The Princes

While there were many princes of Ōsazaki no Ōkimi, only three of them stand out to us: Izaho Wake no Mikoto, Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko, and Mizuha Wake no Mikoto.

Izaho Wake no Mikoto

He was the eldest of the three, and the designated successor to Ōsazaki no Ōkimi, for all that meant. At one point “Wake” seems to have been a title, indicating lordship over some territory, but it is unclear if that is still the case by this period.

Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko

He was the middlest brother of the three. Perhaps that is what is meant by his name, “Naka tsu Miko” — the Middle Prince. Granted, in later names “Naka” shows up as a common enough name element. Sometimes he is referred to as “Prince Naka”.

Midzuha Wake no Mikoto

The youngest of the three, he nonetheless plays a large role in the events that take place. Also, I will apologize ahead of time for those trying to make out “Izaho Wake” and “Midzuha Wake” in the spoken word—I can understand how the two can sound remarkably similar without the visual aids.

The Courtiers

Achi no Atae

Achi no Atae also seems to be referred to as “Achi no Omi”. In this case, I suspect that Atae is the kabane of the family of Achi and Omi is literally the post of the minister, but it is hard to understand, well. It does seem as though this person is meant to at least be related to Achikki, who came over from Baekje with the first horses. It is possible it is the same individual, but all of that is unclear.

Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune

He is referred to several different ways—sometimes just as Dzuku no Sukune and once as Heguri no Tsuka no Sukune, but they all appear to reference the same individual, born at the same time as previous sovereign, Ōsazaki no Ōkimi

Kuro Hime

Daughter of Hata no Yashiro no Sukune, we know very little about her, other than that she was a point of contention between the royal brothers. Even her name, “black princess”, likely just refers to her hair or complexion, and may not have been her actual name.

Sashihire, aka Sobakari

This individual is said to be a Hayato, one of the ethnic groups of Southern Kyūshū. His name is radically different between the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki, probably do to the fact that it was recorded phonetically. He is said to have been a servant of Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 54, Here we go again.
The palace in flames. Brother fighting brother. And the establishment of the Inner Treasury. These are a few of the things we’ll talk about in this episode. Content warning up front, there will be discussions of violence, death, and assassination. Welcome to history!
Now, of course, last episode we saw the death of the sovereign Oho Sazaki, aka Nintoku Tennou. He probably reigned in the first quarter or so of the 5th century, and tradition holds that his kofun is Daisen kofun, one of the largest mausoleums in the world. The Nihon Shoki shows him reigning for an impressive 87 years, though in reality it may have only been 30 years or less—which would still be an impressive reign for most sovereigns around the world. 87 years isn’t impossible, of course—many sovereigns have come to the throne as children or even infants—but we also see him taking wives 31 years before he takes the throne. So that would be at least 118 years or so. Assuming he was 14 or so when it happened you are talking about 132 years of age, which is already well beyond the oldest verifiable person known to have been alive, today.
Still, we know that there was *someone* important around in the fifth century, as evidenced by the immense size of Daisen Kofun. The power and hegemony of Yamato on the archipelago was continuing to grow, and the state was still developing. Certainly ritual remained at its heart, as I suspect that was a key factor of Yamato’s influence across the archipelago, but they were also continuing to develop the administrative apparatuses that would allow governance of a much larger region. That this growth happens seems incontrovertible—after all, spoiler alert, we already know that Yamato would eventually grow into the state we know, today, as Japan—but when and through what means is a little less clear.
Take, for example, the almost throw-away line in the Chronicles about the establishment of the treasury. It occupies a single line in the Nihon Shoki, and only slightly more in the Kojiki. We are told in the Chronicles that Nintoku’s successor, Richuu Tennou—which is, of course, the posthumous name given to him by the 8th century chroniclers. Well Richuu, created the Treasury and that he gave charge of it to Achi no Atahe. Aston provides us some further sources, noting that the later commentaries in the Shokuin Rei, part of the Taiho Ritsuryo law codes enacted at the very start of the 8th century, give us a little more information. That source differentiates between the sacred treasury and the inner treasury, and identifies this new administrative structure as the Inner Treasury, built to house those material items that had been gifted to the court as a part of complex political trade networks that Yamato was engaged in with the continent. Fabrics, jewels, gold, silver, and objects of art might be kept in the Inner Treasury. The Sacred Treasury, on the other hand, is noted as a much older institution, housing those items dedicated to the kami—which likely were the sacred mirrors and other ritual items from which the ancient elites had once demonstrated their authority.
I can’t help but see this as part of a larger centralization of the government, and a move away from the importance of the ritual position of the individual elites. While ritualists still held considerable authority through their ties to various deities, particularly in local regions, more and more individuals were deriving their authority from the court itself and the administrative power thereof. After all, from the court came appointments over granaries and rice fields, which provided an economic incentive for individuals to partake in the system, as well as another type of recognition separate from ritual. Creating a treasury that wasn’t directly connected to a particular cultic site or deity feels like further growth of the administrative state.
This goes hand in hand with another proclamation, placed around the same time in the Chronicles, that sent literate recorders out to the various provinces. Their job was to write down statements and send communication back to Yamato. On the one hand, this was a great innovation that would help increase the speed at which news and facts could travel. On the other hand, it eroded the autonomy of local authorities, providing greater scrutiny and accountability by the central authority.
Returning, however, to the Treasury—the Taiho Code further provides two individuals who were to oversee this new Treasury. The first was, as we’ve mentioned, Achi no Atahe. The second was Wang’in. If those names sound somewhat familiar, you may be recalling the names of Achikki and Wang’in, the two Baekje scholars sent over, we are told in the reign of Homuda Wake. And here we see where time once again folds neatly in on itself. Because the entry for this record in the Nihon Shoki is 405, which is exactly 120 years, or two 60 year cycles, off of when they say Wang’in arrived in the islands. While we should still remain skeptical of any of the dates in the Chronicles, this would seem to generally support our previous attempts to correct the dates from Okinaga Tararashi Hime forward. However, it brings up another question: whose reign is this happening in? Is it really in Richuu’s reign? Or did it happen some time earlier.
There really is no good way to know, but here’s my current historical head canon: Baekje likely sent scholars over, possibly in 405 CE, and they brought with them the latest continental knowledge of statecraft. From that continental learning, which included reading and writing, Yamato was able to start to develop some of the organs of statehood. As such it was quite likely that this all was occurring during the early 5th century. One might even assume that the reigns of Homuda Wake and Oho Sazaki were much shorter than we are led to believe—possibly no more than 10~20 years per reign. As such, it is quite possible that Achi no Atahe—either Achikki or one of his descendants—was, indeed, put in charge of the Treasury at the beginning of Richuu Tennou’s reign, and if our next story has any truth to it, this would seem to be entirely understandable.
But for that, we need to roll back a bit to just after Oho Sazaki’s death, and to the matter of succession.
Now we are told that it was Izaho Wake, Oho Sazaki’s eldest son, who was made Crown Prince by his father. His mother was Iwa no Hime, daughter of Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko, whom we discussed in some detail back in episode 47, making him likely the successor to more than just the Yamato throne. However, as we’ve seen in the past, succession was rarely a simple process, especially when there were other claimants. And while they hadn’t been named as successors, we know that Izaho Wake had several younger brothers, including Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko and Midzuha Wake. Since, as we’ve seen, primogeniture was not necessarily the rule in ancient Yamato, they all had fairly decent claims to the throne, themselves.
But as we pointed out, there was a designated successor, Izaho Wake, so when Oho Sazaki died, it should have been a simple process of Izaho Wake taking the throne. But things are rarely that straightforward, especially at this point in the Chronicles, and so, as the episode title says, here we go again. It seems there is always something that comes up to throw a wrench into the works and in this case it all started, or so we are told, with a woman.
According to the Chronicles, after mourning the death of his father, the designated Crown Prince, Izaho Wake decided to take Kuro Hime, the daughter of Hata no Yashiro no Sukune, as a consort—one of his many wives. Presumably, this is a *different* Kuro Hime than the one mentioned back in Episode 52 during the reign of Oho Sazaki. That was the daughter of Amabe no Atahe of Kibi, and likely no relation. He made all of the arrangements with her family, and all that was left was to determine an auspicious day for their marriage—essentially explaining when he would come and they would consummate the marriage together. Once that was determined, he asked one of his younger brothers, Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko, to go and give notice to her family.
Now it turns out that this had all been arranged in absentia, and it seems Suminoye took advantage of this fact. In fact, he took Izaho Wake’s name and seduced Kuro Hime in the sovereign’s stead. Presumably it was dark, and she never quite saw his face, but they consummated the marriage. As he lay with her, one of his wrist bells—an apparent fashion at the time—came off, and when he left, likely under the cover of darkness in the early morning, he left it behind.
Shortly thereafter, Izaho Wake, believing his younger brother to have acted faithfully, arrived at Kuro Hime’s chambers himself. Entering her chambers, he drew aside the curtain and sat down upon the jewel-couch—a raised platform for sitting or sleeping on. As he did so, he heard the telltale tinkling of something metal. Sure enough, a bell had come dislodged and rolled out. Since this was apparently a man’s ornament, Izaho Wake’s mind was suddenly filled with questions. He asked Kuro Hime whose bells they were, and she was completely perplexed. After all, weren’t they his from when he visited her the other night?
At that point, Izaho Wake put two and two together, realized what had happened, and left in silence, no doubt leaving poor Kuro Hime wondering at what had just happened.
Now Suminoye, knowing that his elder brother must have realized something was up, began his own preparations, and as they say: “The best defense is a good offense.” After all, Izaho Wake had not yet taken up the throne, and therefore, technically, he wasn’t the Great King, or Oho-Kimi, just yet. In fact, other than the fact that the Chronicles claim he had been named Crown Prince, we can’t actually be sure that this was even the case—that may be an assumption by the Chroniclers. And so, Izaho Wake’s claim on the throne was not absolute and we have already seen, time and again, where it wasn’t necessarily the eldest son who inherited. So Suminoye gathered his forces, and decided to take action.
Fortunately for him, he had a golden opportunity. Before he could deal with his younger brother, Suminoye, Izaho Wake had matters of state ritual to attend to. In fact, it is unclear whether he was planning to take any action at all as he prepared to celebrate Ohonihe—the festival of first fruits—with a traditional state banquet. And so he went about with the preparations and got everything ready.
Now while there was, no doubt, some parts of the ritual that were staid and formal, it was, still, a banquet. That meant that the sake flowed freely, and by the end of the night Izaho Wake was deep in his cups. When it was all over, the Crown Prince headed to his chambers and fell into a deep, drunken slumber.
It was at that moment that Suminoye decided to make his move. He gathered his forces and surrounded the palace in Naniwa. The ministers of the court, including men of influential families such as Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune, Mononobe no Omahe no Sukune, and Achi no Omi all tried to warn Izaho Wake of the danger, but he was fast asleep, and nobody could wake him. Finally, as Suminoye’s troops set fire to the buildings, Achi no Omi, also called in the Kojiki Achi no Atahe, picked up Izaho Wake’s limp body, threw him on the back of a horse, and together they made their escape.
Izaho Wake didn’t regain consciousness until they hit Hanifu hill, at which point they looked back and saw the palace in flames.
Izaho Wake was suddenly homeless, having woken up on the road, and trying to figure out what to do next. Meanwhile, Suminoye was consolidating his own position and reaching out for allies, likely trying to make sure that he dealt with any opposition to his sudden coup and ensure that Izaho Wake and any supporters were entirely eliminated. He reached out to close political allies in an apparent attempt to lock down the capital region.
Thus it was that as Izaho Wake was fleeing towards they came to Mt. Asuka, where they found a young woman, who gave them critical insights into the state of their enemies. She told them that Suminoye’s allies were all over the local hills, and that the only safe way would be to go by way of the Tagima road.
Izaho Wake and his allies realized they would need men of their own, and they quickly raised a force amongst the local people of the district there, around Mt. Asuka, then they took their forces cautiously along the Tagima Road, by way of Mt. Tatsuta. This route likely headed south, through the mountains near where the Yamato River exits the Nara Basin.
As they were moving their forces cautiously, on the lookout for the opposing team, they noticed a group of men heading towards them. And so Izaho Wake had his men hide and sent out a single scout to go find out what they were about. This man went down and inquired as to just who the men were and they told him they were fishermen—and of course, what we know of “fishermen” of this time that probably wasn’t all that far away from “pirate” and “raider”, like all of those who had been plaguing the Korean peninsula. These particular fishermen were from Nojima on the island of Awaji, conscripted by the Adzumi no Muraji no Hamako, who sent them out on behalf of Suminoye to pursue Izaho Wake.
Upon hearing this, the scout alerted Izaho Wake’s troops, who sprung up from where they were hiding and took the fishermen by surprise and captured all of them.
Of course, it wasn’t just conscripted fishermen that Izaho Wake was up against. Suminoye had plenty of friends, and one of those was another familiar face in the narrative: Yamato no Atahe no Agoko. We discussed Agoko back in Episode 49 and last episode, Episode 53. He was the one who helped sort out the legal dispute over the granaries after the death of Homuda Wake. He also was the one who traveled to Toutoumi and oversaw the work to build a boat out of the giant tree that had floated down the river, sailing it around the Kii peninsula. Now, however, he had apparently sided with Suminoye, out of what we are told was his deep affection for the prince. He even had been privy to the original conspiracy to burn down the palace. And so he raised several hundred choice troops in Yamato proper, at Kurusu in Kakibami district, and arrayed them in opposition to Izaho Wake’s advance.
Now Izaho Wake did not immediately know where Agoko and his forces were, and so he and his men were actually several leagues from the mountains, out on the plains, when they saw Agoko and his forces. Cautiously, Izaho Wake sent forward a messenger, who asked whose army it was that they had stumbled across. Agoko told the messenger who he was, and then he asked about the other forces. The messenger told them that it was the Crown Prince, Izaho Wake, at which point Agoko was suddenly faced with something of an existential crisis. Despite raising hundreds of men, he had no idea just how big Izaho’s army might be. To see a small force out on the road, in the open, he feared that it was some kind of trap and he suddenly became worried. Thinking quickly, he told the messenger that he was actually there looking for the Crown Prince, because he wanted to join him.
At this point, Izaho Wake was more than a little suspicious. He’d had plenty of people try to kill him already, and he likely knew something of Agoko’s close relationship with his brother, Suminoye. Perhaps he figured that Agoko might be willing to stay out of the conflict, but it seemed too much that Agoko was willing to raise troops to help Izaho Wake, even if he was the designated Crown Prince. That said, Izaho Wake did allow them to draw closer, and then he suddenly attacked, seizing Agoko and attempting to kill him.
Agoko, fearful that he was going to die, pleaded with Izaho Wake, and even offered up his own younger sister, Hi no Hime, if only Izaho Wake would pardon him. And so, Izaho spared his life, but kept him close.
With no further impediments, Izaho Wake continued on to Isonokami shrine, which, as you may remember, was an ancestral shrine of the Mononobe, holding many sacred objects, including an entire arsenal of swords and other weapons that had been donated over the years. There, Izaho Wake fortified himself, setting up his court in absentia, while working out just how he was going to get out of this whole thing.
And so there they were: Izaho Wake in Isonokami and Suminoye presumably sitting in Naniwa and attempting to solidify his own power base. But as you may recall there were at least three eligible brothers around at this time, and Midzuha Wake had yet to make an appearance.
Now the Chronicles tell us that Midzuha Wake was a true brother of Izaho Wake. He was the youngest of the three, but no slouch. We are told that he was an impressive nine feet 2 and ½ inches tall—and even though a Japanese foot, or shaku, was probably a bit less than an imperial foot, it is clear that he was rather tall. Even his teeth were well-proportioned, like beads strung on a cord—likely quite the feat in an age before modern oral hygiene.
In all of the chaos that had suddenly arisen, Midzuha Wake had gone searching for his eldest brother. But when he found him, there at Isonokami Shrine, Izaho Wake was more than a little suspicious of his motives. After all, even someone like Agoko had been supporting their brother, Suminoye, so it is little wonder if he had become a bit paranoid.
Midzuha Wake asked just what it would take to gain his brother’s trust again, and Izaho Wake claimed it would only happen if Midzuha Wake killed Suminoye, killing off the threat to Izaho Wake’s life.
Midzuha Wake, with a bit of bravado, laughed off Izaho Wake’s concerns. He told his brother that Suminoye’s support back in the court was extremely tenuous, as nobody really cared for him nor what he had done. Midzuha Wake himself had known that something was up, but he didn’t take action because he hadn’t received word from his brother, Izaho Wake, to do anything, so he figured his big bro had it taken care of.
But if Suminoye’s death was what his brother’s trust required, Midzuha Wake would see to it. However, he did ask for one thing: a witness. After all, why should his brother trust that the deed was done? This is before the later samurai custom of cutting off heads on the battlefield to prove that you had killed someone. What would happen if he came back and Izaho Wake didn’t believe him? No, this job called for independent verification.
Enter Dzuku no Sukune.
Dzuku no Sukune was a trusted member of the court, and was old enough to be father to both Izaho Wake and Midzuha Wake. You see his father was Takechi no Sukune, the first Prime Minister, from back in the time of Okinaga Tarashi Hime, and he was born around the same time as the previous sovereign, Oho Sazaki. In fact, his name was actually intertwined with that of Oho Sazaki, because when he was born a wren, or sazaki, had entered the parturition hut where his mother was giving birth, while into Oho Sazaki’s hut flew an owl, called “dzuku”. Homuda Wake and Takechi no Sukune thought this was such awesome parallelism that they each named their sons for the bird that had flown into the other one’s hut, thus subtly tying them together.
Of course, that whole story seems a bit suspect, but it gets at the fact that Dzuku no Sukune was considered trustworthy—if he said that Midzuha Wake did the deed, then it was true.
And so the two left Izaho Wake and his court at the shrine of Isonokami to go find a way to kill their other brother, Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko.
Now, despite all of his bravado with Izaho Wake, Midzuha Wake was clearly conflicted. After all, Suminoye was also his older brother, and now he would have to choose: whom should he actually obey? Whom should he oppose? Working through this dilemma we are told that he eventually decided that he must obey the righteous and destroy the unprincipled. Since Izaho Wake was the rightful heir, and Suminoye had tried to have him killed, Izaho Wake was in the right, and therefore he would be the one that Midzuha Wake decided to obey. I mean, kind of late to be worried about it, right? He took the kings shilling and all that.
Personally, I suspect this bit of introspective moralizing was an insertion by the Chroniclers in an attempt to rationalize Midzuha Wake taking a stance against either one of his brothers, but there you have it.
Back in Naniwa, Suminoye wasn’t really giving much thought to Izaho Wake. From his perspective his brother had fled, leaving the throne vacant. Sure, he had his allies on the lookout, but his focus was less on his brother and more about acting the part of the sovereign. Supposedly he had moved the remaining court to his own palace or something similar, where he had his own staff of servants to help take care of him.
One of these servants was a Hayato, a member of one of the ethnic groups of southern Kyushu, who went by the name of either Sobakari or Sashihire—the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki vary on this point, but I’ll go with Sashihire for now. Anyway, Midzuha Wake was able to get Sashihire alone, and he promised him great rewards, and even promotion to Prime Minister, or Oho-Omi, once Izaho Wake took the throne. Sashihire was appropriately tempted, and he agreed to the terms.
Thus it was that he took a spear and he waited until Suminoye went out to the privy. There, as Prince Suminoye was at his most vulnerable, Sashihire thrust the spear and assassinated him. And like that, the would-be reign of Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko, aka the Middle Prince of Suminoye, came to an end before it ever got started.
As for Midzuha Wake and Dzuku no Sukune, they started heading back to Isonokami to report the news to Izaho Wake, and they took with them Sashihire, who was convinced he would be greatly rewarded. Dzuku no Sukune, however, pointed out to Midzuha Wake the inherent problem, however. After all, if Sashihire had been so easily tempted into turning against and killing his own lord, how could he be trusted at all?
Mizuha Wake thought on this. What would be best? Was there some way to ensure his loyalty so that Sashihire would never betray him or Izaho Wake?
Finally, he came up with a plan. As they came to the great slope of Ohosaka, leading towards Yamato, Midzuha Wake made a pronouncement. Why wait for the inevitable? As brother to the Crown Prince, he would make Sashihire Oho-omi, the Great Minister, right then and there, binding him through their promise and reward. And so they stopped and quickly put together the trappings for a proper state banquet at the foot of the mountains, even building—or possibly converting an existing structure into—a proper temporary palace.
Sashihire was overjoyed—this was everything he could have hoped for. He eagerly participated and could hardly wait for his new status. Mizuha Wake, for his part, performed the required rituals with appropriate solemnity. He even obtained a large bowl—larger than his own head—and he had it filled with sake, proclaiming: “I will drink wine with the Oho-omi from the same cup.” This tradition of sharing a single cup of sake, while perhaps not the most hygienic of traditions, would continue to show up throughout Japanese history and in a variety of ways, all to help reinforce the bonds between individuals.
And so Mizuha Wake took a long sip from the bowl, and then handed it to Sashihire. And as Sashihire held up the bowl to drink from it, its enormous size completely covered his face. At that moment, Mizuha Wake, who had come to the decision that there was, in truth, no way he could ever truly trust Sashihire, drew out a sword which he had secreted under a nearby mat, and he stabbed Sashihire through his neck, killing him.
And that was the end of Sashihire. Presumably, Mizuha Wake and Dzuku no Sukune spent some time to clean everything up, but then they were both back on the road, eventually arriving at Isonokami, There they informed Izaho Wake that the “Mission of Pacification” had been completed, and they told him everything that had transpired.
With no further threat to the throne, Izaho Wake formally took up the mantle of sovereign, and he got back to the business of governing. It was, indeed, Izaho Wake whom the later Chroniclers would name as Richuu Tennou.
As one of his first duties as uncontested sovereign, Izaho Wake rewarded Midzuha Wake with the Mura-awase granaries, and later would make him his own Crown Prince, despite the fact that he had children of his own. He would also remember those who had helped him—which is perhaps how the Achi no Atahe came to be the ones in charge of the Inner Treasury.
Of course, it wasn’t all about the rewards. For those who had sided with Suminoye, they were punished, but in many cases their sentences were commuted. For instance, the Hamako, the Muraji of Adzumi, whose fishermen had come out to find Izaho Wake, was tattooed above the eye with a tattoo that would let people know of his crimes. Likewise, the surviving fishermen themselves were put to work as laborers at the granaries of Komoshiro, there in Yamato.
A new palace was, of course, required, and rather than rebuilding it in Naniwa, he built it, instead, in Iware, in the Nara Basin. There it was near a mountain that had an out-of-season bloom of Sakura, or blossoming cherry trees, and so it was known as the Wakazakura Palace.
He also finalized the arrangements and formally married Kuro Hime, installing her as his queen. She would go on to give him several sons and daughters.
He also set up four ministers to help oversee the affairs of state. These were Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune, Soga no Manchi no Sukune, Mononobe no Ikofutsu no Ohomuraji, and Tsubura no Oho-omi.
Now, of course, this whole sordid mess still has a lot of holes. The story I’ve given you blends together details from both the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, and seems to fit with what some scholars have said about the chaos following the death of a sovereign, and it even parallels, to some extent, the problems that Oho Sazaki had in coming to the throne—proving once more that there was no guarantee on succession.
It is easy to see how a story like this might have evolved from multiple elites vying for power in the vacuum leftover when a ruler passed away. Were they all brothers, or even the sons of the previous ruler? Who is to say.
On the other hand, it is also interesting that the Sendai Kuji Hongi, aka the Kujiki, leaves it out. For the most part this source has been pretty big on providing pre-ascension details, but here it is oddly silent. Is this because the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki were drawing from texts not available to the compilers of the Kujiki? Or did they just not feel that it was part of their mandate? Perhaps they saw it as unimportant? Whatever the reason, it wasn’t included.
There are some differences between the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, as well. Most of excuse for the conflict—that being Kuro Hime and Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko seducing her—is only really found in the Nihon Shoki. The Kojiki merely mentions the burning of the palace, a point on which both are pretty clear. The Nihon Shoki also has more names and a few alternate stories, such has having Ohomae no Sukune picking up the sovereign and throwing him on a horse rather than Achi no Omi, aka Achi no Atahe. The Kojiki, in general, is much more abridged, and focuses more on the fight between the brothers and does not bring in as many outside characters.
Still, many things are the same. For instance, in both Chronicles they meet a woman who warms them of the dangers and suggests they take the Tagima Road. The idea of a woman as an oracular figure, giving advice to the sovereign and warning them of danger, is something that we’ve already seen in the Chronicles, and may go back to some of the shamanistic aspects of early religious belief in the archipelago, but it is never so clearly stated. It is unclear if this was something that happened or simply a common storytelling device for the time.
I also wonder about the encroachment of the Chroniclers’ own contemporary politics. Of course, the actions of Izaho Wake and Midzuha Wake are both suspect, in a way, as they are both heirs to the throne. It is also interesting that Suminoye no Naka tsu Miko is given a name that seems to merely translate as the “Middle Prince of Suminoye”, or something along those lines, while both of the other two brothers are mentioned with their names and the title of “Wake”. Was the Middle Prince truly named as such, or is that just a descriptor of an antagonist whose actual name has been lost, possibly deliberately so.
I also can’t help but notice the fact that Suminoye’s treacherous manservant is identified as being Hayato. The “Falcon People” of Kyushu were both an important part of court ritual, with their dances and traditions, but they were also frequently in rebellion against Yamato. In the 8th century I suspect that the fact that Sashihire was Hayato would have been a telling point for the audience, falling in line as it did with contemporary stereotypes.
We also see here the idea of tattooing as a criminal punishment. This is something that continued right up until the modern day, with tattoos still often associated with criminal elements. That said, we know that tattoos were not always a punishment. For example, back in the sections on Yamate in the Weizhi, tattooing is mentioned as a not uncommon form of bodily decoration. And we also have a story from this reign that further supports it.
According to the Nihon Shoki, Izaho Wake went hunting on the island of Awaji, as was common for sovereigns to do, and he took with him a member of the Umakahi-be, or the Horse-keeper’s Be. Now before heading out, Umakahi-be had been tattooed in the face, and his wounds hadn’t yet healed. It is said that a hafuri—a medium for the kami—approached and spoke with the voice of the god Izanagi no Mikoto, who claimed that he could not a endure the stench of blood. Trying to figure out what this meant—after all, this could put a real damper on future hunting expeditions—a divination was conducted and it was determined that the deity’s complaint was specifically about the blood from the wound caused by the tattooing , which was apparently something that every member of the Umakahi-be went through—at least up until then. To appease the kami, Izaho Wake declared that from that day forth, the Umakahi-be would no longer be tattoed.
Clearly this kind of a mark was not one indicative of criminal activity, but rather seemed to demonstrate belonging to a group. Whether other families and groups operated in similar ways I’m not sure, but I suspect this was not an isolated case, and it very well may have been that many people had tattoos of various types indicating their affiliations and other factors.
Speaking of the Kami, while Izaho Wake had largely settled things as far as human administration, there were still issues that came up with the kami. And at one point the Three Deities of Tsukushi—or perhaps their representatives and mediums—appeared in the palace, complaining that they had been robbed of their people, and because of this they would curse the sovereign. By the “Three Deities of Tsukushi” one imagines that they meant the deities of the various shrines of Munakushi, in Fukuoka, and the islands out to Okinoshima—the children of Amaterasu—though it is never clearly stated.
Of course, with such an ominous pronouncement, divinations were done, but here we see that they were not always successful, as nobody had any idea what the kami were talking about. Izaho prayed, but his prayer was not answered. For some time, things went on as normal, but there may have been a feeling as though a Sword of Damocles was hanging over the court.
Sure enough, one day a great voice spoke on the wind, warning the Inheritor of the Divine Sword—aka the sovereign, Izaho Wake—that the “Younger sister of bird-frequented Hata” had gone to be buried at Hasa. Sure enough, shortly thereafter a messenger arrived with word that Kuro Hime, the daughter of Hata no Yashiro no Sukune, had died.
Izaho Wake immediately headed back, but there was nothing he could do. Kuro Hime was dead, apparently from the curse of the Three Deities. Izaho Wake immediately started taking measures to find out who was at fault. He investigated as best he could and finally he learned that the Lord of the Cart-Keepers, Kuruma-mochi no Kimi, had recently traveled to Tsukushi and reviewed all of the Cart-Keepers down there. During his review, he took into his service men who had been previously dedicated to the deities, apparently under the belief that all of the Cart Keepers should report to him, first and foremost.
In learning all of this, Izaho Wake brought the Lord of the Kuruma-mochi up on two charges. First was that he had arbitrarily appropriated subjects of the sovereign. Here we see the centralization of authority over people and what they are doing. Second, was that he had assigned people to the Kurumamochi *after* they had been dedicated to the service of the deities.
As punishment, Kuramamochi no Kimi was first fined the articles for a ritual ceremony for the expiation of evil and the expiation of good. This means he had to produce the ritual items required and effectively pay for the ritual to be completed, so it was essentially an economic fine. Second, the members of the Kurumamochi of Tsukushi were removed from his service and reassigned back to the deities they were supposed to serve.
That appeased the deities, and there is no more mention of the curse.
Perhaps more practically, this demonstrates, again, the extended reach of Yamato. As these various organizations, known as “-be”, which were generally organized to support some activity or another, grew more powerful, they seem to have assumed some authority of their groups’ members. This no doubt conflicted with other, traditional forms of authority, who had their own claims on the labor of certain individuals. In the end, it sounds as if the shrine complained, but the fact that they complained to the court in Yamato—possibly in the form of a medium—would seem to be indicative of the centralization process we continue to see developing during this period.
Beyond the kami and politics, and more, there was one other story that stood out in the life of Izaho Wake, and it may seem a bit anticlimactic, but does demonstrate that Yamato rule was not absolute.
Now, of course, Izaho Wake took many wives, most of whom we might best classify as consorts. These were likely political marriages, but their offspring, while royal, did not hold the same place as those of the designated queen. Two of these consorts were sisters, and when they arrived, they were mourning, for they missed their brother. Izaho Wake asked about this brother they were missing, and they described a man of tremendous exploits who could literally leap tall buildings in a single bound. Well, at least they claimed he cleared an 8-fathom house with a running leap and then went away. His name was Washizumi no Miko.
Izaho Wake was eager to get this talented man to join his team, as it were, and he sent numerous invites out to him, but none of them were returned. Instead, Washizumi continued to reside in the village of Suminoye. Eventually Izaho Wake just let the matter drop and went on to other things.
Washizumi is said to have been the ancestors of Miyakko, or governors, of Sanuki and the Wake of Ashikuhi in Awa. These are the two easternmost of the four countries that make up the island of Shikoku, situated across the Seto Inland Sea from Honshu.
I suspect that this story isn’t just about one individual, but may indicate that Yamato influence was not absolute, and even though they may have been in a superior position, and able to command various marriage alliances. That fits my understanding of a state that was still growing and testing the limits of what they could do.
Now for all of this that happened, Izaho Wake’s reign was not extremely long. The Nihon Shoki claims he only reigned for about five years, and the year of his death may have bene around 432 if the sexagenary cycle is to be believed. It is certainly one of the more reasonable examples of regnal periods.
But that’s it for Izaho Wake. Next we’ll look at his brother and successor, Mizuha Wake.
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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