish up the journey of Yamato Takeru. Many of the people named in this story were previously discussed in Part I, so we won’t go back over them here. We will look at the back end of his journey, including a few of the places that he may have passed along the way. This starts somewhere up in “HItakami” and takes us back to the lands we a perhaps more familiar with.

Niihari - Niihari was one of the areas of Hitachi since before the Taika reforms of 645, according to that province’s Fudoki. It mentions the others as Ubaraki, Naka, Kuji, Taka, and Tsukuba. Only Niihari and Tsukuba are specifically mentioned by Yamato Takeru, however. The name Niihari (aka Nihihari or Nihibari) is found in the region around Mt. Tsukuba, today, but the description in the eight century Hitachi Fudoki seems to indicate the area just northwest of Mt. Tsukuba. It defines the western border as the Keno River—aka Kinugawa—and the eastern border as the mountains, at the southern end of which you’ll find Mt. Tsukuba. The northern border was the border of Kenu—aka Shimōtsuke no Kuni—and the southern border was an area known as Shirakabe.

Mt. Tsukuba - This location is much more well known. Mt. Tsukuba is actually one of the famous mountains of Japan—it is considered one of the 100 famous peaks, and even has particular stories that connect it to Mt. Fuji. You see, where as Mt. Fuji is the tallest peak in Japan, at 3,776m, with a gray, rocky peak, Mt. Tsukuba is just under 890m tall, with two peaks—871m and 877m, to be exact. In fact, it is one of the easier peaks to climb, if that is something you would like to do—or you can cheat and take the funicular up to the top.

In the Hitachi Fudoki, there is a story of kami that was roaming through the land. As night fell, he came upon Mt. Fuji, and asked the kami of Mt. Fuji if he could take shelter there for the night. The kami of Mt. Fuji refused, however, because they were observing a period of abstinence for the new crops, and during that time they could not allow anyone to enter. The wander kami was upset at such a lack of hospitality, and so cursed Mt. Fuji to be out of reach, and for snow to fall on its peak in any season, and for the mountaintop to be barren.

This kami then came to Tsukuba in Hitachi. There, he also asked for shelter, and the kami of Mt. Tsukuba replied that even though they, too, were observing a period of abstinence, they would make an exception. And so the wandering kami blessed Mt. Tsukuba, and ever since the peak has been accessible and people have regularly gathered to sing and celebrate.

Perhaps unsurprisingly there is a shrine at the base of the mountain, and that shrine has a very unique set of guardian statues out in front: Toyoki Iribiko and Yamato Takeru. Toyoki Iribiko, you may recall, was the son of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennō, and he was one of two sons who were candidates for eventually inheriting the throne. However, due to his dream, which saw him at the top of Mt. Miwa swinging sword and spear to the east, he was sent out to Kenu, and there is a tradition that says he visited Mt. Tsukuba as well.

Ashigara Pass - This is the pass through the mountains between the ancient countries of Suruga and Sagami—now the border between Shizuoka and Kanagawa prefectures. There area of Ashigara lies just north of the beautiful hot spring resort town of Hakone, and to the east of the pass lies the formidable and iconic Mt. Fuji. As with many places in Japan, the contours of the land have created their own natural pathways that people have been using for centuries, and even today there are roads that wind through the pass from one side to the other. That said, if the area is remembered for anything other than the views of Mt. Fuji, it is probably not our protagonist, Yamato Takeru. Rather it is likely a more local figure, Sakata no Kintoki, a warrior from the Heian era, more popularly known as Kintarō. Of course, Kintarō is said to be his name when he was a young boy, and you may have seen him depicted in a large, one-piece outfit of a red fundoshi, or loincloth, and bib, usually with the character for “KIN” 「金」 on it in gold and carrying an axe. Of course, this is all a much later folk hero, but his connection to the region is much stronger.

View of Mt. Fuji from a mountain on the northern edge of modern Kōfu City

Sakaori - Today, the area of Sakaori is simply a part of the larger area of modern Kōfu city, the old capital of the ancient country of Kai. This area, north of Mt. Fuji, is extremely mountainous. While no doubt daunting in ancient times, especially before roads and maps were more common, the mountains also provided a kind of isolation and security. The sengoku warlord, Takeda Shingen, no doubt counted on the security those mountains provided when he refused to build a castle like other daimyō did at that tumultuous time. It is no doubt easy to “make men your castle, men your walls, men your moats” when you live in a remote and easily defensible location.

Of course, it wasn’t just the Takeda who found it hospitable. The plain on which Kōfu city sits has been inhabited since the Jōmon times. Though we don’t know a lot about who was there when Yamato Takeru supposedly stopped at the palace of Sakaori and traded poems with the fire-keeper there, it was no doubt doing well for itself.

Usui Tōge and the Japan Alps - Usui Pass was the ancient pass to the country or region of Shinano, an area in the middle of the mountainous region of central Honshū. The ranges here are known as the “Japan Alps”, although technically they are divided into three groups of mountain ranges. It wasn’t until relatively modern times that there was anything like a complete map of all of the various rivers and valleys throughout this region. Those who wandered off the well-worn trails could be lost in the mountains, and so it is no wonder that living off the land and being able to find one’s way through successfully was considered such a skill.

A jigokudani, or Hell Valley, at Tateyama, one of the taller peaks in the Japanese alps.

The mountains here are still volcanically active, and there are numerous hot springs as well as the jigoku dani. These are areas, often depressions in the landscape, where volcanic gasses spill out of crevices in the earth. While they may be the same forces that heat the natural hot springs across Japan, those poisonous vapors, which are often heavier than air, can gather in depressions, and may kill off much of the plant and animal life nearby. And while the steam rising up from the vents may be a visible indication, especially in the winter, as it cools, the gasses themselves are invisible to the naked eye, and one may not even know that they are in danger until it is too late. There may be a sulfurous, or “rotten egg”, smell, but there could also be pockets of high concentrations of carbon dioxide gas. While naturally occurring, too much carbon dioxide can cause a person to quickly asphyxiate in higher concentrations. Today we are well aware of the dangers, and most jigoku dani have signs, warning tourists of the dangers, but back in ancient times there were no signs to warn travelers of the dangers.

Owari - We touched on Owari on the trip out, and I want to note it again, because it is here that Yamato Takeru leaves the sword Kusanagi. This is significant, because this is also the home of Atsuta Jingū, the shrine that is said to house the sacred blade, even today.

The haiden, or prayer hall, of Atsuta Jingū in 2006. Many of the buildings are now roofed in bronze, rather than the more traditional thatch. This was considered more economical, especially during WWII. The shrine is in Nagoya, which was a target… — The haiden, or prayer hall, of Atsuta Jingū in 2006. Many of the buildings are now roofed in bronze, rather than the more traditional thatch. This was considered more economical, especially during WWII. The shrine is in Nagoya, which was a target of the allies, and many of the shrines buildings were destroyed and rebuilt in 1955.

It is unclear just what the sword looks like, though there are conjectural drawings. This is explained by its sacred nature—it is kept at the shrine except when it is needed for the enthronement ceremony, at which time the box it is kept in is brought out—but that is a rare event. I’m not even sure if the emperor looks at the sword, or if it is enough that the boxes are there. In fact, during some periods in history, when the regalia were split between competing lines, there were enthronements that took place with only the empty boxes, which effectively stood in for the objects themselves.

It is likely a straight blade, sharpened on both edges. Of course, due to its nature, it is highly doubtful that anyone will be closely examining the sword any time soon to confirm its age or even if it is a copy of a sword from a particular era. For most it is enough that it exists.

Mt. Ibuki - Situated between the countries of Mino and Ōmi, now the border of modern Gifu and Shiga Prefectures, Mt. Ibuki overlooks the natural pass between these two areas. At the eastern foot of the mountain is the site of the famous battle of Sekigahara, which would be a decisive victory for Tokugawa Ieyasu as he brought the country under his rule, but for Yamato Takeru, this was anything but a success.

Given ts location between the two areas, one is left to wonder if there isn’t another meaning. Perhaps Yamato Takeru—or the warrior whose story this part of the legend is modeled on, was attempting to cross the pass into Ōmi, only to find himself defeated and turned back. Whatever the real story, this is clearly where Yamato Takeru’s fortunes take a turn for the worse.

Isame - Also “Wisame” in the old phonology. This is said to be the location of the clear spring where Yamato Takeru took a rest and his mind was cleared. Of course, the location identified today seems a bit out of the way from Ibuki proper, but so be it. Other locations mentioned in the Chronicles would seem to be in Mino, Owari, and down to Ise.

Nobono Plain - This is as far as our hero got and, spoiler alert, where he is said to have perished, and where his kofun is said to have been built. While it is unlikely that the person buried here is actually the person who did all the things that are claimed in the Chronicles, he was probably someone of import. And, his kofun was late enough that it actually had true haniwa, the cylindrical clay stands that would be placed over most kofun from the 4th century onward.

Most people, when they hear about haniwa, are thinking about the later statues of houses, people, boats and other such things that give us such a great insight into the life of people in the later kofun period. However, early on, these were still relatively simple, and even as the shapes began to flourish the cylindrical haniwa continued to be used, often as the stands for these figured clay statues.

Examples of the round clay cylinders, from which haniwa get their names, at the Tokyo National Museum.

The earliest decorations, as we’ve noted, appear to have been simple jar stands, with offering jars that sat on top. These cylindrical stands may have held a similar purpose, but their shape allowed them to be sunk into the ground, and the pots and vessels placed on top could be shaped to slot into their open mouths. Over time, those vessels took on different shapes, including umbrellas, houses, etc. Still, it seems it took some time before the figures we often think of were prevalent. Even then, there were regional differences and styles.

And, of course, there is the problem of survivorship bias, as many haniwa are not found intact, but rather are simply scattered sherds of broken pottery. Much like paleontologists working from scraps of bone, archaeologists may only have these broken pieces to try to compare to others and hopefully figure out what type of haniwa were present when a kofun was built. This, in turn, can give us valuable insights into when the kofun was built as well as what kinds of regional influences may have been present as well. All this helps build a better understanding of what was actually going on outside of the legendary stories of the royal line.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Naumann, Nelly (1992). ‘The “Kusanagi” Sword’. Nenrin-Jahresringe: Festgabe für Hans A. Dettmer. Ed. Klaus Müller. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1992. [158]–170. https://freidok.uni-freiburg.de/fedora/objects/freidok:4635/datastreams/FILE1/content
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 34: The Brave of Yamato, Part I

February 1, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Prince Yamato Takeru with the royal sword, Kusanagi, on the burning plain, by the late Edo period artist, Utagawa Kuniyoshi. The fanciful depiction, with a mixture of Chinese and Japanese characteristics, is far from an accurate portrayal of the ti… — Prince Yamato Takeru with the royal sword, Kusanagi, on the burning plain, by the late Edo period artist, Utagawa Kuniyoshi. The fanciful depiction, with a mixture of Chinese and Japanese characteristics, is far from an accurate portrayal of the times, and yet fits perfectly with the legendary stories set in the early Chronicles.

RSS

Archives

Prince Yamato Takeru, sometimes called Yamatodake, is perhaps one of the most famous characters in the Chronicles, and almost certainly not a real figure. At the very least not a single figure—he may be a conglomeration of various individuals and the stories of their feats. And yet that hardly matters as his legend is enough.

Before we get into everything, though, a quick language lesson. Yamato Takeru’s name is given as O’usu, meaning “little mortar”. His twin brother is Ō’usu, meaning big mortar. Of course, to most English speakers—and even many Japanese—the difference between these two names, today, is minimal. Originally, they were likely something like Wo’usu and Opo’usu, which at least provides greater distinction, but in modern Japanese it is just the difference of a short “o” sound v. a long “o” sound—that is long as in how long you hold the vowel, not in its actual sound. A short “o” is just like it seems, but a long “o” is like saying “o” twice, but without any stops in between. This works in Japanese because it works on a morae system, where each sound takes rouhgly the same amount of “time” to say, whereas English breaks on syllables, instead. For more on how this looks, you can look into Japanese On, or Onji, used to count sounds for Japanese poetry.

Now this episode we cover roughly three parts of Yamato Takeru’s life: His early childhood and the admonition of his brother, his campaign in the west, against the Kumaso and his return trip, and then his trip out east to subdue the Emishi. Of these, I’ll provide a map of the eastern campaign—the campaign west does not have as many details, and those we have are more contradictory.

Dramatis Personae

Ōtarashi Hiko - Also known as Keikō Tennō. He is the sovereign, and Yamato Takeru’s father. In the Kojiki, he is a passive figure, ruling from Yamato and sending Yamato Takeru out to fight and conquer the land. In the Nihon Shoki he is much more active, but not, it seems, in the stories about Yamato Takeru, himself. In many ways, there is little to concretely connect the lives of Yamato Takeru and Ōtarashi Hiko beyond the assertion that they are father and son. There is even information that would seem to indicate that Ōtarashi Hiko married Yamato Takeru’s great-granddaughter. I mean, sure, we know that they liked to keep it in the family, but that seems more than a little ridiculous. This is furthered by the fact that Yamato Takeru is often referred to with words that seem to otherwise be reserved for a sovereign, as are his wives. Finally, there is the fact that Chūai Tennō, aka Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, the 14th sovereign, was Yamato Takeru’s son, and not descended from Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka Seimu Tennō, the 13th sovereign. But we’ll talk more about that, later.

A Meiji era depiction of a young Yamato Takeru, dressed as a woman and infiltrating the celebration of the Kumaso Braves. A Meiji era print by the artist Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892).

Prince O’usu, aka Yamato Takeru - The “Little Mortar” prince, also named Yamato no Oguna. Our main protagonist. He is shown to have a special relationship with Yamato Hime, of Ise Shrine, and he defeats his enemies often with trickery and deceit as much as his raw strength. He is shown as arrogant and prideful, even defeating various deities, not just the local human chieftains. His feats are often given with supernatural and epic detail, while at the same time eschewing many of the more mundane details that would help us to better place the action in context. This is part of what makes his tale seem so fanciful, even in the midst of this period of oral history.

The appellation “Takeru”, sometimes rendered simply as “Take”, is found in many places throughout the chronicles, even in the names of various sovereigns. The character used for this is 「武」, which is also pronounced “BU” and means “martial”, as in the words “bugei” or “budō” (martial arts). We see it in the forms of “Kumaso Takeru” and “Izumo Takeru”, indicating that it was much more of a title, indicating a strong warrior, and not simply a name.

Prince Ō’usu - Yamato Takeru’s twin brother. He was probably the second one out of the womb, thus gaining the term “Ō”, or “Big” in his name vice Yamato Takeru’s “O”, or “Little”. Second out meant he was “higher” in the womb, according to the ancient theories, and thus he would have been considered the senior prince.

He was disobedient, and when he was sent to go bring back the two most beautiful women of Mino for his father he tried to swap them out, and keep them for himself. Later, he refused to come to inner, which was a ceremonial slap in the face to his father. The Kojiki claims that he was killed by Yamato Takeru, ambushed in a privy, but in the Nihon Shoki he was sent t o govern Mino, likely as punishment for his cowardice when he would not take his troops to subdue the East.

Ihoki Iribiko - Another of Ōtarashi Hiko’s children. Very little is said about him other than the fact that he, along with Waka Tarashi HIko and Yamato Takeru, was one of the three sons considered as potential heirs to the throne.

Waka Tarashi HIko - Also known as Seimu Tennō, we’ll talk more about him in the future. Of the three potential heirs, he was the one who would go forward and ascend the throne. It seems odd, then, that we hear of his brother’s accomplishments, not his own.

Yamato Hime - You should remember Yamato Hime from the time of Ikume Iribiko, the previous sovereign. She is credited with the founding of Ise Shrine. Of course, there are some questions about that, and in particular I wonder if this is actually supposed to be the same person. Nihon Shoki dates, which we’ve already discussed are clearly unreliably, well they provide dates that would put Yamato Hime well past her hundredth year by the time she’s helping Yamato Takeru. Again, it is possible that her name is actually a title of some sort, and that there were various women known as “Yamato Hime” who were head of Ise Shrine. Or she could be an insert character to explain Ise Shrine’s founding.

Kumaso Takeru - The Brave(s) of Kumaso. Also known as Kawakami no Takeru. The Kojiki refers to an elder and younger, while the Nihon Shoki makes it seem as though it is just one. The basics of the story remain the same, however.

Ya Nushi Oshio-dake Ogoro - A minor character in our narrative. He is sent down to Ki to perform the rituals that the sovereign would otherwise have done—though it is unclear to me if he got much beyond the southern Nara Basin. More interesting is that his son, Takechi Sukune, seems to be a person of some importance in the court.

Takechi Sukune - The son of Ya Nushi Oshio-dake Ogoro. “Sukune” is a title of significant rank in the court, and this seems to be further emphasized by his relationship with Waka Tarashi Hiko when they both go on “guard” for the court during a weeklong banquet. He is also the one to first go out to the north and the east. It makes me wonder if some of the stories about Yamato Takeru’s campaign weren’t originally part of a story about Takechi Sukune. It is interesting, but not telling, that the characters used for his name, Takechi, are “武内“ (Brave + Inside). That first character is the same as “Takeru”, but then, it is the same character found in so many other names.

Misuki Tomo Mimi Take Hiko - (御友耳建日子) Only mentioned in the Kojiki, and just briefly, in regards to the wooden spear and told to accompany Yamato Takeru on his eastern expedition. He is mentioned as an ancestor of the Kibi no Omi, making me wonder if this might not be another name for Kibi no Take Hiko, another companion of Yamato Takeru, mentioned in the Nihon Shoki.

Ōtomo no Take Hi no Muraji - Another one of the companions of Yamato Takeru. There is little more about him.

Nanatsukahagi - Ancestor of the Kume no Atahe who is said to have traveled with Yamato Takeru everywhere he went, even up to the bitter end.

Susano’o - Broth of Amaterasu, who slayed the eight headed serpent, Yamata no Orochi, and found the sword Ame no Murakumo, later known as Kusanagi.

Miyazu Hime - Ancestor of the Kuni no Miyatsuko of Owari and the fiancée of Yamato Takeru. I can’t help but wonder if she was the daughter of or the actual chieftain of Owari, or at least some part of it, but either way it would seem to speak to more marriage politics. It is also telling that the sword, Kusanagi, would eventually be deposited and kept at Atsuta Shrine, where it (or a copy) is said to be kept event to this day. Atsuta Shrine is near the harbor of modern Nagoya city.

Oto-Tachibana Hime - Yamato Takeru’s “queen” who throws herself into the waters to calm them down at the mouth of Tokyo Bay. Her sudden appearance suggests that she may be a later addition to the stories, or at the very least out of place. This could also be one of those areas where different stories are being merged together. There is another individual, Ō-Tachibana Hime (or, originally, “Opo-Tatibana-pime”), mentioned in the Hitachi Fudoki as Yamato Takeru’s wife. It is said that she came out to see him while he was on campaign. Of course, that was after the incident at Tokyo Bay, so the timeline is still a bit confused.

Emishi - （蝦夷）Often “Yemishi” prior to the modern Japanese pronunciation. These are the “barbarians” in the northeast. It is unclear if, at this time, they were a single ethnic group. It is clear in later centuries that they were pretty much anyone outside of the Yamato court’s control. Of course, in the early 4th century, pretty much everyone was “outside” the Yamato court’s control. It is quite likely that the term “Emishi” is an anachronism, contemporary to the 8th century, but not the 4th.

Locations

We could go through the Western Campaign against the Kumaso, but there aren’t many details, as I mentioned. There is at least one that we should probably go over though:

Ana Umi - This is the “Sea” that would have made Kojima a real island, back in the day. If you take a look at the area between Kurashiki and Minami Ward (Minami-Ku) you can see how much of that area would have been under water with just slightly higher sea levels (or if the land still wasn’t quite as silted up as it became). As noted in the podcast this is much like the way “Kawachi Bay” silted up over in the area of modern Ōsaka.

The Eastern Campaign

The rest of these will be part of the Eastern Campaign. I put together a general map of Yamato Takeru’s potential route. This episode we will follow the blue route. The assumption here is, of course, largely land based until Tokyo Bay, but it could just as easily have been that the initial troop movements would have been using ships, hugging the coastline. Assuming Miyazu Hime’s home was somewhere near Atsuta Shrine, that would have been on or near the shore, as is Yaizu.

Yamato/Miwa - We should have a good idea of where this is at this point.

Ise Grand Shrine - The sight of the Ise Shrine, where Yamato Takeru gets the sword from Yamato Hime

Owari (Palace of Miyazu Hime) - Yamato Takeru stops at Owari—likely modern Nagoya city. Here is where Yamato Takeru pledges he will marry Miyazu Hime.

Azuma -（東国）Literally the “Eastern Country”, this is the name for the area that we generally think of as the Kantō—primarily the regions around modern Tōkyō, though there wasn’t a firm border and it was more of a general description than a specific country.

Yaizu - （焼津） Known in the Chronciles as Yaketsu. This is thought to be the same place. This is where Yamato Takeru destroyed those who had tried to set the field on fire around him. This is also where the sword, Kusanagi, gets its name.

Hashirimizu - （走水）On the peninsula here you can still visit Hashirimizu Beach. “Hashirimizu” literally means “running water” refers to the fast running water that made the crossing so dangerous.

Awa Harbor - This seems to be the general name for the Tōkyō Bay.

Awa - （安房国）This is the tip of the Bōsō (房総) Peninsula. The peninsula is actually so-named because it combines the name of Awa (安房) and Fusa (総).

Fusa - （総国）This is the country that would later become the provinces of Shimōsa（下総）and Kazusa（上総）—literally “lower” and “upper” Fusa.

Tama no Ura -（玉之浦）Along with Ashi no Ura, it defines a large area of shoreline on the Pacific coast between Shimōsa, up to Kazusa.

Take no Minato -（竹水門）The harbor (“water gate”) where Yamato Takeru encountered the Emishi. Thought to be up somewhere in Tōhoku.

Hitakami -（日高見国）Probably somewhere in Tōhoku, but it is unclear exactly where. It is named as a country, but it doesn’t seem to have been directly preserved in any of the later province names. Later, a place in Hokkaidō would be named “Hidaka” (日高) in memory of this country, but there is no historical connection and the exact location is still a mystery.

We’ll hit the rest of the eastern campaign next episode, but for now, this is it. Thank you for reading and I hope that this has been informative.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 33: Keiko's Kumaso Campaign

January 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

19th century drawing of the 12th sovereign, known to us as Keikō Tennō.

RSS

Archives

This episode we start to wind down the 3rd Century and begin our trip into the 4th with Keiko—aka Ōtarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake no Mikoto. Most of our information on this sovereign actually comes from sources outside of the Kojiki, which has only a passing entry for this sovereign, focusing instead on the romantic hero, Yamato Takeru. Our other sources, though, have a fair amount to go by, though even then we are still working off of mostly what we can only assume is oral tradition.

Cllick to enlarge. Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

Map of the Campaign

This map gives a rough idea of the possible route described in the Chronicles, assuming placenames are correct. It is not exact, and the borders are based on later province boundaries, which may not match up exactly with the territories of the ancient countries, which may have been more like collections of city-states without well-defined borders as we might think of them. In addition, it is unclear if there was any central authority or if it was simply a collection of alliances—as noted, there is no good evidence for any truly hierarchical relationships at this stage. That said, the areas of Tsukushi and Toyo, including Ōita, were areas that showed political activity in the Yayoi and into the Kofun period. Furthermore, at the Saitobaru Kofun Group (“7” on the map), we do have evidence of kofun building from at least the 3rd century. So it fits with our timeline, and there may even be some evidence of fighting at some of the locations mentioned, though it is hard to exactly pinpoint when, let alone whether or not it was connected by an invading force from Yamato.

Armor and Weapons of the Early 4th Century

Since we are talking about military engagements, it is good to get an idea of the weapons and armor of this time. It seems clear that there were iron swords of various types available, but iron armor seems new. There may have been some iron armor sent in the 3rd century with requests to the Wei and Jin courts, but if so, I’m not sure that it has been verified. Of the armor we do have, it seems to date to the early 4th century. It is often called a tankō (短甲), though that is not how it would have been referred to at the time, and simply means “short armor”. Some have challenged this term, and instead refer to it simply as an iron cuirass of vertical plates. These early body armors were likely held on with straps at the shoulders and otherwise secured at the hips. It is not an uncommon shape for torso protection across the world, and a similar design is seen in different cultures at different times.

Prior to this, we have only limited armor styles, primarily made out of organic material—in this case wood. Wood, even lacquered, is not going to last long in acidic soil, and so it is unsurprising that so little has survived. These pieces, centuries apart and quite different, don’t give us enough to really know what was going on with armor development, other than the briefest glimpse. Did these wooden armors continue, dwindling as iron armors came into use? Or was there something else entirely? Functionally, the 2nd century armor seems similar to the 4th century example, and it would not be hard to imagine armors of wooden vertical slats similar to the iron construction, or even more elaborate wooden armors, similar to later iron models. Unfortunately, unless we find more examples, it will be hard to say for certain.

Iron Armor of Vertical Plates

Early 4th century armor, similar to those found in Gaya. Photo taken by author at the Tokyo National Museum.

Elaborate Wooden Armor

2nd century wooden armor. In shape it shares many characteristics with later iron armors, but it is much more elaborate and includes two large “wings” on the back. Photo by author at the National Museum of Japanese History.

Armor of wooden plates

This armor comes from fragments from the 3rd C BCE. It is a simple set of wooden plates laced together. It is unclear how long this kind of armor continued to be in use, but it seems a far cry from the solid armors of later. Photo by author at the National Museum of Japanese History in Sakura.

Dramatis Personae

Here we will talk about some of the figures in the story so you can try to keep them straight.

Ōtarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake no Mikoto - The 12th sovereign of Yamato, son of Ikume Iribiko. He is our main protagonist in this campaign. Aka Keikō Tennō

Take Morogi - One of Ōtarashi Hiko’s advanced scouts, sent ahead to see what there was in the land. He came up with the plan to defeat the brigands in Toyo.

Kamuhashi Hime - Recognized in the Chronicles as the ruler of her country, which would appear to be Toyo. She presents herself with all the trappings of a sovereign, just like Yamato—the sword, the mirror, and the magatama, all hung up in the branches she affixed to the front of her boat. She told the Yamato forces about the brigands in her area. Her home was at a place called Nagao—possibly Yukuhashi City.

Hanatari, Mimitari, Asahagi, and Tsuchiori-iori - The four brigand leaders of Toyo. They each lived at the headwaters (kawakami) of different areas: Usa, Mike, Takawa, and Midorino. Of those, Usa, is perhaps the most prominent, being the home of Usa Shrine. They are accused of taking on “unauthorized titles” and giving out chieftainships to their family members.

Haya tsu Hime - The Lady of Haya. She is not accorded the same status as Kamuhashi Hime, but seems to function in a similar role. Her home is Hayami, in “Ōgita”, which was later “Ōita”. She tells the Yamato forces about the Tsuchigumo up in the hills of Negino.

Ao and Shiro - Literally “Blue” and “White”, these are the names of two of the Tsuchigumo who live with their followers in caves in the country of Ōita.

Uchizaru, Yata, and Kunimaro - The three Tsuchigumo that live around Mt. Negi and Negi moor (Negino), in the western areas of modern Ōita Prefecture. After Yata is killed, Uchizaru and his forces commit suicide rather than let themselves be killed by the Yamato forces.

Atsu Kaya and Sa Kaya - The two leaders of the Kumaso. Sometimes called the Kumaso Takeru, or Kumaso Braves.

Ichifu Kaya and Ichi Kaya - Two daughters of one of the Kumaso leaders. Ichifu Kaya eventually betrays her father and he is killed. In the end, she, herself, is put to death for this unfilial act. Ichi Kaya goes off to marry the Kuni no Miyatsuko of Ki no Kuni.

Izumi Hime - Lord of the country of Murokata. This is thought to be there area around Kirishima, though I would note there is also an “Izumi” on the shores of the Yatsushiro Sea. She meets the Yamato forces north of Hinamori Peak, an area known today as Kobayashi.

Hinamori the Elder and Hinamori the Younger - Two members of Ōtarashi Hiko’s retinue. It is unclear if they are from Yamato or if they were local lords in the area of Hinamori, modern Kobayashi. They don’t show up except in that part of the narrative.

Kuma tsu Hiko the Elder and Kuma tsu Hiko the Younger - A pair of “princes” of “Kuma” It is not entirely clear if they are considered Kumaso—their names are more titles than name, and little can really be gleaned form jsut what is in the chronicles

Tsudzura - A Tsuchigumo in the land of Tamakina, in Hi no Kuni—modern Tamana city. He was killed by the Yamato soldiers.

Kumaso - A group of people living in Southern Kyūshū—possibly throughout the entire island. Believed to possibly be two groups, the Kuma and the So. “Kuma” is still a common element in placenames in southern Kyūshū, including Kumamoto Prefecture. All DNA and linguistic evidence points to them being a Wa people distinct from, but similar too, the people in Yamato.

Hayato - Another group of people living in Southern Kyūshū, similar but distinct from the Kumaso—maybe. At least in the later centuries they are treated as distinct.

Tsuchigumo - It is unclear exactly what is meant by this term, other than a people outside of Yamato without an otherwise clean designation. It is used for groups in Yamato, in Kyūshū, as well as over in the Kantō and Tōhoku regions. Some have suggested they were remnants of Jōmon populations still living in the islands, but there is no evidence of that, and they could easily be Wa people who have adapted to a different sytle of life, living more in caves and pit dwellings than the later Yayoi and early Kofun Wa people.

Locations of Interest

Suwo/Suō (周防国) - An old country/province on the Seto Inland Sea coast, just east of Nagato. Today it is part of eastern Yamaguchi Prefecture. The name persists in the name of Hōfu City (防府市), which seems to indicate the old government seat of Suō, near the Saba River. Indeed, there is evidence of the old provincial capital and numerous kofun in the area.

Toyo (豊国) - This country likely spanned across much of modern Ōita Prefecture and parts of eastern Fukuoka prefecture, covering the northeast quadrant of Kyūshū. It was later broken up into Front and Back Toyo: Buzen (豊前) and Bungo (豊後).

Himuka/Hyūga (日向国) - The ancient country (and later, province) that covered much of modern Miyazaki Prefecture. This area played a special part in the early foundation myths of the Yamato Royal line, and there are many places connected to the early stories of Yamato and the Heavenly Rock Cave found in this area, today.

Murokata (諸縣) - Apparently a district, country, or area in the middle of Himuka, today it signifies a district from modern Kirishima, north to the border of Miyazaki Prefecture.

Hi (肥国) - The Nihon Shoki says that his was named the “Fire Country” and relates numerous fire-related phenomena. It is interesting, however, that the word for fire, “Hi” seems to be the same as the word for sun, “Hi”, and I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some connection between the two. The country of Hi would eventually be broken up into Hizen (肥前) and Higo (肥後).

Tsukushi (筑紫国) - Tsukushi is the name sometimes used to refer to the entire island of Kyūshū, in which case it is more properly “Tsukushi-no-shima”, and sometimes it is used to refer to the areas of modern Fukuoka and Saga as “Tsukushi-no-kuni”. This is the area where much of the later administration of the remote provinces of the island would take place, housed at the Dazaifu, a second capital for overseeing the frontier and the trade with the mainland. That was still some years out, however. For our purposes, we will simply skirt the southern and eastern edge of the country. Later it would be split up in Chikuzen (筑前) and Chikugo (筑後).

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 33: Keiko’s Kumaso Campaign.
This episode, we are moving on to the third of what we can maybe refer to as the Miwa sovereigns: Mimaki Iribiko, Ikume Iribiko, and now Oho-Tarashi Hiko, known today as Keikou Tennou. Name-wise, you can see some patterns, because the next three will be Waka-Tarashi Hiko, Tarashi-Nakatsu Hiko, and Okinaga Tarashi Hime. There seems to be some debate over the exact meaning of “Tarashi”, but it does appear to mark a hereditary lineage—whether that lineage was actual or massaged by the various Chroniclers.
The Nihon Shoki opens this reign in the year 71 and ends it around the year 130, with the sovereign reigning some 60 years. More likely, though, this all takes place some time in the late 3rd century and early 4th, but we won’t get any events we can check against other records for at least another several reigns, so we are still in that “Dark” period of Japanese history, where our only source of guiding light is the Chronicles and archaeology.
What we do read at this time gives us an idea, though, that the country still wasn’t settled under any one particular ruler. In fact, Oho Tarashi’s reign would be dominated by his wars both in Kyushu and in the Kanto and up to the Tohoku regions, indicating that they were still quite independent of Yamato, though of course that isn’t quite how it comes across in the Chronicles. These wars gained him some notoriety, as events of his reign are recalled not just in the official histories, but also in the Fudoki, the local gazetteers that were ordered in the 8th century, where Oho Tarashi is mentioned even more than his predecessors. I find this telling, as these documents often contain tidbits that aren’t necessarily found elsewhere in the records. That could be a red flag—additions biased towards local politics and tradition—or it could be indications that they had access to other records, stories, etc. We’ll be adding the stories to the mix as it makes sense and hopefully that will help.
One more curious note before we dive into everything—we really have two major stories of conquest. In the Nihon Shoki we get both the conquests of Oho Tarashi Hiko, but also of his son—one of the more famous princes in the Chronicles, Wo’usu no Mikoto, more commonly known as Yamatodake or Yamato Takeru, the Brave of Yamato. We’ll devote the entire next episode to Yamato Takeru, but in summary, he in many ways defined the early cultural imaginary of the warrior. He was strong and merciless and intelligent. His stratagems were hardly what one would consider orthodox, even in later times, but one could not refute the results. And, like Icarus, he warns us against pride, and is the first in a long line of tragic heroes lionized throughout Japanese history. In fact, his story is so powerful, that in the Kojiki it overshadows almost everything else about this period. Truly, the authors of the Kojiki would have us believe that this should have been the reign of Yamato Takeru, not Oho Tarashi, for he was the true actor. Today, we are left with questions, chief among them: Did Yamato Takeru even exist, and if so, can we really attribute all of these accounts to him? Was he perhaps an aggregate of various stories, where the hero is simply given as a “Brave of Yamato”? Or is there something else going on? We’ll take a look at this as we examine this period, but also try to better understand what it means for our study of history.
But for now, in this episode, let’s look at the other conquest story and the life of sovereign #12, Oho Tarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake no Mikoto, aka Keikou Tennou. This account will mostly be from the Nihon Shoki, with some tidbits from the Fudoki and others as appropriate.
We already know something of Oho Tarashi Hiko’s origin story. He was a son of Ikume Iribiko and Hibasu Hime, Ikume’s wife after the tragic affair with Saho Hime and her brother. Interestingly, Homutsu Wake, Saho Hime’s son who we discussed previously, seems to have not been even considered for the position of Crown Prince—perhaps for his lack of speaking ability and implied mental immaturity, but it is never even raised. Rather it is Oho Tarashi Hiko and his brother, Inishiki Hiko, who seem to be offered the chance to take on the royal dignity of Yamato, and it is only Oho Tarashi Hiko that takes it.
Of course, we could look at this in a slightly different light. Given what we know of paired rulers, where one was responsible for the spiritual and the other seems to have been responsible for the martial, could that have been happening here? After all, Inishiki *was* given mastery of Isonokami shrine, while Oho Tarashi Hiko, well… we’ll get to that.

Remember, Yamato may have ties to Izumo, Kibi, and Koshi, but their rule is far from absolute. There are apparently others claiming that they are the true kings of the Wa, and possibly even keeping the Seto Inland Sea trade to themselves, controlling the straits of Shimonoseki. Of course, the Chronicles only take the faintest nod at such disunity, indicating only that there were still those who resisted the royal authority, and often acting as if the Yamato kings were already the natural rulers of the entire archipelago by divine right. Therefore, if any opposed them, it was as if they were opposing the natural order of things. The royal forces weren’t sent out to “conquer” land, according to the royal narrative—how could they be? That would imply that the land did not already belong to Yamato, regardless of what the people living on it might have to say about that. This despite the fact that they’ve already acknowledged that there were other Divine Descendants in the world, who would theoretically have had just as strong a celestial claim to rule as the descendants of Ninigi no Mikoto
Unfortunately, we only have one lineage that we are given in any detail, so we’ll have to see what we can see of the rest of the archipelago, even if just through that limited frame.
So Oho Tarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake, son of Ikume Iribiko, was promised the Royal Dignity by his father, but he didn’t just get the throne right away. In fact, it was some time after that before he was finally made Crown Prince, which was his position until his father passed away. It seems there wasn’t really much of a tradition of abdication at this point, something that we will see later on, though presumably he had already been working in the court of his father in one way or another, working to help run the fledgling state.
When he did take the throne there is an interesting note in the Nihon Shoki—they say that there was “kaigen”, or in the words of Aston, “the chronological epoch was altered accordingly.” Of course, for many students of Japanese history, this is a familiar tradition—in fact, we only recently entered the Reiwa era with the enthronement of the most recent emperor. And it is the case that our early dates are all relative to the reigning sovereign, though typically it is expressed as a given year in the reign of the prince of such-and-such palace—or at least that is what we dsee in the Fudoki and the Kujiki.
The era names, or “Nengo” that really define later Japanese date systems, won’t come about for another four and a half centuries—around 645, and the next time we see this term, “kaigen”, isn’t until the entry for 650, when the Hakuchi era replaces “Taika” during the reign of Kotoku.
I assume this is just another example of the 8th century chroniclers using terms common to their own time to describe era transitions in the past.
But why am I going on about obscure references about regnal dates in an era that was probably all oral history, anyway? Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?
And by good stuff, I mean the sex and fighting, right?
Well, this episode that will mean mostly fighting—though there is some sex as well. Honestly, there is enough to do an entire episode just on Oho Tarashi’s marriage conquests - we have at least 14 different women with whom he had children scattered across the various records, and supposedly something like 80 kids. There is just a lot to get through with Kyushu alone. But for right now we will focus on the fighting part of things.
After sealing a possible marriage with the people of Owari, around modern day Nagoya, Oho Tarashi came back to Yamato and set up a new palace at Makimuku, the same region as his predecessors. No sooner had he done so, however, but word came in that the Kumaso, over in Kyushu, had rebelled.
So we’ve talked about one group of people down in Kyushu, the Hayato, who were said to be descended from the elder brother of Hiko Hohodemi—see episode 23 for that whole story—but we’ve only really mentioned the Kumaso once or twice. They appear to have been another ethnicity in the islands—possibly even related to the Hayato, but just as likely that they were entirely different. It is unclear who they were, though the “Land of the Kumaso” generally seems to refer to the land of Hyuuga, also known as Himuka, which is where Ninigi no Mikoto, ancestor of the royal line, is also said to have first landed, on the southeast quadrant of Kyushu. Some have suggested that they were actually two peoples, the Kuma and the So. Others have suggested that “Kuma” specifically refers to “bear”, and even make a connection to the Bear Worship of the Ainu and suggest that there may be a connection to pre-Yayoi beliefs.
Still others note the continued use of “Kuma”, even today. Kumamoto in Kyushu, for example, and the Kuma district, which is noted as having a distinct dialect of Japanese, though not so much as to be called a separate language like Ryukyuan or even the Hachijo dialects. They appear to be referred to in texts up to the Nara period, lending some credence as to their existence as more than just southwestern bogeymen of the Yamato court—but then again, the Fudoki are also replete with stories of the Tsuchigumo, or Earth Spider, people, so you may want to take this all with a grain of salt.
Regardless, the Kumaso were clearly a people set apart from Yamato and their allies. They are portrayed as subjects—after all, the narrative is that all of the Japanese archipelago was under the Divine authority granted to the Heavenly Descendant and his progeny—but they are typically shown as rebellious, thus requiring the sovereign to chastise them.
Of course, I think by now we can easily see that this is little more than a polite fiction. There is no evidence of any kind of extensive control of the archipelago at this time, let alone Kyushu. The court isn’t punishing rebellious subjects, but rather it is taking military action against people that it finds to be counter to its own interests. If the ensuing campaign, as described in the Chronicles, is at all based on reality, I would suggest that this was part of a military push by Yamato to gain more complete control over the islands—particularly the pathways to the mainland, still the source for so much that the archipelago themselves could not easily produce domestically.
Interestingly, this Yamato dominance may have had something to do with the technological advantage of iron armor imported from the mainland: because in the early 4th century we start to see examples of early iron armor in the archipelago. Previously, armor had been made of wood or other organic materials, and surviving examples vary between extremely simplistic designs of hanging plates to elaborately carved wooden cuirasses that may have had as much, or more, of a ceremonial function—it certainly is more than is strictly needed for the purpose of protection on the battlefield.
Wood armor is all well and good, but wood has its disadvantages, including its weight. Pound for pound, wood is not as strong as metal, and so you need more of it and larger pieces. Iron armor, on the other hand, can be made with relatively thin plates, greatly reducing weight and also allowing for protection over more of the body.
From what we can tell, the early iron cuirasses that appear in the archipelago likely came from the mainland—specifically from the Kara, or Gaya, region. These were solid armors of vertical plates, which seem to have been laced together with leather thongs—I’ll have an example in the podcast page. The early versions found in the archipelago seem to be exactly like the ones found in Kara, leading to the conclusion that they were likely imports, though it is possible that they were manufactured locally—it is hard to tell. Surviving armor generally was passed down to us, today, as grave goods, and there are still a lot of questions, including just how widespread armor was on the ancient battlefield. Iron was, itself, a precious commodity, and no doubt an entire cuirass of iron was, at least early on, only available to the most elite warriors. Even the rivets, at this point, were made of leather.
Now, I’m aware of no records of just what, exactly, a warband of the time would have looked like in the early 4th century. I suspect that some were armored in iron, while others may have had armor of wood or similar, and still other warriors may have had no armor at all. There do seem to be a plethora of iron weapons, such as swords and the like, so maybe there was more armor than I’m giving credit for. Still, in an age where there is still no definitive evidence of iron manufacturing—that is, smelting iron from raw iron ore—in the archipelago, it must have been really prestigious to have iron armor, whether imported or made from imported raw materials. Moreover, to see a band of warriors in iron armor must have been quite a sight for the time.
Horses still seem to be a ways off in the historical record, so these warbands likely traveled on foot. This would mean crossing overland along footpaths and trails, or else taking long, slender boats, putting me in mind of the large canoes of Polynesia and the Pacific Northwest. I can easily imagine them, plying the waves, their iron cuirasses and helmets lacquered black to protect against the elements, possibly sporting a young sapling or similar decoration on the bow.
Now as I said, the Chronicles claim that the Kumaso were in “rebellion”—which implied they had previously been under Yamato’s authority, otherwise what were they rebelling against? There is no real evidence outside of the chronicles for any kind of subordinate relationship between Yamato and the other groups on the islands—alliances and cultural sharing, yes, but still no sign of a Japanese “state” as such. So then, assuming these assaults did occur, it must have been for some other reason. Perhaps to secure trade routes or other alliances.
There’s also always the possibility that these conflicts had nothing to do with Yamato, and that it was some other conflict between other groups that was later attributed to Yamato to help explain their hegemony over the archipelago.
But enough dithering about, let’s take a look at what the Chronicles—or at least the Nihon Shoki and the various Fudoki—have to say about this campaign.
So when the sovereign, Oho Tarashi Hiko, decided to head west to punish the Kumaso, he gathered up his forces and headed to Saba, in the country of Suou. This was probably in the area of the Saba River in Houfu City, in modern day Yamaguchi Prefecture. I mean, come on, the modern city’s name basically reads as “Suou Government Seat”, and indeed it apparently was the capital of the old province of Suou—and likely would have held a similar role even earlier, back in the early 4th century. There are certainly plenty of kofun clusters in and around the area. So it might make sense for Oho Tarashi Hiko to stop there, especially if they had some kind of alliance with Yamato, to regroup and plan for the campaign before heading into Kyushu.
Oho Tarashi is said to have looked south from Saba, and claimed to see smoke billowing up, indicating the presence of bandits. Now, first off, this would have meant meant looking out over more than 20 miles of ocean in the Seto Inland Sea down to Kyushu, and then picking out smoke in the sky over the distant mountains, which is certainly possible—signal smoke can be visible for at least 50 miles, and if it is a settlement of any size, one imagines it would have been the smoke from several fires. Still, while I’m sure smoke was a good indication of people and a settlement, in what way does it specifically indicate “bandits”—unless, of course, you are an invading foreign power, in which case they are probably all “bandits”, i.e. “enemies”, until proven otherwise.
And so Oho Tarashi dispatched some men to go scout out the region. One presumes they set out with a small force while Oho Tarashi continued to take advantage of his hosts in the country of Suou. This must not have been a stealth mission, though, because the chieftain of that far country—likely the country of Toyo—took to the water in a ship of her own to come out and meet the Yamato forces. We are told that she—and, yes, this chieftain, we are told, was, specifically, a woman—had a branch of hard wood that had been taken from Mt. Shitsu, on the northern coast of Kyushu, and placed it at the bow of her ship, placing on it a sword, a mirror, and a jewel—similar to the three items of the royal regalia, and reminiscent of the tree that had been set up to lure Amaterasu out of the Heavenly Rock Cave. In addition, she also raised up a white flag—apparently even in ancient Japan, that was a sign of truce. This chieftain’s name, we are told, was Kamuhashi Hime, and she was the ruler of her country. She told the Yamato forces that she and her people were not in rebellion—which could be taken as a sign of submission—but there were some brigands in the area apparently causing trouble. These were Hanatari, who was camped out at the headwaters of the Usa River; Mimitarai, who was up at the headwaters of Mi-ke; Asahagi, at the head of the Takawa, and Tsuchiwori-Wiwori, who was hiding out at the headwaters of Midorino. According to Kamuhashi, these four and their followers were causing mischief, each one declaring himself and his relations chieftains, and Hanatari himself had assumed an unauthorized title—we aren’t told which, but do you remember how, in the last reign, someone was calling themselves King of the Wa and suggesting that Korean vessels stop at their country and go no farther? Well, I suspect we may have a similar situation.
And of course, who is to say whether or not these were “unauthorized” claims or not? They may all have been just as “legitimate” as our protagonist, Oho Tarashi, but they were on the wrong side of our current narrative.
So hearing all this from Kamuhashi Hime, one of the Yamato advance scouts, Take Morogi, came up with a plan. He invited one of the four, Asahagi, to come see him and enticed him with the promise of various presents, and encouraged him to bring his friends. Sure enough, all four of these local leaders and their followers came to see what it was that these Yamato envoys had to offer. There was talk of red trousers, and other such things; and I guess for some reason, red trousers were a thing? But of course, this was one of the oldest tricks in the book—like offering fugitive criminals a free cruise. And just like with the free cruise, as soon as they showed up, they were taken prisoner and subdued. Perhaps not the most “honorable” means of defeating one’s enemies, but certainly practical.
With those four groups subdued, it must have been deemed safe to bring the big guns, because the advance force sent a message to Oho Tarashi, presumably still hanging out in Suou, and he sailed down, landing at Nagao in the country of Toyo—possibly in the area of modern Yukuhashi city. This was apparently the capital of that country, the seat of Kamuhashi Hime. Did she welcome Oho Tarashi Hiko as a fellow sovereign to her lands? Or was she coerced by his military might? We aren’t really told, but this seems to have become the beachhead for the rest of their campaign.
From Nagao they marched onto the country of Ohokida, modernly known as Ohoita prefecture, and came to the village of Hayami, which might have been the area of Hayami district on the north of Beppu Bay. It was there that they met another chieftain, Haya tsu Hime.
Haya tsu Hime met with Oho Tarashi’s men and reported that there were two “Tsuchigumo”—the Earth-Spider people—living in a place called “The Rat’s Cave”, but it isn’t entirely clear. These Tsuchigumo were known simply as Awo and Shiro—Blue and White. Hayatsu Hime also told him about three others in Negino, in the district of Nawori, named Uchizaru, Yata, and Kunimaro. All five of these men were said to be quite large and strong, with numerous followers, apparently in the western regions of modern Oita Prefecture.
This account is confirmed in the Bungo Fudoki—or at least that Fudoki used the same sources—which said said that after leaving Saba, Oho Tarashi and his men traveled to Miyaura in the Ama District, which is where he met Hayatsu Hime, who told him about all five of these Tsuchigumo. Oho Tarashi thought about what he would do, and he had his men stop at Kutami, where they built a giant muro or pit building which they could use as their council chambers while plotting their next move. Oho Tarashi had his men cut down camellia trees to make mallets as their weapons, and they then used these to attack the two Tsuchikumo living in the caves, defeating them near the headwaters of Inaba.
I’m not really sure what the mallets were all about, but since the Tsuchigumo are implied to have lived underground—these ones specifically, it also feels like they were playing some kind of giant and violent game of whack-a-mole. Of course, the description of the aftermath was much more gruesome, with claims that there was so much blood it soaked the soldiers’ feet up to their ankles, and they called that area the Blood Fields—Chida—because of the gory aftermath.
But they weren’t done yet—there still was more. After defeating Awo and Shiro in their caves, the army crossed Mt. Negi, seeking Uchizaru, but they stopped when they came under heavy attack from multiple sides, caught in what appears to be a cross-fire ambush of some kind. This caused Oho Tarashi to pull his men back to figure out what to do next. And of course, what else do you do when you have a big decision to make and aren’t sure what is best? That’s right! He pulled out the magic eight-ball of the Kofun era: Divination.
And so, armed with this occult intelligence, Oho Tarashi decided that they should maneuver around Uchizaru, and first attack one of the other Tsuchigumo, Yata. The Yamato forces descended on the moor of Negino and defeated Yata and his forces. This unnerved Uchizaru, who was losing allies left and right, and so he attempted to submit, hoping that he and his men would be spared, but Oho Tarashi Hiko was having none of it, and he refused Uchizaru’s submission. And so Uchizaru and his men—including, one assumes, the last Tsuchigumo leader, Kunimaro—decided that it would be better to die than to fall into their enemies’ hands, and they threw themselves into a ravine, where they perished.
There follows a story about Oho Tarashi Hiko kicking a giant stone into the air as though it was a leaf on the wind as part of an oath that he would destroy the Tsuchigumo, though, since he had just done that, it seems a bit out of order. It also goes into the three deities that he prayed to, I guess attributing his victory to them. We may come back to this, but for now it appears to have little relevance to our immediate story as we try to understand what might be going on.
Speaking of, what is going on here? Oho Tarashi Hiko comes to take on the Kumaso, but first has to fight off bandits, and *then* fights off Tsuchigumo? That seems rather out of place—though they were on his way to the land of the Kumaso, so I guess there is that.
If I try to look beyond the narrative of the Yamato court, I could see it a little differently. For instance, from Saba, he sends out an advance team who meets the titular ruler of the land of Toyo—or at least that part later known as Buzen—Kamuhashi Hime. Yamato and Toyo come to an agreement and they offer military aid in securing control of the nearby territory. This then repeats itself to the south, in the land of Ohoita, where they meet with Haya tsu Hime. While Haya tsu Hime is only credited with running a village—or mura—she may have been an ally similar to Kamuhashi Hime, but her problem seems to have been with people living in the interior part of the island, up in the mountain valleys, and again Yamato forces lend their aid, possibly in return for an alliance. In this light, it is less simply conquest, and more like consolidating alliances with various groups and helping to ensure that they would be in positions to be useful to Yamato—such as allowing trade through the straits, and protecting the sea lanes of the Seto Inland Sea—after all, most of these allies are coastal, while their enemies appear to be up at the headwaters—that is, up in the mountains. Conflicts, then, between coastal and interior polities.
And I can’t pass by without also commenting on the fact that the two allied leaders, so far, are both women. Women who are in charge of settlements, communities, and even entire countries.
Having secured the countries of the Northern Toyo and Ohoita—which would later be part of Toyo before the two were split into Buzen and Bungo in the 7th century—Oho Tarashi Hiko and his men continued south in their pursuit of the Kumaso, coming to Himuka—aka Hyuuga—the land where Ninigi no Mikoto himself is said to have descended to earth. They set up a residence—specifically a “traveling palace”, which seemed to be the norm in their journeys—in a place called Takaya, believed to be the location of modern Takaya Shrine, in Saito city, Miyazaki. Saito city itself has an impressive number of kofun—a collection of over 300 in the western plain, built between the 3rd and 7th centuries, known as the Saitobaru Kofungun. It even includes two large tombs that are identified by the Imperial Household Agency as the tombs of the mythical Ninigi no Mikoto and his wife, Konohana Sakuya Hime. However, let’s face it, I am highly skeptical of any ancient Yamato ancestors in this area, and figure that was a later addition to the lineage. Still, a somewhat intriguing connection.
Keeping his men at Takaya, Oho Tarashi Hiko consulted with his generals on just how they would approach this next task. From what they knew, the Kumaso led by two men, known as Atsu-Kaya and Sa-Kaya. Between the two of them they had at least 80 warriors, or “Braves”—Kumaso-takeru. That may not sound like much in modern terms, but it was likely quite the warband for the time, especially given how far the Yamato forces were from their home base.
Oho Tarashi Hiko wanted to try to get through this as best he could without fighting, if at all possible. One of his ministers proffered a rather radical suggestion. It seems that one of the Kumaso braves had two daughters, Ichi Fukuya and Ichi Kaya. What if the Yamato sovereign were to offer presents and let them know he was seeking marriage. Using this ruse, they could infiltrate the Kumaso, get to know their strengths, and attack them when they were least expecting it. Oho Tarashi liked this plan and so it was put into motion.
The two Kumaso women were lured into this Yamato version of the Bachelor, and Oho Tarashi immediately made love to Ichi Fukaya, who apparently fell for him something hard. She suggested that she could get the Kumaso to submit—she would just need a couple of soldiers to accompany her back home.
And so, she brought the soldiers back to her father’s house, and she got her father so drunk on wine that he passed out. Then she cut his bowstring, so he couldn’t defend himself, and called in the Yamato soldiers, who killed him straight away.
This had the desired effect—the Kumaso were apparently subdued quickly after that, though the details beyond that one incident are obscured.
As for Ichi Fukaya, what happened to her? Well, if she thought that the Yamato forces would reward her for her actions she was sadly mistaken. Rather than being pleased with her ruthless act of loyalty, Oho Tarashi Hiko was disgusted. After all, how could she so easily participate in the murder of her own father? And if she was willing to do that, what else would she do? What loyalty could he really count on? No, Ichi Fukaya’s reward for betraying her father and, indeed, all of her people, was death. Her sister, Ichi Kaya, on the other hand, was given to the chieftain of the country of Ki, south of Yamato.
With the Kumaso subdued, Oho Tarashi found the land of Himuka rather peaceful, and he stayed there with his court for six years, we are told. He even took a local bride, Miwakashi Hime, and together they had a son—Toyokuni Wake no Miko, or the Royal Prince, Lord of the country of Toyo, who was, in turn, the ancestor of the chieftain of the country of Himuka—later Hyuuga.
Of course, what they don’t mention in this are all the little details. One big logistical question that I’m going to explore a bit is, if Oho Tarashi was spending all this time outside of Yamato, then who was tending to the court rituals? Were they performing the Niinamesai and other such rituals at Takaya, or was there a stand-in back in Miwa that was doing all of this for them? How many court members were with him and who was “minding the store”, so to speak, back home? I mean, while six years doesn’t exactly hold a candle to some monarch’s absences—I’m looking at you Richard the Lionheart—they at least had regents and robust systems in place to manage things while they were gone. What did Oho Tarashi have?
In fact, later on in his reign, back in Yamato, Oho Tarashi Hiko would hold a feast for his ministers, which lasted several days. During the feast, his son and eventual successor Waka Tarashi Hiko, as well as a trusted minister, Takechi Sukune, were conspicuously absent. When Oho Tarashi tracked them down and asked why they were keeping themselves apart, they explained that somebody had to be guarding against the crazies. What would happen if, while everyone was drunk and incapacitated, some madmen were to take the palace? So they were keeping watch.
If things were so bad they couldn’t leave the store without a minder for several days, what made them so confident they could be gone for six years?
And while Himuka isn’t the Holy Land—they were still within a few weeks boat ride back to Yamato—faster if it was an emergency, I have to wonder about much of this. Several theories come to mind that could explain what was going on.
First, perhaps this is a good example of the co-ruler idea, where one ruler focused on the rituals at home while the other handled military matters, such that one might go on an expedition and still leave a functioning administration—such as it was—back home.
Second, there is always the possibility that Oho Tarashi Hiko was not the ruler when he went on campaign, but perhaps simply a prince, and without context the story of his expedition against the Kumaso just became part of his reign, since we don’t tend to get much of the sovereigns lives outside of their reigns.
Then there is the possibility he was never there at all. That it was some other general leading the armies. Of course, that always brings its own set of potential problems, even if we are only talking about warbands, moreso than large groups of armed forces.
Of course, there may have been a regent left back in Yamato that we just don’t hear about. After all, this isn’t about them, or even about the state—it is about the royal line.
And then the whole thing about 6 years may have been nothing more than an exaggeration as well. Or perhaps, rather than sitting there in comfort, the wars with the Kumaso actually did drag on. Maybe the story we aren’t seeing is of supply lines all the way back to Yamato supplying men and goods while they fought with their allies against an entrenched opponent who would not go quietly. But a military quagmire is not the epic narrative that anyone wants to read about—least of all the royal descendants.
Then, finally, there is the outside possibility that Oho Tarashi wasn’t originally from Yamato at all, but that he was actually a ruler in Kyushu, or at least in Western Japan. That could explain the sudden change from two sovereigns named “Iribiko” to several sovereigns styled Tarashi—Tarashi the Elder—Oho Tarashi—and his son and eventual successor, Tarashi the Younger—Waka Tarashi—followed by Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, who is also known for his campaigns in Kyushu.
Who knows the truth, but this definitely seems to be the first time that the territories in Kyushu really are shown entering the Yamato sphere, so I still find it an important story.
Now after six years, Oho Tarashi Hiko decided to pack it in and head back home, but not before finishing a circuit of Kyushu. And so they crossed overland, through what is believed to be the territory of the Kumaso. As they neared what is believed to be the modern sight of Kobayashi, they saw a group gathered at the banks of the Iwase River. Cautiously—after all, they were basically in a foreign land—Oho Tarashi Hiko sent two of his retinue ahead. These were Hinamori the Elder and Hinamori the Younger. Hinamori the Younger brought back word that everything was good—the crowd gathered there was summoned by the local lord, Izumi Hime, the lord of Murokata, which would seem to indicate she was the local ruler of the area around modern Kirishima up to the Iwase River. Interestingly, the Nihon Shoki specifically calls this area “Hinamori”, and there is a local peak known, today, as Hinamori Dake. You may also have a vague memory of Hinamori from the days of Himiko—it was the title given for the deputy governors in Tsushima, Iki, Ito, Na, and Fumi—basically all of the states mentioned in the Weizhi between the Korean Peninsula up through Kyushu. Whether or not this Hinamori was at all related, who knows, but it is an interesting connection.
By the way, if you go to Kobayashi, today, they have a stone where they said Oho Tarashi took his ease, presumably during the feast. Of course, how one would even prove such a thing I have no idea, but it is yet another connection in the minds of the people between that place and this story.
Continuing on their way, the Yamato forces arrived at the district of Kuma, and they summoned the princes of Kuma: Kuma tsu Hiko the Elder and Kuma tsu Hiko the younger. As is so often seen in these stories—so much so that it is almost cliché—only one of them accepted the invitation. In this case it was Kuma tsu Hiko the Elder. And so Oho Tarashi Hiko sent his forces to kill Kuma tsu Hiko the Younger.
The district of Kuma was quite possibly the heart of Kumaso territory—or at least the heart of the Kuma of the Kuma and So. Indeed, they were probably moving north towards the Kuma river and modern Kumamoto Prefecture, possibly through the area of Hitoyoshi, and perhaps nearby Kuma-mura. They didn’t keep to the mountains, though. They eventually made it to the Yatsushiro Sea, along the southwest edge of modern Kumamoto prefecture. There they acquired or built boats—the Chronicles doesn’t specify which—and took to the water.
We are told they stopped for a meal at an island at near Ashikita, and then headed north. The Hizen Fudoki records that they left Ashikita from Hinagare no Ura, specifically, and both the Fudoki and the Nihon Shoki mention that as they were on the water, the sun started to go down. Now of course, traveling in the dark was never ideal back in ancient times, when torches and the like were your best source of illumination, but I can only imagine what it must have been like to realize they were going to be caught in the dark in an unknown area. The men on the ships would have scanned the shores for any sign of village or settlement where they could pull in and take advantage of the local hospitality, but they saw nothing until dusk began to settle in. Suddenly, Oho Tarashi Hiko glimpsed a light up in the sky, and told the pilot to steer in that direction. Following that light, like the magi following the Christmas star, they made their way safely to land. Sure enough, they found a village, but nobody there knew what the light could have been that they had seen. Awed by this, Oho Tarashi assumed that it must have been a fire set by the kami to help guide him and his men to safety. According to the Nihon Shoki, this was Toyo Mura, the Bountiful Village, in the land of Yatsushiro. The Hizen Fudoki provides it a more romantic name, however: Hi no Mura, or the Fire Village, and likewise attributes this story to why the entire country was called Hi no Kuni—though given the Wa and their penchant for the sun, it is just as likely that it was named to be the “Country of the Sun”.
Departing Toyomura, they traveled on to Tamakina, in the district of Takaku, which is thought to be the area of modern Tamana city, northwest of modern Kumamoto city. There they were apparently not met with the warmest of welcomes, and we are told that the Yamato soldiers killed a Tsuchigumo named Tsudzura.
From Tamakina, they seem to have traveled east, back towards the center of the island. Traveling through the land, they apparently headed through Aso—the area around Mt. Aso, an active volcano in Kyushu on the border of modern Ohoita Prefecture.
From there they traveled to north Kyushu—Tsukushi—visiting numerous other places. I swear, just do a search of monuments in Kyushu and you’ll find a slew of what amounts to “Keiko Tenno slept here” (Keiko Tenno being Oho Tarashi Hiko’s posthumous name, of course) all over the place. The Nihon Shoki seems to take his route back up to Toyo no Kuni, including Mi-ke and the like, but the Hizen Fudoki puts him more in Yame, east of Chikugo, and Kurume, where there is mention of him in regards to staying in the “Kaura palace”. He is also said to have passed through Ukiha. The long and short of it is that it seems somewhat confused, and since all it would be is learning a bunch of different place names, I think we can leave it at that. There are some other stories that I skimmed or glossed over for time, and because they largely are focused more on the mythology than anything that would seem to connect us to an historical or geographical time period.
And with that, the Kyushu campaign was finished.
Well… mostly finished. There would be another round with Oho Tarashi’s son, Oho Usu no Mikoto, but that was not nearly as detailed and more directly dealing just with the Kumaso. But if we get into that, we may as well look at the rest of his story, and that will be an episode unto itself. So let’s save that for a future date.
As for this episode—whew, that was a lot. Many new faces popping up—the country of Suou in eastern Yamaguchi prefecture, and then the countries of Toyo and Ohoita—later Buzen and Bungo. And then Kuma and up to Tsukushi. It was quite the ride. Also, let’s not forget how many women we saw running things in the era before Confucian misogyny rolled into town and set up shop. Next episode we’ll look at the rest of the military campaigns in this reign and that legendary figure, Yamato Takeru.
Until then, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Barnes, G., & Ryan, J. (2015). Armor in Japan and Korea. Encyclopaedia of the History of Science, Technology, and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, p. 1-16. DOI: 10.1007/978-94-007-7747-7_10234
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
KISHIMOTO, Naofumi (2013, May). Translated by Ryan, Joseph. Dual Kingship in the Kofun Period as Seen from the Keyhole Tombs. UrbanScope e-Journal of the Urban-Culture Research Center, OCU, Vol.4 (2013) 1-21. ISSN 2185-2889 http://urbanscope.lit.osaka-cu.ac.jp/journal/vol.004.html
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 32: Ikume's Miscellany

January 1, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Sumō dohyō at a chanko nabe restaurant in Ryogoku, Tokyo. Though most of the trappings are from the Edo period, it claims roots in the time of the earliest sovereigns. Photo by author.

RSS

Archives

明けましておめでとうございます！ Happy New Year, everyone!

So as I mentioned in the episode, this one is a bit odd—a bit all over the place, really. Sumō, shrines, and then something bout oranges.

On Sumō

For information on modern sumō, a quick Internet search should turn up plenty, both in English and Japanese, so I really won’t go into all of that here. Rather, we’ll just pull out a few things from the episode.

First off, Nomi no Sukune. His title, “Sukune”, tells us that he was someone of rank—of course, as with many of these ancestral figures, it isn’t clear if he was already “no Sukune” at the time that the court “discovered” his wrestling talents or not, but he was more than just a great wrestler. His connection to Izumo is interesting, as is his connection to haniwa. How or why all this is related is still something of a mystery, at least from what we’ve seen so far. Maybe it will become more clear as we move on—or perhaps it won’t. We’ll see.

As for some of the other connections, it is hard to tell how much of the “traditional” sites are accurate, but it at least gives us some idea of what the people believed. For instance, there is the Sumō Shrine in Anashi, Sakurai. If you take a look at its position, it is clearly in an area near some of the large kofun and ruins that we associated with this time period. Then again, is it that difficult given the clues in the chronicles themselves?

The roof of the shrine, as seen from outside—the actual buildings are surrounded by walls and the public is only allowed in the outermost worship areas. Photo by author.

Ise Grand Shrine

One of the other things we see in this episode is the founding of the Grand Shrine of Ise—Ise Jingū. The shrine of the Imperial Family, the chief shrine of Amaterasu Ōkami, many would consider it the central shrine of Shintō worship and practice. Certainly there is a modern focus on the shrine, which includes a University, the Kogakkan, set up in the 19th century and still going strong, today, including a graduate course in Shinto studies for those aspiring to the Shinto priesthood.

And yet, despite this, before the Kamakura Period, very few commoners likely knew much about the shrine. It was over time that it opened more to the people outside the circle of the court itself, until, in the Edo period, there was special dispensation for anyone to make pilgrimages to the shrine, no matter their rank and status in society. This has been a transformation over time. One that really deserves more time and words than I would give it here.

Of course, we have seen the “founding” of the shrine from several aspects already in the Chronicles. First off, there are multiple stories in the Age of the Gods, when the Heavenly Deities are being sent down in the first place. There are a few different stories about just who was sent down and how they were to establish the shrine. This is similar to how the shrine at Mt. Miwa has at least two stories of its origins—the outright mythic and the mytho-historic.

So it is in the account of Ikume Iribiko no Mikoto, however, is where we first see Amaterasu enshrined at Ise, and the individual who is given this task is known simply as Yamato Hime. That name does not tell us much. Some have suggested that “Yamato” is the family name of the royal lineage, but that doesn’t really hold water. After all, if that were the case, we would expect to see all of the sovereigns named as some variation of “Yamato no X”, but that really isn’t the way of it. In fact, there is no need for a family name for the royal line—possibly because in the early days it seems that family names may not have been in use, at least not as we think of them, later, but also because they royal house is just that, and there is no need for a “family” name because the titles tell you all that you need to know. So “Yamato” then, one assumes, is simply a locative, telling us that this is a person “of [the country of] Yamato”. And then “Hime” simply refers to a “woman of the sun”—a lady or princess, used as both a title and an honorific, and the counterpart to the male “hiko”. So what are we to make of this founding princess, Yamato Hime?

Furthermore, jumping ahead a bit, we’ll see “Yamato Hime” playing a part in the stories of Yamato Takeru, the Brave of Yamato, aka O’usu no Mikoto. But that takes place almost 100 years—according to the Nihon Shoki—after the founding of the shrine. Leaving us with the question—just how old was Yamato Hime? Granted, we cannot exactly take any dates or lengths of time at this point in the Chronicles at face value, but it does make one wonder.

Some have suggested that “Yamato Hime” was simply the title of the Chief Priestess of Ise in the early days. That there may have been multiple women who held the role and the position—they may even have been members of the Yamato royal line. They may have indeed brought Yamato style worship to the area, or may have co-opted local practices as part of some political arrangement.

On the other end, some have suggested that Yamato Hime could have been the title of the ruler of Yamato—Yamato no HImemiko, or Queen Himiko herself—but that opens even more questions about what is going on here.

For now, I think we will accept that the shrine is founded, though possibly not as “Grand” as it would eventually be. It may even have held the sacred mirror—and apparently the sword, Murakumo—but we’ll want to come back around to all of that.

Isonokami

For my money, Isonokami seems to be the more important shrine, at least at the time.. Some of this may be the influence of the Kūjiki and its support of the Mononobe, who claim Isonokami as their ancestral shrine, but it has already held some prominence since the time of the Age of the Gods, and there is a lot more detail about it in these early passages than really about Ise. And while the shrine itself may not be as well known to people, especially outside of Japan, it continues to maintain a storehouse with donations dating back to at least the Kofun period if not earlier. I suspect that it suffered in status along with the Mononobe, as their own influence diminished, but early on it seems to have been quite important.

The significance of the weapons being stored at the shrine would seem to fit in with the stories that the Mononobe themselves were placed in charge of many of the military matters of state, giving their kinsmen access to the halls of power, as it were. Remember, they trace their own lineage back to another Heavenly Grandchild, Umashimaji. Who knows? But for a twist of fate back in the mists of time, perhaps this shrine would have been the ancestral shrine of the Royal House, and not Ise? We may never fully know, however, as our sources are thin and this is still before the age of true written culture in the archipelago..

And as promised in the episode, check out some of their treasures on the shrine website.

The Introduction of Oranges to Japan

This last story seems kind of odd. A royal desire for a fruit from the continent, and a ten year mission that returns too late. On the surface, it is just the tale of the oranges, and that is it. Beneath that, though, I can’t help but notice that the one who goes out is a descendant of immigrants from the Korean peninsula, and his return, just after the sovereign’s death, seems oddly in tune with the arrival of Prince Tsunoga just after Mimaki Iribiko’s passing. Is this mere coincidence, or is there more? It certainly seems to speak to ongoing intercourse with the mainland, even if that was less official than the missions to the Wei court.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
KISHIMOTO, Naofumi (2013, May). Translated by Ryan, Joseph. Dual Kingship in the Kofun Period as Seen from the Keyhole Tombs. UrbanScope e-Journal of the Urban-Culture Research Center, OCU, Vol.4 (2013) 1-21. ISSN 2185-2889 http://urbanscope.lit.osaka-cu.ac.jp/journal/vol.004.html
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
AKIMA, T. (1993). The Origins of the Grand Shrine of Ise and the Cult of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu Ōmikami. Japan Review, (4), 141-198. Retrieved December 25, 2020, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/25790929
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Takeshi, M. (1978). Origin and Growth of the Worship of Amaterasu. Asian Folklore Studies, 37(1), 1-11. doi:10.2307/1177580
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 31: The Romance of Saho Hime

December 16, 2020 Joshua Badgley

Yatsunada of Kōzuke attacking the rice castle of Saho Hime and her brother, as envisioned by the artist Tsukioka Yoshitoshi in 1880.

RSS

Archives

Alright, everyone, here’s your holiday episode: The tragic romance of Saho Hime. This episode was really a blast, and I can’t tell you how nice it was to be able to focus on a real “story”—I love the sleuthing behind putting together the different pieces of history, personally (that’s what pulls me down so many different rabbit holes), but this story is pretty cut and dried. Did it actually happen? Well, who knows. We are fairly certain they weren’t writing things down in this period, so it is unlikely to be entirely accurate. And of course they put a bit of a sheen on it to make the sovereign look to be justified and righteous. But the core story seems believable enough. Certainly there have been some stranger-than-fiction stories that really happened, so what does it hurt to accept it at more-or-less face value?

One thing out of this episode is a strangely named dagger—a dagger with a “multi-colored” cord. This may have referred to the creation of the blade, instead of an actual cord, but the multi-colored cord goes best with the story. It is unclear exactly what that would have looked like.

Dramatis Personae

Now I do want to address something that has come up, and I worried about this from the very beginning: keeping track of all of the different names and characters. And believe me, I struggle with this myself. The truth is, the chronicles weren’t really all that concerned with giving history and backstory and fleshing out all of the people that appear in it. In addition, as this is an English language podcast, I can only assume the lack of familiarity with the names can be pretty wild. Even if you know Japanese it doesn’t help, as many of the words that form the names have changed over the centuries in meaning or pronunciation—and in some cases we still aren’t quite sure where a name comes from or if it even is a true “name” as we would think of it. And don’t get me started about how many of these texts will happily use two, three, or four different names for the same person, sometimes radically different from one another. That said, let me try to at least capture the major dramatis personae in this episode.

Ikume Iribiko Isachi - AKA Suinin Tennō (a 7th or 8th century designation), aka the Sovereign of the Tamagaki Palace. Ikume is the 11th sovereign of Yamato, according to the Chronicles. He is the son of Mimaki Iribiko, the previous ruler, and likely lived around the latter 3rd century, in my opinion. Though he is the focus of the Chronicles, in some ways the action more revolves around him than is caused by him, per se.

Saho Hime - AKA Sawaji Hime. I suspect that “Sawaji” may be her actual name, such as it is, but between her and her brother, it is just as easy to use “Saho” to demonstrate their relationship. Saho Hime was married to Ikume Iribiko when he first took the throne, though she has her own royal heritage. Her father is said to have been Hiko Imasu, and her mother was Saho no Ōkurami Tome. Hiko Imasu was the son of sovereign Waka Yamatoneko Hiko Ōhihi (aka Kaika).

So to quickly draw the lineages of Saho Hime and Ikume Iribiko, it would go like this:

Waka Yamatoneko Hiko Ōhihi -> Mimaki Iribiko Iniye -> Ikume Iribiko Isachi
“ “ -> Hiko Imasu - > Saho Hime

Saho Hiko - We only know Saho Hiko by his title. “Hiko”, meaning “Prince” or “Lord”, probably derived from “Child (of the) Sun”, and what I assume to be a place name, “Saho”. He is Saho Hime’s elder brother. We often run into paired names like this—Saho Hiko and Saho Hime; Aga Hiko and Aga Hime; even Mimaki Iribiko and Mimaki Iribime. Although we can see a gendered pairing, it doesn’t tell us if there are generational differences, nor whether the two are blood relatives or related through marriage or other means. So it could mean, effectively, Father-Daughter (often the assumption when X-Hiko gives up X-Hime to marry the sovereign or someone else), Brother-Sister (as appears to be the case here), or husband-wife (as with Mimaki Iribiko and Mimaki Iribime… maybe). It could even mean more than one of these relationships. There is also something of an assumption, in many cases, that X-Hiko or X-Hime have some kind of authority in the land of X, but this isn’t clearly the case, and it is possible that a construction is name+hime as it is that it is place+hime. I’ll try to go into more details on the titles we are seeing, down below.

Homutsu Wake - AKA Homuchi Wake, or Homuji Wake. The son of Ikume Iribiko and Saho Hime, either born in the “rice castle” or else just before and taken by his mother into the encampment. He is generally treated as though he either does not speak or else babbles, like a child, even as an adult.

Hiko Tatasu Michi no Ushi - From Tanba (or Taniha) Province. “No Ushi”, which we see a lot, is probably the origin for “Nushi”, meaning lord or master (e.g. Ōkuninushi). He is a son of Hiko Imasu—so technically a half-brother to Saho Hiko and Saho Hime, which could be why Saho Hime recommended his daughters, her nieces. Other than his role in providing daughters and linking back to Hiko Imasu and the royal lineage, we really don’t have much about him in this account.

Hibasu Hime - Daughter of Hiko Tatasu Michi no Ushi of Tanba. Mother of the next sovereign (#12) Ōtarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake.

Yatsunada - Related to Kōdzuke, aka Kamitsukenu, over in the Kantō region, though not clear if he is from that region or just that they are claiming descent through him. He is the general in charge of laying siege to Saho Hiko’s fortifications.

Aketatsu no Miko - Another grandson of Hiko Imasu. He accompanied Homutsu Wake to Izumo. “Miko” here refers to a royal prince. Many of the direct Royal Family are actually given the honorific “Mikoto”, but “Miko” actually appears on quite a few. Most of the time I am dropping it because the names are already long enough, and it isn’t always consistent between the various Chronicles.

Unakami - Also accompanied Homutsu Wake to Izumo. Not much else on them in this particular part of the Chronicles.

Kihisatsumi - An ancestor of the Izumo no Miyatsuko, but otherwise a somewhat random introduction.

On the subject of titles and honorifics

So with all of these names, it may be helpful to go over a few of the name elements that keep showing up over and over again.

Hiko/Hime - Perhaps the most common one that we come across. It appears to derive from “child” or “woman” (respectively) of the Sun. Originally pronounced more like “Piko”/“Pime”.

Iribiko/Iribime - Similar to Hiko/Hime, this appears around the time they start talking about the 10th sovereign, Mimaki Iribiko.

Mikoto/Miko - These appear as honorifics. “Mikoto”, using different kanji, is used for the kami during the Age of the Gods, and eventually also used for various members of the royal house and others. “Miko”, as noted above, is also found specifically for royal princes. I assume it is related to “Mikoto”, as in some chronicles we see “Miko” and others “Mikoto” for the same individual. I often drop this in the podcast, and it is always at the end of the name. The others show up in the middle or even beginning of the name, so it is harder to really just drop them, and often, like with Saho Hime/Hiko they are distinguishing elements. “Mikoto” appears to have no particular gender.

Wake - This one shows up in the name of our next sovereign. It is considered a kabane title for members of the royal family

Miyatsuko - Chieftain/Provincial governor. Usually of the form “Province name” + “no Miyatsuko”. So like the Izumo no Miyatsuko.

Other Kabane - Other kabane ranks that show up are Omi, Sukune, Muraji, Atae, etc.

Other possible titles - There are other types of apparent possible titles that aren’t clear, but sure seem like that to me. For instance: “Mimi” and “Tohe”. These appear to be local lords or chieftains. Often these appear in constructions where “tsu” is used as a genitive particle (vice “no”).

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 30: Yamato and the Continent

December 1, 2020 Joshua Badgley

These bronze spirals, which in this case come from Gimhae—what was once part of Gaya—in the 4th C, have been suggested as shield ornaments, though in truth nobody is quite sure what they were used for. They are representative, though, of the shared… — These bronze spirals, which in this case come from Gimhae—what was once part of Gaya—in the 4th C, have been suggested as shield ornaments, though in truth nobody is quite sure what they were used for. They are representative, though, of the shared forms and patterns between the peninsula and the archipelago as part of what Gina Barnes calls the Pen/Insular Culture. Similar spirals are found elsewhere in Japan, including at Yoshinogari, from about the 1st-2nd centuries. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

RSS

Archives

This episode we start to move on into the latter part of the 3rd century, with Mimaki Iribiko’s successor, Ikume Iribiko. This episode deals with the state of the continent and the peninsula as we get one (or possibly more) visitors from those lands. We also tackle the sticky question about “Mimana” and the claims of a Japanese colony on the peninsula, which were used to justify Japanese involvement in the peninsula in the 20th century. Most of the info is in the episode, but I’ll try to lay out a few things here.

About “Kara” v. “Gaya”

So many names of things on the peninsula have changed over the years, largely because of how things were recorded. The first system of writing that was used was Sinitic writing, just as in Japan, and so the characters used were not strictly phonetic. Korea would develop its own phonetic alphabet, Hangul, just as Japan would develop katakana and hiragana, but not until much later. The early chronicles were all written with Chinese characters, and so their pronunciation is typically something debated as linguists attempt to reconstruct the old pronunciations. In general what we know today as Gaya was probably pronounced something like “Garak”, “Gara”, or even “Kara” in its own time. In much of east Asia, voiced and unvoiced consonants can be almost interchangeable, with aspiration playing a more important role, which is almost reversed from English. This can make it hard to always see the relationships between things.

As for the relationship in Japanese—as I mention in the podcast, we have various things referring to the continent that all get a “kun’yomi” reading of “Kara”. So for instance you can find 漢・唐・観 all as “Kara”, when these characters represent, respectively, the Han Dynasty (KAN), the Tang Dynasty (TOU), and Korea (KAN). Basically anything that came from the continent through the peninsula was pronounced in the same way as “Gara” or “Garak”, which was spelled in various ways including: 加羅, 伽羅, 迦羅, 柯羅, 駕洛, 迦落.

And while we are talking about potentially confusing homophones in the text, I think that we should have a talk about “Han”. I believe I mentioned this before about the fact that we have the “Han” dynasty and then we have the “Samhan” or the three Han. It is quite confusing, but the truth is that these are different words that sound the same but use different characters. So for instance you have 漢 or 汉, which are both pronounced “Han” in modern Putonghua dialect of Chinese, and which refer to either the Han dynasty or, today, the ethnic Han people—the majority ethnicity of modern China. Then you have 韓, which is also pronounced “Han” in Chinese and Korean, and it is used to refer to Korea (the modern name of the Republic of Korea is Daehan Minguk: 大韓民國), but its original use appears to have been in referring to the three Han of the Korean Peninsula. To even further complicate matters, in Japanese both are pronounced with the same On’yomi of “KAN”.

So this has two problems. First is determining when we are talking about the ethnic Han of China, to which some might just suggest that we call them “Chinese”. However, not all of the dynasties of the area that we know as China were ethnically Han. Many of them descended from different ethnic roots. Even the Tang dynasty was not considered an ethnic Han dynasty, and neither was the more recent Qing dynasty—and we aren’t even talking about the Mongolian Yuan. On top of that, we should be careful of conflating modern states and political entities with previous states or governments, especially in an area as diverse as East Asia.

Even on the peninsula, which is only a fraction of the size of the rest of the continent, we know that there were a variety of cultures mixing and mingling, and a variety of languages that were being spoken.

Duck Shaped Vessels

These duck-shaped vessels were popular in the areas that would become Gaya and Silla prior to the Three Kingdoms period. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Duck shaped vessels

These duck-shaped vessels were popular in the areas that would become Gaya and Silla prior to the Three Kingdoms period. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Glass Beadmold, 1C-3C

Mold for making glass beads on the peninsula. From the Seoul National Museum. Photo by author.

Ritual Artifact with Birds 3C-4C

Bronze ritual artifact from Goseong showing a pair of birds. Birds were an important part of the spiritual and religious life of the peninsula in early days, and even today you can find sotdae—poles topped with birds—in the Korean countryside.

Bronze TLV Mirror, 4C

From Gimhae, which also has a set of “royal” tombs that appear in the 3rd C. Bronze mirrors, originally acquired from the Han and later dynasties, were not only prestige items in the archipelago, but on the continent as well. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Bronze Spearhead 2C-3C

Bronze socketed spearhead from Gimhae around the time that the Gaya states were forming. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Japanese Bronze Spirals 1C-3C

Bronze spiral ornaments from Japan.. From the Tokyo National, photo by author.

Magatama and other Jewelry

Examples of magatama (the comma shaped jewel) on the Korean peninsula. This design may have originated in the archipelago and then traveled west, demonstration cultural borrowing in both directions. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

W. Jin Soldier, 3C

A statue of a soldier from the Western Jin, about the 3rd Century. From the Tokyo National Museum, photo by author.

References

Barnes, G. (2015). Archaeology of East Asia: The Rise of Civilization in China, Korea and Japan. Oxbow Books. Retrieved November 30, 2020, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt19893vd
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Vovin, Alexander (2013). "From Koguryǒ to T’amna*: Slowly riding to the South with speakersof Proto-Korean." Korean LInguistics 15:2. John Benjamins Publishing Company. doi:10.1075/kl.15.2.03vov
Barnes, Gina L. (2007). State Formation in Japan: Emergence of a 4th-Century Ruling Elite. Routlede. ISBN 9780415596282
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9
Kidder, J. Edward (2007), Himiko and Japan's Elusive Chiefdom of Yamatai: Archaeology, History, and Mythology. ISBN: 978-0824830359
Barnes, Gina L. (1988). Protohistoric Yamato: Archaeology of the First Japanese State. ISBN 0-915703-11-4
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 29: The August Founder

November 16, 2020 Joshua Badgley

Artist’s interpretation of the 10th sovereign, Sujin

RSS

Archives

This episode, we cover the rest of Mimaki Iribiko’s reign in the Chronicles and discuss a little more about what actual context may have looked like around that time—assuming his chronicle is talking about around the 3rd century, about the time of Queen Himiko.

To start with, let’s look at some of the connections I suggested with the Chronicles:

The Ministers of Yamato:

Kanji	Tsunoda	Kidder	Soumare
伊支馬	Ikima	Ikima	Ikima
彌馬升	Mimasho	Mimato	Mimashi
彌馬獲支	Mimagushi	Mimawaki	Mimakaki
奴佳鞮	Nakato	Nakato	Nakatei

Compare some of those with the sovereign, Mimaki Iribiko, and his son, Ikume Iribiko. Now, this isn’t evidence that any of this is remotely related, but we also know that there are differences just between the Chronicles themselves on the pronunciation of many of these individuals, so who knows just what the original pronunciation was?

Now when talking about all these places and what is going on, sometimes it just helps to have a map. One of the things we talk about in the episode is the extent to which the iron forging technology had extended across the archipelago. Note that these are forges, which can help shape iron, but they are not bloomeries, where they actually create the raw iron ingots from ore for smiths to then turn into useful items. The bloomeries appear to have operated as a monopoly on the mainland for some time, jealously guarding their secrets, and keeping the islands dependent on their trade.

Rough map, showing what may have been the extent of the early and later iron forging technologies. Based on geographic extent noted by Gina L. Barnes (Barnes, 2007) and a map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

The early iron forging technology can be seen here as roughly described by Gina L. Barnes. I’ve used a map with the ancient provinces, though borders were not quite that specific in ancient days, and the coloring shows the rough extent—there may be other areas that just have not yet been discovered and some of the colored areas may have actually had no real access to the technology—in other words, this is for illustrative purposes, but I’d suggest checking some truly scholarly source for more rigorous data.

Now, the later technology relies on a tuyere, or tube, which allows air to be pushed into the forge, which in turn increases the combustion, increasing the heat that is produced. Higher temperatures allow for more efficient and different types of forging. I don’t want to get into the complexities of iron metallurgy right here, but basically iron’s properties can be controlled by a variety of mechanisms, including the temperature you heat it to, how fast or slow it cools down, physical work hardening (like when you bend a paper clip so many times and it gets a little harder just before it snaps), and then adulterating the iron with carbon or other elements. These can produce different shapes in the structure of the iron itself, which is why iron, cast iron, steel, etc. are all so different.

That said, would it have been enough of a leap to make these sites technologically superior? And was that enough? Or was it just that because these particular areas were connected, when they got the technology it spread in those areas where forging technology had not already been found? Why didn’t the previous areas adopt the new technology? Was it too much for them to change their established processes, while in areas where it had not been established it was easy to simply adopt the contemporary technology? I am not sure I could say.\

However, we can compare the extent of the iron working technology to the spread of the later keyhole tombs that showed up in the beginning of the kofun period. Only a few small examples appear before Hashihaka and the Makimuku cluster. Below maps show areas that archaeologically were fairly active—they appear to have chiefly or kingly activities—and then the regions where we find the actual kofun built.

Areas identified as having politically active areas in the late Yayoi to start of the Kofun period. Light areas identified by Sasaki (1995) and dark areas by Mizoguchi (2000), as noted in Barnes (2007). Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via W… — Areas identified as having politically active areas in the late Yayoi to start of the Kofun period. Light areas identified by Sasaki (1995) and dark areas by Mizoguchi (2000), as noted in Barnes (2007). Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

Areas with keyhole tombs identified by Mizoguchi (2009). Areas are not precise, and any polity may not have had actual control in all of the shaded regions. Dark areas had round keyhole tombs, while shaded areas had square or other keyhole tomb s… — Areas with keyhole tombs identified by Mizoguchi (2009). Areas are not precise, and any polity may not have had actual control in all of the shaded regions. Dark areas had round keyhole tombs, while shaded areas had square or other keyhole tomb styles. Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

The question in all this remains: Why is this spreading from Kinki—from the Makimuku area—outward and why not from Northern Kyushu? After all, Northern Kyushu is closer to the mainland and should have better trade linkages. It isn’t like the court at the base of Mt. Miwa could just fly past and on to the continent themselves.

In truth, we really don’t know, but there are several hypothesis. One is that the Nara Basin provided enough rice paddies for significant population growth and that their position between eastern and western Honshu made them a natural trading point. It still doesn’t quite explain why the round keyhole tombs proliferated quite as they did—was it submission, or competition, or something else? There doesn’t seem to be a single answer just yet, though historians and archaeologists continue provide their theories.

One more thing, while we are talking about territories and maps: let’s take a look at the areas that the Chronicles appear to cover.

Rough map of the areas that appear to be described in the Chronicles related to Mimaki Iribiko’s reign. Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

Now, this map is my own creation, as there is nothing so precise in the Chronicle, and even then, its claims seem far more grandiose than what is shown here, even. Yamato likely only directly controlled the area of the southeast Nara basin. How much direct control they had beyond that is unknown—they must have had some power, but there is no archaeological evidence suggesting a unified state as we would think of it with direct control to much extent until several centuries later. Still, the areas that are discussed do appear to be areas that can be correlated with both the non-local pottery found at Makimuku and with some of the other geographic signs seen in the earlier maps. Still, this is conjecture as the directions that the four generals took is unfortunately rather vague. For instance, was the Eastern Road just following the coast, and was there any movement in the central part of Eastern Honshu? This mountainous region may have taken time to bring into any particular state, as one imagines that the valleys could have had numerous settlements that had no particular affiliation outside their own local group.

On Kibi

So I hope there might be enough on Kibi to eventually pull together an episode just on this place—an apparent powerhouse during the early and Kofun periods, but perhaps not known so well as other areas of Japan. This is in part due to how it was carved up into various other provinces—something that was not uncommon. Koshi (越), meaning “to go beyond”, was broken into three provinces—Echizen (越前), Etchū (越中), and Echigo (越後)—using the other reading of the kanji for “Koshi”. A similar process happened with Kibi (吉備), but they simply used the final character, creating Bizen (備前), Bitchū (備中), and Bingo (備後). Later, they would break off another portion to be known as Mimasaka (美作).

Of course, for all of its size and apparent importance, we don’t hear quite as much about the gods of Kibi—not like those of Izumo—though there does seem to be some bleed-over across the mountains, which is not entirely surprising. While we may not know everything about Kibi’s greatness, its position in the Kofun period seems quite clear by the number of large kofun that still dot the landscape.

The Plains of Kibi

View of the plains and distant Kojima, where the Kibi kingdom once thrived, looking towards the Seto Inland Sea.

Kibitsu Shrine

This is the shrine dedicated to Kibitsu Hiko in modern Okayama.

Kibitsu Inner Shrine

This is the inner shrine of Kibitsu Jinja

Momotaro, et al

Statue of Momotaro in downtown Okayama. Even today, he is a beloved figure in the city, and the people of Okayama claim him as one of their own.

Tsukuriyama Kofun

The largest kofun in Okayama and the 4th largest in the archipelago, this round keyhole shape tomb dates from the 5th century—a couple hundred years, give or take, after our current narrative. It is believed to be the burial place of a local “king”, given its tremendous size.

Ki no Jo (鬼ノ城)

The ”Demon's Castle” on the mountainside overlooking the plains of ancient Kibi. Though the gate and rammed earth walls have been partially reconstructed in modern times, people have long been aware of its presence in this area, spawning conjecture and inspiring local myths and legends.

Ki no Jo Gate

The reconstructed Ki no Jo gate. Again, this is many centuries past our current narrative

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Kishimoto, Naofumi (2013). Dual Kingship in the Kofun Period as Seen from the Keyhole Tombs. UrbanScope: e-Journal of the Urban-Culture Research Center, OCU. http://urbanscope.lit.osaka-cu.ac.jp/journal/pdf/vol004/01-kishimoto.pdf
Mizoguchi, Koji. (2009). Nodes and Edges: A Network Approach to Hierarchisation and State Formation in Japan. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology - J ANTHROPOL ARCHAEOL. 28. 14-26. 10.1016/j.jaa.2008.12.001.
Barnes, Gina L. (2007). State Formation in Japan: Emergence of a 4th-Century Ruling Elite. Routlede. ISBN 9780415596282
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9
Kidder, J. Edward (2007), Himiko and Japan's Elusive Chiefdom of Yamatai: Archaeology, History, and Mythology. ISBN: 978-0824830359
Barnes, Gina L. (1988). Protohistoric Yamato: Archaeology of the First Japanese State. ISBN 0-915703-11-4
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Ledyard, G. (1975). Galloping along with the horseriders: looking for the founders of Japan. Journal of Japanese Studies. 1: 217-254
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 28: The Birth of the Miwa Cult

November 1, 2020 Joshua Badgley

A view of Mt. Miwa in the southeast Nara Basin. This sacred mountain and its local deity may have been the birthplace of Yamato. Photograph by “A photographer,” (sic) CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

RSS

Archives

We are finally at a place in the Chronicles that we can start to bring things together—the archaeology, the Chinese chronicles, and the Japanese chronicles. Mind you, there are still plenty of questions, but it certainly feels like the fog is starting to clear. There are still a few connections we will have to make, and some assumptions as well.

Chronicles

So let’s start with the Chronicles. The Kojiki doesn’t give dates, but where we are given them in the Nihon Shoki and elsewhere, they don’t make a lot of sense. Things seem to be better by the time we reach the 10th sovereign, but they still aren’t great. We are pretty sure that none of this was happening in the 1st century BCE, at least. So we’ll take that with a grain of salt—possibly throw it out altogether. Still, let’s look at where this action is taking place and how that correlates to other things we know.

You see, much of the action centers around Mt. Miwa. Specifically the god of Mt. Miwa, known as Ōmononushi no Kami, the Great Master of the People/Things. Of course, there is a lot in the Chronicles explaining the importance of Ōmononushi, including his connection with the Great Land Master, Ōkuninushi no kami, of Izumo. And in these chapters, even Amaterasu no Ōkami takes a back seat in the narrative, with just a brief mention that the two were worshipped together, but it is Ōmononushi who is sought out as both the cause and cure to the pestilence plaguing the land.

In the Chronicles, the worship of Ōmononushi was given to a man named Ōtataneko, so one would think that he would be an important figure. However, other than the sovereign, who generally takes center stage, there is another person who takes center stage. Yamato Totothi Momoso Hime, a member of the Royal Family, described as Mimaki Iribiko’s “aunt”, is described as actually marrying the god of Mt. Miwa. In addition to this, she goes on to, several times, display her prowess as a seer and shaman, helping to guide the actions of her nephew, who is nominally the actual sovereign.

The marker for the supposed site of the Shiki Mizugaki palace originally placed in the Takanuka, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Speaking of the sovereign, he is also connected to Mt. Miwa—not only by his visitations with the mountain’s god, but also his palace is said to have been in the shadow of Mt. Miwa, believed to have been near the current site of Shiki-Agatanushi-Suwa Jinja (which I translate to something along the lines of “The Shrine of the Seat of the Ancient Chieftain of Shiki”). It was considered an “old” shrine by Heian era, at leas. Whether it is the actual site of the Mizugaki palace, who knows? There is a marker, but obviously, that only really tells us what we already know, since it was erected in the Taishō era. Still, for those tracking down the ancient sites in the Nara basin, it may be some where to look into. There is also the Makimuku site, nearby, which also contains a palace in the stories—the palace of Mimaki Iribiko’s successor, the Tamagaki (or Tamaki) Palace.

We’ll discuss more about Mimaki Iribiko next episode, but there is one other feature of all of this and that is the connection between a “palace” (miya) and “shrine” (miya). Early on, they say that both Amaterasu and Ōmononushi were worshipped together in the palace. Likewise, in the discussion of Ōkuninushi during the Age of the Gods, he was given a palace to live in, which is now Izumo Taisha. This idea that the palace was where various spiritual or religious rites were held, and the fact that this palace was also at the foot of Mt. Miwa seems to add to the idea that this is the beginning of what some people call the Miwa Cult or even the Miwa Court. The previous sovereigns in the Chronicles, in contrast, all tend to have their palaces located elsewhere, especially around the Kashihara region.

Archaeology

So it is all good going on about the Chronicles, but what does the archaeology say? Well, it isn’t conclusive—remember, a lot of the evidence is things like holes in the ground that we assign a meaning to based on their characteristics and various assumptions, and many of the kofun are still off-limits to a thorough excavation—but there is a lot of evidence for activity in the area around the foot of Mt. Miwa in the Terminal Yayoi to Early Kofun period. This mostly comes from sites in a roughly 2 km strip known as the Makimuku District. Besides finding remnants of a large, pillared structure that is believed to have been an early “palace” building, there is fair amount of pottery. A key to the pottery is that much of it—about 15~30% of it—is non-local, meaning it came from outside the Nara Basin. That includes pottery—much of it cooking pots—from Eastern Honshu, the Japan Sea Coast, and the Seto Inland Sea regions. The fact that much of it is in the form of cooking pots suggests that it was not just imported prestige goods, but likely brought by people from those regions as part of their everyday supplies and household goods. That suggests that a lot of people from the nearby areas of the archipelago were coming to live in this region, around the foot of Mt. Miwa in the SE Nara Basin.

Then, of course, there are the kofun themselves. While some of the kofun—often the largest ones that we suspect would provide some of the most information, were we able to prove or disprove their connection to any given sovereign—are off limits to us, archaeologically speaking, there are a fair number that have been explored. Together with information that has been found through excavation, characteristics such as the shape, any ceramics found on or near, and similar things can give us information about when they were built. Originally, it was thought that the Kofun period started about the year 300, and went from the 4th century onward. This has largely been revised to start about 250—including the latter half of the 3rd century and starting roughly around the time that Queen Himiko’s burial is mentioned.

View of Hashihaka Kofun from the side. Today, the main mound can be difficult to make out, as is covered in trees, but from the air one can see its distinctive round-keyhole shape. Photo taken and dedicated to public domain by Saigen Jiro, via Wiki… — View of Hashihaka Kofun from the side. Today, the main mound can be difficult to make out, as is covered in trees, but from the air one can see its distinctive round-keyhole shape. Photo taken and dedicated to public domain by Saigen Jiro, via Wikimedia Commons

In the process, we’ve also identified kofun that appear to be earlier—probably having been built around the mid to later 3rd century. One of the kofun identified as being from this period is the one known as Hashihaka kofun. Now it is good to remember that there is nothing that really identifies which kofun is which, and the story of Yamato Totohi Momoso Hime no Mikoto in the Chronicles doesn’t give GPS style coordinates to identify where her kofun actually is. In addition to that, it was being written down centuries after the fact, and so even if they identified the same tomb mound then as we do today, it is unclear how many of those are accurate. Certainly the supposed derivation of the name seems inaccurate as chopsticks (hashi) were probably still a century or two off. Regardless of how well we can identify a particular named kofun mound, it is significant that there are large mounds from the 3rd century in the shadow of Mt. Miwa. In fact, for this period, Hashihaka kofun is one of the largest, likely indicating a key figure—probably an ancient chieftain or sovereign, at least.

Many specialists believe that this may have been the start of the round-keyhole mounds, which have been assumed for some time to be indicative of the culture of the period. Soon after the ones in the Nara Basin are built, they begin to show up in areas elsewhere around the archipelago, either as part of the larger polity or perhaps in competition therewith, but still indicative of a cultural shift happening around this time.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are earlier tomb mounds out there. Gina Barnes refers to these as “Mounded Burials”, to distinguish the period of cultural change associated with the Kofun period. I mean, it isn’t as if people just decided one day to start burying important people under tremendously huge piles of earth. We’ve mentioned the old funkyubo, and it seems there were even some mounded burials that were reserved for a single individual. However, nothing to the extent of what we find with Hashihaka and later sites, and so Gina Barnes and others reserve the term “Mounded Tomb” for the period when we believe we have the actual start of the Mounded Tomb Culture—i.e. the Kofun period.

The Chinese Chronicles

Of course, when we talk about the Chinese Chronicles at this point we are really talking about two in particular: The Later Han and the Wei Dynasty historical chronicles. Even then, the Later Han mostly gives us an idea of what things were like in the first century or so, and that is more helpful in setting some boundaries than in fully describing what is happening in the 3rd century. Also, you may recall that despite the names, the Later Han dynasty chronicles were actually compiled much later, and may have cribbed some of their information and notes from the Wei Chronicles.

The Wei Chronicles, of course, describe Queen Himiko and her kingdom of Yamato/Yamatai. Here it is good to remember that “Yamatai” is a modern Japanese on’yomi reading of the characters used, and something much more similar to “Yamato” would have likely been based on the Chinese reading at the time. Himiko (or Pimiko) was the Queen of Yamato, which appeared to be at the head of some kind of confederacy of states. The description paints her, in the eyes of many, as a female shaman, and there is an administrator—recorded as her younger brother, though it is unclear how well that particular term would have suited him—who is said to have helped her. Together they sent embassies to the commanderies on the Korean peninsula and thence onward to the Wei capital.

Now, the Wei Chronicles refer to Yamato and the various polities in the confederation as “states” or “guo”. Today, this is used for countries, like China, Japan, and the US. But at this time, it probably had a meaning more along the lines of “political unit” with a hierarchy and administrator or ruler, but it is unclear just how strict they were being. A good analogy may be the way that the early European descriptions of Japan often referred to the daimyō as “kings”, a term that today we tend to associate with much greater authority than most daimyō could lay legitimate claim to. For this reason, many people are wary of using the term “state” for the early political units that we see, and reserve that for the period when Japan adopts a continental style system of administration, known as the ritsuryō. Until then, we might see reference to the Yamato Seiken, for the area under Yamato control, or even a reference to simply the Yamato Chōtei, or the Yamato Court.

Regardless of what we call it, there seem to be two things we can know: First, that the Wei court believed it to be one of the dominant political unit in the area, and second, that it did not go unchallenged. There is reference to another entity, against which Queen Himiko was contending, and which may have even prompted her attempt to reach out for assistance from the mainland. Even in the Chronicles we see that there is still conflict and disorder in the land—despite the earlier accounts, there has not really been a single, lasting administration that has demonstrated hegemony over the three main islands of the archipelago.

Conflict Between the Sources

Of course, for all that it seems nice and wrapped up, above, there is still plenty of conflict between our sources of information. For one thing, the dating in the Japanese Chronicles is a huge problem point. The dates are clearly fictional, but how can we even begin to correlate them to a reasonable period? We cannot ignore that some of the “adjustments” made to the dates in the Nihon Shoki are motivated by a desire to match up what was written down with what we see in the archaeological and continental records. Is this fair? That’s a good question. Some have proposed other dating systems—for instance, assuming an average reign length of only 10 years for the sovereigns that appeared before those we can trace to other sources or have a fair reason to believe are accurate. This pulls everything much further forward in time, and disconnects us completely from the Wei Chronicles. According to this theory, Himiko would have been a forerunner of Mimaki Iribiko, lost to the depths of time, explaining her absence in the Japanese histories.

Of course, some dating systems would pull Mimaki Iribiko no Mikoto up, but not quite that far. Some have suggested that he might be one of the earlier referenced individuals—a predecessor to Queen Himiko, whose absence then remains a mystery.

Speaking of which, where is Himiko? I know we’ve spent a lot of time talking about it, but it really is the piece that generates perhaps the most debate and discussion. How could she have been so powerful as to send envoys to the Wei court and be counted the “Queen of the Wa”, but then not appear anywhere in the Japanese histories?

Some of this we go into the podcast, so I encourage listeners to go there first and come back here afterwards, and we’ll cover some of the same ground. Of course, we cannot discount the fact that when writing did come over, it came with other continental concepts, such as patriarchal concepts of what and who a ruler should be, which would have influenced the opinions of those putting together all of these ancient stories and anecdotes. Also, if they were using genealogical records, which seems clearly to be the case, the lines appear to be traced through the father, and even then, if Himiko didn’t have any children of her own, would she have even appeared in the genealogical record? One would hardly think that she wouldn’t, given her apparent status.

And of course, her name in the Wei Chronicles could be little more than a title—possibly even a misheard or improperly recorded title at that. Many point to the idea that “Himiko” could simply be “Child of the Sun” or a shortening of titles like “HIme no MIKOto”. And so it is possible she was identified by some other name entirely in the Japanese traditions. I’d argue it is also possible, though unlikely, that the name may not have had the kinds of gender signifiers that later Japanese chroniclers would recognize. If so, perhaps she was misgendered, and shows up as an entirely different figure.

It also occurs to me that it is possible she was part of some other polity—perhaps she was the impetus behind the story of Take Haniyasu and was part of a competing lineage group. Many of the mirrors from around that time have been traced back to a kofun in the northern part of the Nara Basin, Tsubai Ōtsukayama, in Yamashiro. Still, if that were the case, wouldn’t we expect to see that noted in the Wei histories, rather than having a young relative take the throne soon thereafter? And why would the name be the same? Himiko’s rivals were from another polity altogether, it would seem, not Yamato, unless that was just a fiction in how she depicted it to the Wei court.

And, of course, there is another problem with the sources—why don’t the Japanese chronicles mention the embassies to the mainland? One would think those would be quite prominent. And they should have known about them—later they quote from them during the reign of a later sovereign. Of course, with the timing that they’ve given everything, perhaps they couldn’t figure out where it actually fit in the timeline and so ignored it. It is quite likely that most of the anecdotal information was extremely disjointed, only tied in by the names of individuals who were mentioned. If those individuals were “placed” in the wrong time it might be hard to match up with the Wei records. And of course, the Chroniclers were probably more concerned about the believed truth of the royal lineage in their own time than they were about what the facts were like centuries ago.

Conclusion

For my part, I still lean towards the idea that Himiko is, in fact, Yamato Totohi Momoso Hime, or at least the latter is a cognate for the former. I suspect that she was part of a ruling pair in the southern Nara basin at the foot of Mt. Miwa. She was in charge of spiritual affairs while her co-ruler would have overseen the administrative duties, and they were likely related, if not brother and sister. At the time, her position may have been the stronger of the two, as evidenced by the work that went into her tomb mound. The “rival” that we hear about in the Wei history may be represented by another ruling pair—Take Haniyasu and Ata Bime, in Yamashiro. That conflict was likely not quite so cut and dry as it is made out to be, the messy realities of history having been likely smoothed over in favor of a simpler narrative. As for the next “Queen” that follows her, Iyo (or, possibly, Toyo)? Perhaps they are referring to Toyosuki Hime, the princess who was sent to worship Amaterasu, or even Yamato Hime, who we’ll get to know in the reign of the next sovereign, Again, things aren’t perfect, and their roles may have been largely forgotten and repurposed to the story of Amaterasu, but it is something to consider. Either way, if they did not have children of their own, they may have not made it into the genealogical lists, which could also explain much of this confusion.

So that’s all for this episode. I hope you enjoyed it. We are going to pick up next time with the continuation of Mimaki Iribiko’s story.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Kishimoto, Naofumi (2013). Dual Kingship in the Kofun Period as Seen from the Keyhole Tombs. UrbanScope: e-Journal of the Urban-Culture Research Center, OCU. http://urbanscope.lit.osaka-cu.ac.jp/journal/pdf/vol004/01-kishimoto.pdf
Barnes, Gina L. (2007). State Formation in Japan: Emergence of a 4th-Century Ruling Elite. Routlede. ISBN 9780415596282
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9
Kidder, J. Edward (2007), Himiko and Japan's Elusive Chiefdom of Yamatai: Archaeology, History, and Mythology. ISBN: 978-0824830359
Barnes, Gina L. (1988). Protohistoric Yamato: Archaeology of the First Japanese State. ISBN 0-915703-11-4
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Ledyard, G. (1975). Galloping along with the horseriders: looking for the founders of Japan. Journal of Japanese Studies. 1: 217-254
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Rough Transcript

References

References

Dramatis Personae

Locations

The Eastern Campaign

References

Map of the Campaign

Armor and Weapons of the Early 4th Century

Dramatis Personae

Locations of Interest

Rough Transcript

References

明けましておめでとうございます！ Happy New Year, everyone!

On Sumō

Ise Grand Shrine

Isonokami

The Introduction of Oranges to Japan

References

Dramatis Personae

On the subject of titles and honorifics

References

About “Kara” v. “Gaya”

References

On Kibi

References

Chronicles

Archaeology

The Chinese Chronicles

Conflict Between the Sources

Conclusion

References