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The Prince in Waiting

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Content provided by Joshua Badgley and Sengoku Daimyo. All podcast content including episodes, graphics, and podcast descriptions are uploaded and provided directly by Joshua Badgley and Sengoku Daimyo or their podcast platform partner. If you believe someone is using your copyrighted work without your permission, you can follow the process outlined here https://ro.player.fm/legal.

Covering the end of Wakatake's reign, including a recap of how we got here, and the transition to the next sovereign, Prince Shiraga. You can find more information at https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-64/

Rough Transcript:

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan! My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 64: The Prince in Waiting.

In this episode, I’m going to focus on the very end of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno’s, reign, and the question of his successor and the various high-ranking individuals that helped out that successor. But I’m going to start off this episode with a recap of sorts – of all the sovereigns we’ve talked about so far, at least the notable ones, that have brought us up to this date. Of course, this focuses on the sovereigns because that is the information we typically have. For the most part, particularly in the more legendary parts of the Chronicle, only the birth and death of the sovereigns are worth mentioning, and other characters appear only when they impact the story of the royal line, but we should take the time to realize that there were so many different individuals who were actually working to take things forward. This is often an issue for us, as we try to tell a story that people will actually be able to follow—the more names, the more difficult it can be to track what is going on, but that is also the complexity of real history. And so I hope you’ll forgive a summary that focuses largely on the reigns of different sovereigns that the Chroniclers found to be important during their time.

As we’ve heard throughout our tour of the Chronicles to-date, certain rulers stand out. Iware Biko, aka Jimmu Tennou, purportedly founded Yamato through conquest, marching—or perhaps rowing—his way up the Seto Inland Sea from Himuka, in Kyushu, and making a claim to the Nara Basin, displacing the locals, the ancestors of the Mononobe and Owari families. After nine truly unremarkable sovereigns, we then found ourselves in the time of the legendary sovereigns Mimaki and Ikume, the Iribiko dynasty, aka Sujin and Suinin Tennou. They ruled at the base of Mt. Miwa, associated with a powerful early Kofun era culture with links across the archipelago. Their reigns were filled with building early structures of statehood, conquest, and intercourse with the continent—in all likelihood based on events surrounding the rise of Yamato around the time of the historical Queen Himiko.

At this time, we know that intercession with spiritual powers was important to rulership, and the role of sovereign may have even been shared with co-rulers, who handled more of the mundane administration aspects. We regularly saw pairs of rulers, either male and female hiko-hime pairs, or else elder and younger ye-oto arrangements. It is not entirely clear what the actual relationship between these individuals were—if they were blood relatives, or married, or if it was some other power sharing arrangement.

Ohotarashi’s reign, meanwhile, was overshadowed by the warrior-prince, Wo-usu, more popularly known as Yamato Takeru, the Brave of Yamato. Though Yamato Takeru perished and never ruled, we are told that the new lineage that came to the throne after the death of Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka Seimu Tennou, claimed descent from the Brave of Yamato.

Of this next lineage, the Sovereign Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou, was credited with her own controversial military campaigns. Some claim she was a fictional character, created to explain continental claims of Himiko, and the official Chronicles only give her the status of regent—not of sovereign proper. However, they still have her ruling well into the time of her son, Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, with the help of her close advisor and prime minister, Takeuchi no Sukune.

Homuda Wake seems another pivotal figure, and he would eventually be canonized as the kami, Hachiman. Besides apparently sharing rule with his mother, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, Homuda Wake would later give administrative responsibility of the realm to his son, Ohosazaki, while appointing another son as Crown Prince.

Eventually, Ohosazaki, would come to the throne, where he is known to us as Nintoku Tennou. He is traditionally said to be buried in Daisen Kofun, one of the three largest mausoleums in the world—though there are those who question this designation. The next several sovereigns are said to be sons of Ohosazaki—Izaho Wake, Midzuha Wake, and Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ritchuu Tennou, Hanzei Tennou, and Ingyou Tennou. Then there is Woasatsuma’s son, Anaho, aka Ankou Tennou, and while there are certainly various interesting stories during these reigns, none of these sovereigns seem to measure up to the sovereign who follows—Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, who is the sovereign we’ve been discussing for the last few episodes.

Or at least the next official sovereign. Prince Ichinohe may have actually ruled for some period of time, but Wakatake killed him and his other brothers on his bloody climb up to the throne.

Somewhere in all of this was a series of envoys sent to the Liu Song court, which we assume came from Yamato, but which may have been from various other Wa groups—though the narrative certainly seems to indicate that they were all seen as rulers over the same territory and groups.

So, now where do things stand at the end of Wakatake’s reign?

Well, early on, Wakatake had taken the territory of Katsuraki—the area associated with individuals like Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko and his daughter and eventually royal queen of Yamato, Iwa Hime. In so doing, as he burned down the house of Tsubura no Oho-omi, he took Tsubura’s daughter, Kara Hime, as his own consort. Later we hear of various miraculous events that occurred in and around Katsuraki, further foot-stomping its importance. Of course, while never recognized, officially, as a queen, Kara-hime’s daughter Waka Hime, aka Takuhata Hime, was sent to be the Priestess at Ise, and her son, Prince Shiraga, would become Crown Prince and would eventually be given the keys to the kingdom even during his father’s reign, much as Ohosazaki had been given administrative control while Homuda Wake still reigned.

Before that, though, Wakatake apparently consolidated Yamato control of various industries throughout the archipelago, organizing various industries into the familial “Be” structures, putting disparate individuals together under a centralized organization based on constructed familial ties. Some of these were groups of people from the continent, bringing in new technologies, but some were local industries, such as clayworking, or even raising horses or keeping game birds. And that always gets me, because it just seems so wild from a modern perspective—to just gather up various people of a given industry and making them all relatives by simple fiat, setting up a family head that then reports to the court. In this way, even without direct control over the various local rulers, Yamato influence is further expanded.

And, of course, those other rulers still had some influence. Kibi, in particular, is mentioned time and again in ways that run counter to the interests of the Yamato court, both in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula. Now, unsurprisingly, the Chroniclers don’t exactly mention any victories by Kibi or others—the lopsided view of what is going on in the archipelago is going to be a constant blind spot for us, at least up through the 8th century and even beyond, as so many of our sources come from those in the center and not on the peripheries.

Although many of the stories from this period still focus on the areas around Yamato and Kawachi, it is also clear, both from the Chronicles and from the reports in the history of the Liu Song, that the Wa—by which we suppose Yamato—was still very active on the Korean peninsula as well. Clearly, the animosity with Silla continued, but towards the end of Wakatake’s reign, attempts to chastise Silla seem to have failed, falling apart due to the bickering and infighting of the various generals—an issue that would plague Hideyoshi’s attempts to take the peninsula over a thousand years later.

And so, despite their apparent military might, it seems that towards the end of the reign, Wa power may not have been seen as quite as powerful as before, such that when their ally, Baekje, suffered an existential threat from Goguryeo they sent out a request not to Yamato, but rather to their adversarial neighbor, Silla. Granted, this could have been as much to do with distances, or even the possibility that there were already Wa troops in Baekje assisting with its defense.

Unfortunately, whatever help Baekje had been able to gather, it wasn’t enough. Baekje’s capital at Wiryeseong, near modern day Seoul, fell to Goguryeo in 475 in fighting that resulted in the death of King Gaero and the capture and imprisonment of all of his sons. Still, the Wa had a role to play, and the Nihon Shoki describes how Yamato once again helped restore the broken Baekje dynasty by supporting King Munju, King Gaero’s younger brother on his mother’s side,whom the Samguk Sagi claims was the one sent to negotiate with Silla for assistance.

This whole episode led to Baekje re-establishing their capital farther to the south, at Ungjin, in modern day Gongju. Ungjin is also apparently known as Gomanaru, which bears a striking resemblance to the name “Kumanari”, which the Nihon Shoki claims was given by Yamato to Baekje at this time. This is, as one can imagine, a bit of a controversial statement. It is more likely that “Kumanari” referred to some part of Nimna, and may have been territory controlled by “Wa” or their allies without necessarily being directly controlled by the distant Yamato court. However it came to be, King Munju ascended the Baekje throne, and kept the dynasty going from the new southern capital.

As a side-note, both the Samguk Sagi and the Samguk Yusa claim that Munju was actually the son of the late King Gaero, but as noted, early, the Nihon Shoki states that he was actually Gaero’s brother, instead. That is backed up by the fact that the Samguk Sagi claims that all of Gaero’s children were imprisoned and taken to Goguryeo, as well as the fact that Munju is said to have “Risen to the position of Senior Counselor, something typically not done for princes at the time, as their status as princes and possible heirs to the throne would have been enough.

There is also the little fact of Konji, sent to the archipelago in 461, who was said to be the younger brother of King Gaero, at least according to the Nihon Shoki and later Japanese sources. In the Samguk Sagi they claim that Konji was actually the younger brother to Mujun. If the Samguk Sagi is correct, and Munju was Gaero’s son, then perhaps we have here another son of Gaero, who also wasn’t taken to Goguryeo, by some chance. On the other hand, if the Nihon Shoki is correct, then Konji may have been brother to both Mujun and Gaero, which all lines up nicely.

Despite successfully setting up the new capital, things in Baekje were not going well. Even with the recent attacks by Goguryeo, politics in Baekje were cutthroat—quite literally in this case. In 477, in the third year of King Munju’s rule, he was assassinated by his own Minister of War, Hae Ku, who set himself up as regent for the reign of Munju’s thirteen year old son, King Samgeun. That would only have been a temporary solution, and in 478 Hae Ku revolted and the Baekje court had to twice send armies out to subdue him, eventually putting him to death. But Samgeun would not get long to enjoy this victory, as he perished around 479.

Word of Samgeun’s death reached Yamato, who once again offered their support. As Samgeun had apparently died childless, Yamato supported Tongseong for the throne. Tongseong, who would be known as King Modae, was a son of Konji, younger brother of King Munju—and possible King Gaero. The Nihon Shoki claims that Modae was born in Yamato when his father was sent there back in 461, and when they heard that Samgeun had died they sent Modae back with some 500 soldiers as reinforcements—once again supporting their ally militarily. Of course, this is not mentioned in the Samguk Sagi, who merely mentions that Modae, son of Konji, took the throne.

And so we can see that between 475 and 479, Baekje wasn’t doing so great, going through three sovereigns in only four years. This was clearly a violent and turbulent age.

Back on the archipelago, Wakatake had certainly been hotheaded in his youth, going to war at the drop of a hat, and quick to respond with violence to the slightest offense. Over time, however, this mellowed, and Wakatake is pictured as even having regret in some of the later stories.

Towards the end of his reign, Wakatake also had gathered around him a court of powerful nobles. At the head of his government may very well have been Ohotomo no Muroya no Ohomuraji—interesting in that the Ohotomo were Muraji and not Omi, but so were the powerful Mononobe family at this time, at the height of their power.

At the start of the reign, Wakatake actually elevated the ranks of three individuals. First there was Heguri no Oho-omi no Matori, who would seem to be the highest ranking of the three. He was a descendant of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi. That said, he seems to have relatively little impact, and he really doesn’t get much mention until later reigns.

Second was Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Me—whom we’ve mentioned previously as the head—eventually at least—of the powerful Mononobe family, who were coming to the height of their power. He had several mentions throughout the reign, but mentions of him go silent towards the end. Perhaps he passed away, or was out of favor with the court. Unfortunately, as I noted earlier, the information on many of these individuals is fragmentary at best, and so we really don’t know what happened.

Finally there was Ohotomo no Ohomuraji no Muroya—sometimes referred to as “Muruya” or “Moriya”, but in looking at the spelling in the Nihon Shoki, Muroya seems to be appropriate. Muroya was no newbie to the court. Back in the reign of Woasatsuma, aka Ingyo Tennou, Wakatake’s father, Muroya had helped set up the Fujiwara-Be for Woasatsuma’s mistress, Sotohori Hime—that woman that his wife could not stand but whom Woasatsuma kept making excuses to go and see.

In the reign of Wakatake, Muroya was taking on a larger role, as indicated by his rise in rank to the head of the Ohotomo house and title of Ohomuraji. Muroya would be the one to put to death Iketsu Hime of Baekje, sent to be an Uneme, but she had an affair before reaching the court.

Later, when the Imaki artisans were brought over from Baekje, Muroya was responsible for resettling them after disease broke out and they needed to socially distance the survivors.

Muroya also had a peripheral role in Wakatake’s great campaign against Silla. He interceded with Wakatake to get an Uneme for Ki no Woyumi, and later is involved with requests for the burial mound of the same. One of the generals, the ill-fated Ohotomo no Katari, who would die in the early assaults on Silla, was no doubt related—possibly even his son.

In all of this, with perhaps the exception of the story of Sotohori Hime, Muroya and the Ohotomo in general are involved with various things involving the continent—be it Silla or Baekje. Of course, there are some mentions of the Ohotomo and their ancestors before this, often in a military context, but this reign seems to really see their rise with Muroya.

It was into this mix that Wakatake, feeling his age, is said to have handed over the reigns of government to his son, Prince Shiraga, and, at the same time, Ohotomo no Muroya was raised up above the other courtiers, despite the power and influence of the Mononobe. Shiraga was put in charge of rewards and punishments, as well as financial matters—in other words, he held the purse strings as well as control over any possible promotions. Muroya, on the other hand, was given general administrative command, along with Yamato-Aya no Tsuka no Atahe, who had previously helped Muroya move the Imaki families of Baekje. In this case, though, Tsuka appears to be little more than a general dogsbody for Muroya, and it was Muroya who was truly in power.

And so, where do we stand at the very end of Wakatake’s reign?

Wakatake is still sovereign, but his age and health are failing. No longer is he the dynamic, hot headed youth whose hand needed to be stayed by cooler, wiser heads. He is leaving Yamato, if not the entire archipelago, in an arguably more solidified state, with more centralized control through a growing force of family and corporate group leaders that controlled key military and economic sectors of society.

Meanwhile, despite apparently strong military operations on the peninsula, Yamato’s own influence seems to have wavered, there. This may have been as much due to growth of the peninsular powers as any missteps on Yamato’s end.

As Wakatake withdraws, he iss ensuring his legacy by placing his son, Shiraga, in charge, with the expert aid of senior, experienced couriers, such as Ōtomo no Muroya. And yet, this is still a tumultuous time.

Baekje had been devastated in 475, relocating their capital and rebuilding after Goguryeo’s punishing attack that saw the death of King Gaero. The Liu Song would not be too far behind, falling to their own internal pressures.

And so the death of Wakatake in 479 comes during a period of great uncertainty, and despite all the precautions that had been taken, the threat of violence continues to hang over the transition.

In the countryside, the Nihon Shoki tells us that the Emishi grew restless. These weren't the Emishi of Tōhoku, however. These were Emishi around Kibi. It is unclear if they were Emishi who had been enslaved in the east and resettled in Western Honshu, or simply groups living outside of the Yamato hegemony; certainly in later centuries that would seen to be the definition.

Either way, they saw their chance to establish some kind of independence. Five hundred of them gathered together, and we are told they began raiding nearby districts.

Around this same time, Oshiro, of the Kibi no Omi, was returning home. Oshiro had been one of the Wa generals in the expedition against Silla, and one can imagine that he did not return alone.

Nonetheless, 500 Emishi is a daunting number for this period. You may recall that a punitive force against a rebellious Kibi lord was comprised of only about 30 individuals. On the other hand, peninsular conflicts were being recorded that would seem to involve much larger forces.

Oshiro must have felt he had enough, though, as he began to pursue the Emishi, starting in the West, at Port Saba, in Suwo, near the modern day city of Houfu, towards the western end of the Seto Inland Sea. As he and his men fired on the Emishi with their bows, the Emishi skillfully jumped out of the way, which almost sounds like something out of a Loony Tunes show. He continued shooting, blowing through two cases of arrows, until he completely ran dry, at which point he kept shooting the bow—and apparently he took out two companies of Emishi. This latter feat, a clear exaggeration of Oshiro’s martial prowess, was a common trope in old stories, where some archers were so skilled they could take out enemies with just the sound of the bowstring. Let's see Hawkeye try that trick shot!

By the way, dry firing a bow like this would also be used to pacify spirits, and in later centuries we’ll see stories of archers twanging their bows at night to keep evil spirits at bay.

And so there Oshiro was, dry firing his bow, but he knew that would only go so far. He called on his boatmen to bring him resupplies, but they were afraid—as I noted, earlier, 500 Emishi was not an insignificant number. And so they fled, taking their boats with them.

And so there was Oshiro and his men. They were out of arrows, except perhaps those fired at them by their enemies. His boatmen had fled, taking any spare arrows and hope of escape. One can imagine Oshiro’s men wondering if the sailors didn't have the right idea. The general had to push his men onward in the fight, and so he got in front of them, turned his bow upside down, and composed a poem on the spot.

Michi ni Afuya / Wosiro no ko / Amo ni koso / kikoezu arame / kuni ni ha / Kikoete na

“He met them on the way, / The Child of Oshiro! / It is only in Heaven / that he will be unheard of / For you will hear of him / Here on Earth!”

The translation may not trip forth as cleanly as Shakespeare’s words in the mouth of Henry the V on St. Crispin’s Day, but the defiance and sheer will and intent ring out clear as day, so that even today he is remembered and heard of once more, as we speak of him, now.

Oshiro’s men rallied to their leader’s boasts, and they took the fight to the enemy in hand to hand combat. Eventually they pushed the Emishi back and caused a rout, pushing their foes eastward, all the way to the shores of Uragake, in Tamba, modern Kyotango city in Kyoto prefecture, where Oshiro’s men slew all the remaining Emishi in what Aston translates as a “massacre”.

This incredible campaign is placed at the very end of Wakatake’s reign in the Nihon Shoki, after the death of the sovereign himself. It is a fantastical account that very likely was much more limited in scope than the expansive take we are given. On the other hand, there likely were such attempts to shake the rule of Yamato or any of the other early states that were forming. This could even be more a story of Kibi, who were at the height of their own power at this time. If so, it indicates possible Kibi influence across much of Western Honshu and all the way to the Japan sea

Either way, it seems a fitting end to the reign of Wakatake; a book end of violence, capping off a reign that began in murder and fratricide.

Speaking of which, it wasn’t merely the Emishi that were plotting something at this time. You see, even though Wakatake had transferred the government before his death, investing his son, Prince Shiraga, as his clear successor, and giving administration of the government over to the Ōtomo no Ōmuraji, Muroya, not everyone was pleased. Even Wakatake seems to have warned of it in his deathbed: the royal family of Yamato still had a tradition of challenging the successor to the throne, a tradition that even Wakatake had upheld in his own way, despite his attempts to prevent it.

In this case the threat came from none other than the Kibi side of the family: Prince Hoshikawa. Hoshikawa’s mother was none other than Kibi no Wakahime, the former wife to Tasa no Omi of Upper Kibi. You may recall that Tasa was sent away—or possibly killed—because Wakatake sought to take his wife for his own. Of course, Wakahime had never been the Queen, but so what? Neither had Shiraga’s mother, Karahime. So why shouldn't her son, Hoshikawa, take the throne?

She planted this idea in Hoshikawa's head, suggesting that if he wanted to take the throne for himself, Prince Hoshikawa should take over the Treasury. Hoshikawa listened to this plan and ran with it. When his older brother, Prince Iwaki, heard about it, he urged his brother not to do anything, but Hoshikawa would not be dissuaded.

And so he took the Treasury, locked the doors, and fortified his position. He then began to act as the sovereign ruler, handing out disbursements and generally depleting the Treasury, probably in an attempt to buy the loyalty of enough powerful court nobles that they would recognize him as the rightful ruler, rather than his brother.

Immediately, once he heard what was happening, Muroya reached out to his trusty aide de camp, Tsuka, of the Yamato no Aya, and had him draw up men to resist this usurpation. They gathered men loyal to the court of Shiraga and they besieged the Treasury building.

Now perhaps Kibi no Wakahime and her son, Prince Hoshikawa, figured they were safe. After all, if Muroya and his forces attached, they risked destroying the total treasures as well. But if that was their thinking, they had really misjudged Muroya.

And here’s where we perhaps get a glimpse of just why Wakatake had chosen Muroya in the first place. He was a military man, accustomed to war and a loyal pragmatist. Treasure in the hands of enemies to the throne was all but worthless, and he may have just considered it already lost. In any event, he had his men light a fire and burn the entire structure to the ground, along with everyone inside. That included Prince Hoshikawa and his entire family, including his mother, Kibi no Wakahime, and his brother, Prince Iwaki, as well as his half-brother, Yegimi. They even had Ki no Okazaki and his forces, possibly enticed by the promise of reward. They all perished in the flames.

Once again, we see a conflict involving Kibi, lending further credence to the idea that Kibi may have been pushing against Yamato power and flexing their own military might. And it is worth remembering that it was anything but a foregone conclusion that Yamato would emerge the sole ruling authority in the archipelago. Of course, we only have Yamato’s point of view for all of this, and even that was coming well after the events in question, with the full benefit of knowing just how things would play out, but at the time I doubt it was quite that clear cut.

And with that, I think we can bring this to a close. Shiraga is on the throne, and was probably co-ruling some time before that, and the Chroniclers will name him Seinei Tennou. We’ll look more at his reign and what comes next, soon enough.

And, so, until next episode, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends—word of mouth really is the best way to let people know about things like this. Also feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, find us on Patreon, or find links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.

Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.

And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

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Content provided by Joshua Badgley and Sengoku Daimyo. All podcast content including episodes, graphics, and podcast descriptions are uploaded and provided directly by Joshua Badgley and Sengoku Daimyo or their podcast platform partner. If you believe someone is using your copyrighted work without your permission, you can follow the process outlined here https://ro.player.fm/legal.

Covering the end of Wakatake's reign, including a recap of how we got here, and the transition to the next sovereign, Prince Shiraga. You can find more information at https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-64/

Rough Transcript:

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan! My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 64: The Prince in Waiting.

In this episode, I’m going to focus on the very end of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno’s, reign, and the question of his successor and the various high-ranking individuals that helped out that successor. But I’m going to start off this episode with a recap of sorts – of all the sovereigns we’ve talked about so far, at least the notable ones, that have brought us up to this date. Of course, this focuses on the sovereigns because that is the information we typically have. For the most part, particularly in the more legendary parts of the Chronicle, only the birth and death of the sovereigns are worth mentioning, and other characters appear only when they impact the story of the royal line, but we should take the time to realize that there were so many different individuals who were actually working to take things forward. This is often an issue for us, as we try to tell a story that people will actually be able to follow—the more names, the more difficult it can be to track what is going on, but that is also the complexity of real history. And so I hope you’ll forgive a summary that focuses largely on the reigns of different sovereigns that the Chroniclers found to be important during their time.

As we’ve heard throughout our tour of the Chronicles to-date, certain rulers stand out. Iware Biko, aka Jimmu Tennou, purportedly founded Yamato through conquest, marching—or perhaps rowing—his way up the Seto Inland Sea from Himuka, in Kyushu, and making a claim to the Nara Basin, displacing the locals, the ancestors of the Mononobe and Owari families. After nine truly unremarkable sovereigns, we then found ourselves in the time of the legendary sovereigns Mimaki and Ikume, the Iribiko dynasty, aka Sujin and Suinin Tennou. They ruled at the base of Mt. Miwa, associated with a powerful early Kofun era culture with links across the archipelago. Their reigns were filled with building early structures of statehood, conquest, and intercourse with the continent—in all likelihood based on events surrounding the rise of Yamato around the time of the historical Queen Himiko.

At this time, we know that intercession with spiritual powers was important to rulership, and the role of sovereign may have even been shared with co-rulers, who handled more of the mundane administration aspects. We regularly saw pairs of rulers, either male and female hiko-hime pairs, or else elder and younger ye-oto arrangements. It is not entirely clear what the actual relationship between these individuals were—if they were blood relatives, or married, or if it was some other power sharing arrangement.

Ohotarashi’s reign, meanwhile, was overshadowed by the warrior-prince, Wo-usu, more popularly known as Yamato Takeru, the Brave of Yamato. Though Yamato Takeru perished and never ruled, we are told that the new lineage that came to the throne after the death of Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka Seimu Tennou, claimed descent from the Brave of Yamato.

Of this next lineage, the Sovereign Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou, was credited with her own controversial military campaigns. Some claim she was a fictional character, created to explain continental claims of Himiko, and the official Chronicles only give her the status of regent—not of sovereign proper. However, they still have her ruling well into the time of her son, Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, with the help of her close advisor and prime minister, Takeuchi no Sukune.

Homuda Wake seems another pivotal figure, and he would eventually be canonized as the kami, Hachiman. Besides apparently sharing rule with his mother, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, Homuda Wake would later give administrative responsibility of the realm to his son, Ohosazaki, while appointing another son as Crown Prince.

Eventually, Ohosazaki, would come to the throne, where he is known to us as Nintoku Tennou. He is traditionally said to be buried in Daisen Kofun, one of the three largest mausoleums in the world—though there are those who question this designation. The next several sovereigns are said to be sons of Ohosazaki—Izaho Wake, Midzuha Wake, and Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ritchuu Tennou, Hanzei Tennou, and Ingyou Tennou. Then there is Woasatsuma’s son, Anaho, aka Ankou Tennou, and while there are certainly various interesting stories during these reigns, none of these sovereigns seem to measure up to the sovereign who follows—Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, who is the sovereign we’ve been discussing for the last few episodes.

Or at least the next official sovereign. Prince Ichinohe may have actually ruled for some period of time, but Wakatake killed him and his other brothers on his bloody climb up to the throne.

Somewhere in all of this was a series of envoys sent to the Liu Song court, which we assume came from Yamato, but which may have been from various other Wa groups—though the narrative certainly seems to indicate that they were all seen as rulers over the same territory and groups.

So, now where do things stand at the end of Wakatake’s reign?

Well, early on, Wakatake had taken the territory of Katsuraki—the area associated with individuals like Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko and his daughter and eventually royal queen of Yamato, Iwa Hime. In so doing, as he burned down the house of Tsubura no Oho-omi, he took Tsubura’s daughter, Kara Hime, as his own consort. Later we hear of various miraculous events that occurred in and around Katsuraki, further foot-stomping its importance. Of course, while never recognized, officially, as a queen, Kara-hime’s daughter Waka Hime, aka Takuhata Hime, was sent to be the Priestess at Ise, and her son, Prince Shiraga, would become Crown Prince and would eventually be given the keys to the kingdom even during his father’s reign, much as Ohosazaki had been given administrative control while Homuda Wake still reigned.

Before that, though, Wakatake apparently consolidated Yamato control of various industries throughout the archipelago, organizing various industries into the familial “Be” structures, putting disparate individuals together under a centralized organization based on constructed familial ties. Some of these were groups of people from the continent, bringing in new technologies, but some were local industries, such as clayworking, or even raising horses or keeping game birds. And that always gets me, because it just seems so wild from a modern perspective—to just gather up various people of a given industry and making them all relatives by simple fiat, setting up a family head that then reports to the court. In this way, even without direct control over the various local rulers, Yamato influence is further expanded.

And, of course, those other rulers still had some influence. Kibi, in particular, is mentioned time and again in ways that run counter to the interests of the Yamato court, both in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula. Now, unsurprisingly, the Chroniclers don’t exactly mention any victories by Kibi or others—the lopsided view of what is going on in the archipelago is going to be a constant blind spot for us, at least up through the 8th century and even beyond, as so many of our sources come from those in the center and not on the peripheries.

Although many of the stories from this period still focus on the areas around Yamato and Kawachi, it is also clear, both from the Chronicles and from the reports in the history of the Liu Song, that the Wa—by which we suppose Yamato—was still very active on the Korean peninsula as well. Clearly, the animosity with Silla continued, but towards the end of Wakatake’s reign, attempts to chastise Silla seem to have failed, falling apart due to the bickering and infighting of the various generals—an issue that would plague Hideyoshi’s attempts to take the peninsula over a thousand years later.

And so, despite their apparent military might, it seems that towards the end of the reign, Wa power may not have been seen as quite as powerful as before, such that when their ally, Baekje, suffered an existential threat from Goguryeo they sent out a request not to Yamato, but rather to their adversarial neighbor, Silla. Granted, this could have been as much to do with distances, or even the possibility that there were already Wa troops in Baekje assisting with its defense.

Unfortunately, whatever help Baekje had been able to gather, it wasn’t enough. Baekje’s capital at Wiryeseong, near modern day Seoul, fell to Goguryeo in 475 in fighting that resulted in the death of King Gaero and the capture and imprisonment of all of his sons. Still, the Wa had a role to play, and the Nihon Shoki describes how Yamato once again helped restore the broken Baekje dynasty by supporting King Munju, King Gaero’s younger brother on his mother’s side,whom the Samguk Sagi claims was the one sent to negotiate with Silla for assistance.

This whole episode led to Baekje re-establishing their capital farther to the south, at Ungjin, in modern day Gongju. Ungjin is also apparently known as Gomanaru, which bears a striking resemblance to the name “Kumanari”, which the Nihon Shoki claims was given by Yamato to Baekje at this time. This is, as one can imagine, a bit of a controversial statement. It is more likely that “Kumanari” referred to some part of Nimna, and may have been territory controlled by “Wa” or their allies without necessarily being directly controlled by the distant Yamato court. However it came to be, King Munju ascended the Baekje throne, and kept the dynasty going from the new southern capital.

As a side-note, both the Samguk Sagi and the Samguk Yusa claim that Munju was actually the son of the late King Gaero, but as noted, early, the Nihon Shoki states that he was actually Gaero’s brother, instead. That is backed up by the fact that the Samguk Sagi claims that all of Gaero’s children were imprisoned and taken to Goguryeo, as well as the fact that Munju is said to have “Risen to the position of Senior Counselor, something typically not done for princes at the time, as their status as princes and possible heirs to the throne would have been enough.

There is also the little fact of Konji, sent to the archipelago in 461, who was said to be the younger brother of King Gaero, at least according to the Nihon Shoki and later Japanese sources. In the Samguk Sagi they claim that Konji was actually the younger brother to Mujun. If the Samguk Sagi is correct, and Munju was Gaero’s son, then perhaps we have here another son of Gaero, who also wasn’t taken to Goguryeo, by some chance. On the other hand, if the Nihon Shoki is correct, then Konji may have been brother to both Mujun and Gaero, which all lines up nicely.

Despite successfully setting up the new capital, things in Baekje were not going well. Even with the recent attacks by Goguryeo, politics in Baekje were cutthroat—quite literally in this case. In 477, in the third year of King Munju’s rule, he was assassinated by his own Minister of War, Hae Ku, who set himself up as regent for the reign of Munju’s thirteen year old son, King Samgeun. That would only have been a temporary solution, and in 478 Hae Ku revolted and the Baekje court had to twice send armies out to subdue him, eventually putting him to death. But Samgeun would not get long to enjoy this victory, as he perished around 479.

Word of Samgeun’s death reached Yamato, who once again offered their support. As Samgeun had apparently died childless, Yamato supported Tongseong for the throne. Tongseong, who would be known as King Modae, was a son of Konji, younger brother of King Munju—and possible King Gaero. The Nihon Shoki claims that Modae was born in Yamato when his father was sent there back in 461, and when they heard that Samgeun had died they sent Modae back with some 500 soldiers as reinforcements—once again supporting their ally militarily. Of course, this is not mentioned in the Samguk Sagi, who merely mentions that Modae, son of Konji, took the throne.

And so we can see that between 475 and 479, Baekje wasn’t doing so great, going through three sovereigns in only four years. This was clearly a violent and turbulent age.

Back on the archipelago, Wakatake had certainly been hotheaded in his youth, going to war at the drop of a hat, and quick to respond with violence to the slightest offense. Over time, however, this mellowed, and Wakatake is pictured as even having regret in some of the later stories.

Towards the end of his reign, Wakatake also had gathered around him a court of powerful nobles. At the head of his government may very well have been Ohotomo no Muroya no Ohomuraji—interesting in that the Ohotomo were Muraji and not Omi, but so were the powerful Mononobe family at this time, at the height of their power.

At the start of the reign, Wakatake actually elevated the ranks of three individuals. First there was Heguri no Oho-omi no Matori, who would seem to be the highest ranking of the three. He was a descendant of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi. That said, he seems to have relatively little impact, and he really doesn’t get much mention until later reigns.

Second was Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Me—whom we’ve mentioned previously as the head—eventually at least—of the powerful Mononobe family, who were coming to the height of their power. He had several mentions throughout the reign, but mentions of him go silent towards the end. Perhaps he passed away, or was out of favor with the court. Unfortunately, as I noted earlier, the information on many of these individuals is fragmentary at best, and so we really don’t know what happened.

Finally there was Ohotomo no Ohomuraji no Muroya—sometimes referred to as “Muruya” or “Moriya”, but in looking at the spelling in the Nihon Shoki, Muroya seems to be appropriate. Muroya was no newbie to the court. Back in the reign of Woasatsuma, aka Ingyo Tennou, Wakatake’s father, Muroya had helped set up the Fujiwara-Be for Woasatsuma’s mistress, Sotohori Hime—that woman that his wife could not stand but whom Woasatsuma kept making excuses to go and see.

In the reign of Wakatake, Muroya was taking on a larger role, as indicated by his rise in rank to the head of the Ohotomo house and title of Ohomuraji. Muroya would be the one to put to death Iketsu Hime of Baekje, sent to be an Uneme, but she had an affair before reaching the court.

Later, when the Imaki artisans were brought over from Baekje, Muroya was responsible for resettling them after disease broke out and they needed to socially distance the survivors.

Muroya also had a peripheral role in Wakatake’s great campaign against Silla. He interceded with Wakatake to get an Uneme for Ki no Woyumi, and later is involved with requests for the burial mound of the same. One of the generals, the ill-fated Ohotomo no Katari, who would die in the early assaults on Silla, was no doubt related—possibly even his son.

In all of this, with perhaps the exception of the story of Sotohori Hime, Muroya and the Ohotomo in general are involved with various things involving the continent—be it Silla or Baekje. Of course, there are some mentions of the Ohotomo and their ancestors before this, often in a military context, but this reign seems to really see their rise with Muroya.

It was into this mix that Wakatake, feeling his age, is said to have handed over the reigns of government to his son, Prince Shiraga, and, at the same time, Ohotomo no Muroya was raised up above the other courtiers, despite the power and influence of the Mononobe. Shiraga was put in charge of rewards and punishments, as well as financial matters—in other words, he held the purse strings as well as control over any possible promotions. Muroya, on the other hand, was given general administrative command, along with Yamato-Aya no Tsuka no Atahe, who had previously helped Muroya move the Imaki families of Baekje. In this case, though, Tsuka appears to be little more than a general dogsbody for Muroya, and it was Muroya who was truly in power.

And so, where do we stand at the very end of Wakatake’s reign?

Wakatake is still sovereign, but his age and health are failing. No longer is he the dynamic, hot headed youth whose hand needed to be stayed by cooler, wiser heads. He is leaving Yamato, if not the entire archipelago, in an arguably more solidified state, with more centralized control through a growing force of family and corporate group leaders that controlled key military and economic sectors of society.

Meanwhile, despite apparently strong military operations on the peninsula, Yamato’s own influence seems to have wavered, there. This may have been as much due to growth of the peninsular powers as any missteps on Yamato’s end.

As Wakatake withdraws, he iss ensuring his legacy by placing his son, Shiraga, in charge, with the expert aid of senior, experienced couriers, such as Ōtomo no Muroya. And yet, this is still a tumultuous time.

Baekje had been devastated in 475, relocating their capital and rebuilding after Goguryeo’s punishing attack that saw the death of King Gaero. The Liu Song would not be too far behind, falling to their own internal pressures.

And so the death of Wakatake in 479 comes during a period of great uncertainty, and despite all the precautions that had been taken, the threat of violence continues to hang over the transition.

In the countryside, the Nihon Shoki tells us that the Emishi grew restless. These weren't the Emishi of Tōhoku, however. These were Emishi around Kibi. It is unclear if they were Emishi who had been enslaved in the east and resettled in Western Honshu, or simply groups living outside of the Yamato hegemony; certainly in later centuries that would seen to be the definition.

Either way, they saw their chance to establish some kind of independence. Five hundred of them gathered together, and we are told they began raiding nearby districts.

Around this same time, Oshiro, of the Kibi no Omi, was returning home. Oshiro had been one of the Wa generals in the expedition against Silla, and one can imagine that he did not return alone.

Nonetheless, 500 Emishi is a daunting number for this period. You may recall that a punitive force against a rebellious Kibi lord was comprised of only about 30 individuals. On the other hand, peninsular conflicts were being recorded that would seem to involve much larger forces.

Oshiro must have felt he had enough, though, as he began to pursue the Emishi, starting in the West, at Port Saba, in Suwo, near the modern day city of Houfu, towards the western end of the Seto Inland Sea. As he and his men fired on the Emishi with their bows, the Emishi skillfully jumped out of the way, which almost sounds like something out of a Loony Tunes show. He continued shooting, blowing through two cases of arrows, until he completely ran dry, at which point he kept shooting the bow—and apparently he took out two companies of Emishi. This latter feat, a clear exaggeration of Oshiro’s martial prowess, was a common trope in old stories, where some archers were so skilled they could take out enemies with just the sound of the bowstring. Let's see Hawkeye try that trick shot!

By the way, dry firing a bow like this would also be used to pacify spirits, and in later centuries we’ll see stories of archers twanging their bows at night to keep evil spirits at bay.

And so there Oshiro was, dry firing his bow, but he knew that would only go so far. He called on his boatmen to bring him resupplies, but they were afraid—as I noted, earlier, 500 Emishi was not an insignificant number. And so they fled, taking their boats with them.

And so there was Oshiro and his men. They were out of arrows, except perhaps those fired at them by their enemies. His boatmen had fled, taking any spare arrows and hope of escape. One can imagine Oshiro’s men wondering if the sailors didn't have the right idea. The general had to push his men onward in the fight, and so he got in front of them, turned his bow upside down, and composed a poem on the spot.

Michi ni Afuya / Wosiro no ko / Amo ni koso / kikoezu arame / kuni ni ha / Kikoete na

“He met them on the way, / The Child of Oshiro! / It is only in Heaven / that he will be unheard of / For you will hear of him / Here on Earth!”

The translation may not trip forth as cleanly as Shakespeare’s words in the mouth of Henry the V on St. Crispin’s Day, but the defiance and sheer will and intent ring out clear as day, so that even today he is remembered and heard of once more, as we speak of him, now.

Oshiro’s men rallied to their leader’s boasts, and they took the fight to the enemy in hand to hand combat. Eventually they pushed the Emishi back and caused a rout, pushing their foes eastward, all the way to the shores of Uragake, in Tamba, modern Kyotango city in Kyoto prefecture, where Oshiro’s men slew all the remaining Emishi in what Aston translates as a “massacre”.

This incredible campaign is placed at the very end of Wakatake’s reign in the Nihon Shoki, after the death of the sovereign himself. It is a fantastical account that very likely was much more limited in scope than the expansive take we are given. On the other hand, there likely were such attempts to shake the rule of Yamato or any of the other early states that were forming. This could even be more a story of Kibi, who were at the height of their own power at this time. If so, it indicates possible Kibi influence across much of Western Honshu and all the way to the Japan sea

Either way, it seems a fitting end to the reign of Wakatake; a book end of violence, capping off a reign that began in murder and fratricide.

Speaking of which, it wasn’t merely the Emishi that were plotting something at this time. You see, even though Wakatake had transferred the government before his death, investing his son, Prince Shiraga, as his clear successor, and giving administration of the government over to the Ōtomo no Ōmuraji, Muroya, not everyone was pleased. Even Wakatake seems to have warned of it in his deathbed: the royal family of Yamato still had a tradition of challenging the successor to the throne, a tradition that even Wakatake had upheld in his own way, despite his attempts to prevent it.

In this case the threat came from none other than the Kibi side of the family: Prince Hoshikawa. Hoshikawa’s mother was none other than Kibi no Wakahime, the former wife to Tasa no Omi of Upper Kibi. You may recall that Tasa was sent away—or possibly killed—because Wakatake sought to take his wife for his own. Of course, Wakahime had never been the Queen, but so what? Neither had Shiraga’s mother, Karahime. So why shouldn't her son, Hoshikawa, take the throne?

She planted this idea in Hoshikawa's head, suggesting that if he wanted to take the throne for himself, Prince Hoshikawa should take over the Treasury. Hoshikawa listened to this plan and ran with it. When his older brother, Prince Iwaki, heard about it, he urged his brother not to do anything, but Hoshikawa would not be dissuaded.

And so he took the Treasury, locked the doors, and fortified his position. He then began to act as the sovereign ruler, handing out disbursements and generally depleting the Treasury, probably in an attempt to buy the loyalty of enough powerful court nobles that they would recognize him as the rightful ruler, rather than his brother.

Immediately, once he heard what was happening, Muroya reached out to his trusty aide de camp, Tsuka, of the Yamato no Aya, and had him draw up men to resist this usurpation. They gathered men loyal to the court of Shiraga and they besieged the Treasury building.

Now perhaps Kibi no Wakahime and her son, Prince Hoshikawa, figured they were safe. After all, if Muroya and his forces attached, they risked destroying the total treasures as well. But if that was their thinking, they had really misjudged Muroya.

And here’s where we perhaps get a glimpse of just why Wakatake had chosen Muroya in the first place. He was a military man, accustomed to war and a loyal pragmatist. Treasure in the hands of enemies to the throne was all but worthless, and he may have just considered it already lost. In any event, he had his men light a fire and burn the entire structure to the ground, along with everyone inside. That included Prince Hoshikawa and his entire family, including his mother, Kibi no Wakahime, and his brother, Prince Iwaki, as well as his half-brother, Yegimi. They even had Ki no Okazaki and his forces, possibly enticed by the promise of reward. They all perished in the flames.

Once again, we see a conflict involving Kibi, lending further credence to the idea that Kibi may have been pushing against Yamato power and flexing their own military might. And it is worth remembering that it was anything but a foregone conclusion that Yamato would emerge the sole ruling authority in the archipelago. Of course, we only have Yamato’s point of view for all of this, and even that was coming well after the events in question, with the full benefit of knowing just how things would play out, but at the time I doubt it was quite that clear cut.

And with that, I think we can bring this to a close. Shiraga is on the throne, and was probably co-ruling some time before that, and the Chroniclers will name him Seinei Tennou. We’ll look more at his reign and what comes next, soon enough.

And, so, until next episode, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends—word of mouth really is the best way to let people know about things like this. Also feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, find us on Patreon, or find links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.

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And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

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