This episode we take a quick look at the reign of Tamura, aka Jomei Tenno.

A few notes here: First off, it is still unclear how far Yamato’s reach actually was, and I should mention that it is also unclear just what the relationship was between Yamato and the Emishi. Obviously the Chronicles refer to it in particular manner, but that was just that.

Second, in case anyone’s curious, “Katana” as a name is not the same as “katana” the sword. It is just a bit of linguistic irony that they wind up together.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 105: Onsen and Uprisings
The general paced back and forth behind the walls of the fortress. Glancing around, he couldn’t help but notice how empty it now seemed. The palisades were holding, but most of the soldiers had gone, disappearing in the night. Outside the walls of the fortress, he could hear the Emishi laughing and singing. They were in good spirits—and why wouldn’t they be? The great army of Yamato sent to chastise them had been routed, and they had besieged them in their fortress, built in these still wild lands of northeastern Honshu, on the edge of an area known to many as Michi no Oku, roughly: the end of the road.
And for the general, it looked like this might be the end of the road for him. His options were limited, and he was clearly outnumbered. It was beginning to look like his troops had the right idea. Of course, it meant leaving his wife and other women to fend for themselves, but fear can do a lot to motivate someone. The general eyed the walls and the trees beyond. If he could slip past the besieging forces in the darkness, perhaps he could escape. It wouldn’t be the most honorable way out of this situation, but it would at least leave him with his head. And so, as night fell, he decided to make his move…
Greetings everyone, and welcome back!
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Speaking of: This episode we are going to be talking about events during the reign of Prince Tamura, also known as Okinaga Tarashi-hi Hiro-nuka, or by the name given to him by the 8th century chroniclers: Jomei Tennou. As we discussed back in episode 103, Prince Tamura came to power in an interesting turn of fate. The grandson of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tenno, his father, Prince Hikobito no Ohoye was killed during the tumultuous period following Nunakura’s death. After several short-lived reigns, it was Kashikiya Hime, wife to Nunakura, who took the throne, known to us as Suiko Tennou.
Kashikiya Hime had named an heir, Crown Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, but he died before she did and by the time that Kashikiya Hime passed away, there was nobody clearly set up to take the throne, though two candidates did stand out. There was Prince Yamashiro no Ohoye, the son of Crown Prince Umayado, whom a strict lineal succession might seem to indicate was next up to inherit, but Yamato inheritance tradition was not so cut and dried. Soga no Emishi, the son of Soga no Umako, the powerful Oho-omi who helped run the government during Kashikiya Hime’s reign, campaigned to put Prince Tamura on the throne, rather than Yamashiro no Ohoye, despite—or perhaps because of—the fact that Yamashiro no Ohoye was actually a close relative to Emishi.
Now Prince Tamura was on the throne and Soga no Emishi was the Oho-omi, taking his father’s place.
And yet, despite the chaotic start to the reign in 629, the majority of it was almost tame and nondescript. Don’t get me wrong, Tamura, as I’ll keep referring to him, was on the throne for a respectable thirteen years, and during that time there were certainly events that move our narrative forward in many ways. However, much of the years of his reign are filled with discussions of things like rain storms and celestial phenomena. In fact, the only thing that apparently happened in all of 634 was that they saw a comet in the sky. The year before that, in 633, the only entry was the return of envoys from the Tang. For two years, then, there is hardly a mention of politics and anything else going on. And yet, this is a period that would set the stage for what was coming next.
Shortly after Tamura was appointed sovereign, he appointed his consort, Princess Takara, as his queen. Takara was, herself, a great-great grand-daughter of Nunakura Futodamashiki, a granddaughter of Prince Hikobito and daughter of Prince Chinu—presumably niece to Tamura, then, which is basically par for the course. She was also a royal descendant on her mother’s side, tracing back to Nunakura’s father, Ame Kuniyoshi, aka Kinmei Tennou. In fact, her mother, Kibitsu Hime, is said to have been buried in her own kofun at the head of Ame Kuniyoshi’s kofun—and today it is the site of the 7th century saruishi figures that I mentioned in the talk about traveling around Asuka.
Takara would give birth to three children of note. The first was her eldest son, Prince Katsuraki, who would, spoiler alert, later be known as Crown Prince Naka no Ohoye. He was around three years old when his father took the throne. He had a sister by Takara, named Hashibito, and a brother, whose name you may have heard me mention previously: Oho-ama.
Yes, Naka no Ohoye and Oho-ama are the future sovereigns Tenji and Temmu, but for now they are still relatively young. In fact, Oho-ama wouldn’t be born until several years into his father’s reign, in 631.
Some of the early events of the reign were carryover from Kashikiya Hime’s time on the throne. In 629, for instance, Tanabe no Muraji went to Yakushima, returning the following year, and with people coming to Yamato from Yakushima the year after that.
There were also a fair number of foreign embassies, including an Embassy from Goguryeo and Baekje. These may have been missions of condolences and congratulations—typical international diplomacy at the time when a neighboring ruler passed away and a new one ascended the throne, it would seem. They arrived in the third month of 630 and departed in the 9th month of that same year—a 6 month visit, all told.
We also have the first actual account of ambassadors sent off to the Tang dynasty: Inugami no Mitasuki and Yakushi no E’nichi, each of Dainin rank. These are some of the first true kentoushi, or Ambassadors to the Tang court, that were sent, but over time their influence would be felt across Yamato and the archipelago.
These ambassadors—or at least Mitasuki—would return in 632 with a Tang ambassador, Gao Biaoren, along with student-priests Ryou’un and Soumin, as well as Suguri no Torikahi. Perhaps most tellingly, they would arrive with Silla escort envoys, which would seem to indicate that passage to the Tang court was not done without Silla’s assistance. As you may recall, Silla had entered into a nominal alliance with the Tang against Goguryeo. The Tang Ambassadors eventually reached Naniwa, where they were met with boats decked out with drums, flutes, and flags, and where they exchanged formal greetings before being escorted into the official residence. The Nihon Shoki takes pains to note the different individuals involved in the duties, from the initial greeting, guiding them to the residence, and then preparing them in the residence, along with a welcome drink of sake brewed on temple rice land.
And then, three months later, they depart once more. Nothing else is said of their visit.
Meanwhile, in the time between when Mitasuki went to the Tang court and when he returned with Gao Biaoren and company, a few things had happened. For one we get a note about Tamura moving to a new palace complex known as Okamoto no miya, supposedly at the foot of Asuka hill, hence the name, which means “foot of the hill”. This would not have been much of a change from Kashikiya Hime’s palace, still within the sacred area defined by the Soga temple of Asukadera as well as various other temples being stood up in that area as well. A move was to be expected, though in this case it is interesting that he didn’t go very far.
There is also mention, still in 630, of the repairing the official residences in Naniwa where ambassadors from the continent would be quartered during their trips to Yamato
631 opens with something of a treat – so it would seem, anyway. We are told that in the third month of Tamura’s third year on the throne, Prince Pung—named Pungjang in the Chronicles—was sent to the Yamato court by his father, King Wicha of Baekje. On the one hand, the Korean sources do agree that Prince Pung was, indeed, sent to Yamato, where he would live as a guest and diplomatic hostage. We’ve talked about this practice in the past, which seems to have strengthened bonds between nations, although we rarely hear of Yamato returning the favor by sending hostages to the continent. It may have also helped keep a potential heir out of harm’s way in case of a coup or other such politics. Several times, heirs returned to Baekje to be enthroned with Yamato assistance, if the Chronicles are to be believed.
Except that this entry is probably not quite right. You see, Wicha wouldn’t even come to the throne until 641—he wasn’t even made Crown Prince until 632—so why would he send his son as a diplomatic hostage in 631? Johnathan Best, translating the Baekje records of the Samguk Sagi, suggests that perhaps the Chroniclers were off by a factor of 10 or 12 years. You see, as we mentioned earlier, the East Asian calendrical system was based on a series of ten stems and twelve branches. The stems represented the elemental forces, and the branches were identified with the twelve signs of the zodiac. Incrementing each one each year led to a series of 60 years before it started repeating, and based on the way that the records for this reign are dated, it looks like the records the Chroniclers were drawing from used this system for their dates. However, if you misread—or even miswrite—one of these characters it can change your date by ten or even twelve years. It would make much more sense for Prince Pung to have arrived twelve years later, in 643. Similarly, we find other records, particularly having to do with Baekje, which may be a bit jumbled, possibly indicating they came from a similar source that either had things in the wrong chronological order or was simply vague or poorly scribed so that the Chroniclers had to figure out exactly what was happening when—which they may have made mistakes with, from time to time.
So Prince Pung arriving as a hostage is probably misplaced, and likely didn’t happen during Tamura’s reign. Which means that other than people from Yakushima showing up in 631 the only other major event of the year was Tamura going to the hot springs of Arima, in Settsu, where he stayed for about three months.
Now I know I’ve mentioned hot springs, or onsen, before in the narrative. After all, the volcanic islands that make up the Japanese archipelago are full of them, and it isn’t like they were suddenly discovered during this reign, but it does look like this might be the first formal mention of them in the Nihon Shoki—which gives Arima, in the mountains north of Kobe, some serious bona fides to be considered the oldest known hot spring town in Japan.
And that would be a cool side note in most reigns, but for Tamura it seems to have been a habit. He apparently went for a dip at least three times in his reign—the second time, in 638, he apparently went to the “Arima no Miya”, or the Arima Palace, which suggests that he had something built specifically for his visits. And then, in 639, he headed to the hot springs in Iyo.
The country of Iyo is better known today as Ehime prefecture, on the western edge of the island of Shikoku. The largest city in Ehime is Matsuyama, home to the famous Dougou Onsen, which also lays a claim to being the oldest operating hot springs in the archipelago. Dougou Onsen is not only the traditional place in Iyo where Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou, took the waters, as they might say in the west, but in the Iyo Fudoki it is said that its fame goes back even further. As we mentioned back in Chapter 18, it is said that the legendary figures Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona met there, back in ancient times. In more recent times, relatively speaking, Dougou Onsen was the inspiration behind the fantastical bathhouse created by Hayao Miyazaki in the Studio Ghibli film, Spirited Away.
For all that these visits to the hot springs are somewhat interesting, they don’t exactly tell us a lot about what was happening with government, and in fact tend to make it seem almost as though Tamura was skipping out, at least in the fall to early winter. And to be honest, can you blame him? Winter is one of the best times to go take advantage of the volcanic springs.
Many of the other records appear to be natural phenomena, mostly having to do with the heavens: rain, storms, lightning, and more. Some of the more intriguing are comets—stars with “long tails” that appeared in the skies. There are also mentions of eclipse and what may have been a meteor—a star in 636 “floated east to west, with a noise like thunder.” The Priest Soumin, from the Tang, said it was the sound of the Celestial Dog, a creature from the ancient Han or possibly pre-Qin text, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a fantastical account of mythical geography and various animals, including the nine tailed fox and the celestial dog, whose bark was said to be like Thunder. This book was considered to be a true account up through the Tang dynasty.
One could probably track the celestial phenomena and see if there is any correlation with known sightings, but it is also just as likely that some of it was taken from continental records and inserted into the Chronicles as appropriate.
Besides such phenomena, there were accounts of more missions, especially from Baekje. Yamato was still using the cap rank system attributed to Prince Umayado during Kashikiya Hime’s reign, and some of the envoys were given cap rank, or granted a promotion—a gesture that was likely pure diplomacy, as the rank wouldn’t necessarily convey any special rights back in their home country.
There are a few more things of note. First, in 636, we are told that all those who had affairs with the uneme at court were put on trial and punished—which likely means they were put to death. The uneme, as you may recall, were women sent to serve at the court, and as such they were apparently off-limits, at least while they were serving. That clearly didn’t stop people from having some late night escapades, though.
The main reason it likely comes up, though, is that we are told that one of the accused was a man named Miwa no Kimi no Osazaki, and that he took his own life by stabbing himself in the throat because the examination—by which I’m sure they meant torture—was too much to bear. And here I have to wonder how similar Yamato’s sense of justice was to that of their neighbor, the Tang dynasty. In the case of the latter, there was often a suspicion that any person accused of a crime must be guilty of at least something—after all, why would they have been accused if they didn’t do something to upset the peace, even if it was just that they didn’t get along with their neighbors. It was considered de rigeur to submit suspected criminals to torturous ordeals with the idea that this would elicit a confession. Unfortunately, this idea that harsh and torturous examinations can be used to uncover the truth often still persists, despite evidence that, under enough duress, most people will say anything. In this case, it drove Osazaki to take his own life.
Later in that same year, the Okamoto palace caught fire and burned down, and so Tamura moved to a new palace, called the Tanaka palace, or the Palace in the Middle of the Rice Fields. We also have a little more court action, as Prince Ohomata, a son of Nunakura Futodamashiki by one of his consorts, reached out to Soga no Emishi—called in this record the Toyoura no Oho-omi, likely because his mansion was in or near Toyoura, in Asuka.
Prince Ohomata suggested to Soga no Emishi that the ministers had not been attending court properly. He suggested that they should be there by roughly 5 or 6 AM—an hour before daybreak—and they should stay until 10 or 11 AM. Specifically he mentioned the hour of the hare and the hour of the serpent, as each ancient hour was actually two, with twelve hours making up the day, each named for one of the twelve signs of the Asian zodiac.
To enforce all of this, Ohomata also recommended having a bell rung that would let people know that it was time to start or end work. This was all common practice in the continental courts of the day, and it wasn’t like they were asking for a modern 40 hour work week, even: the court ministers would literally be serving for maybe 5 to 6 hours at court, with the rest of the time to handle their own affairs. Still, Soga no Emishi apparently didn’t think much of the idea and so was not inclined to support it.
All of this is kind of an odd mention. First, Ohomata is an obscure Prince—he’s only mentioned three times in the Chronicles, and once just in a list of Nunakura’s children. Second, the idea doesn’t go anywhere. Third, they don’t call Soga no Emishi by the name they used in both the previous or the next reign, but use Toyora no Ohoomi, for whatever reason. It just sticks out as odd, and I wonder if it was added to show that Soga no Emishi was resistant to change and new ideas.
At the same time, it does give us a clue that Soga no Emishi was still running things. His name may not have been on a lot, but then again, neither was Tamura’s, so we can only infer what was actually going on during this period. It’s almost a lacuna in the history.
There were a few other events worth noting, however, one of which took more than a bit of the Chroniclers’ ink, and this was a rebellion by the Emishi people.
First off, because it can be confusing: There is no apparent link between Soga no Emishi and the Emishi people that I’m aware of. Emishi, of course, is the name given to the people living outside of the Yamato cultural sphere in the northeast, from modern Ibaraki prefecture north. They were apparently expected to pay tribute at court, and are clearly treated differently from other outside groups, like Baekje and Silla. Some of them were likely members of the groups that had lived in the region since the Jomon period, who never fully adopted the Yayoi and later Kofun lifeways, and they may be related to the Ainu people who still live in modern Hokkaido, though there is also evidence that some of the Emishi may have been ethnic Wa people who had gone to live outside the Yamato court’s reach—though that is more evident in later centuries than in the current narrative.
I would also note that “Emishi” is an exonym—that is a name given by outsiders, in this case, by the Wa people of Yamato. In fact, other than what we can see in the archaeological record, what we know of the Emishi comes from Yamato sources, which are almost entirely biased. We don’t really have any good telling of their story from their own perspective. For instance,did they feel oppressed by Yamato in general, and not think they should have to keep bringing tribute? Or was there a more specific event that occurred, much like the conflicts we see later between the Wajin, the ethnic Japanese, and the Ainu up in Hokkaido? It is unclear.
To subdue the Emishi, and bring them back under Yamato hegemony, the court appointed Kamitsukeno no Kimi no Katana, a courtier of Dainin cap rank, as general. Spoiler alert: he’s the general in the story at the beginning of this episode. Based on his name, it would seem he was from the family in charge of Kamitsukenu, later shortened to Kozuke Province in modern Gunma prefecture, north of Tokyo. As such, he would have been well positioned to know something of the Emishi on his border. That said, he apparently didn’t know them so well that it gave him an advantage. His forces were routed and they retreated back to their fortress, where they were besieged by the Emishi.
Now when I say “fortress” please don’t picture some grand castle, like Himeji, Azuchi, or Matsumoto. In fact, don’t really picture a castle at all. More likely than not, this was simply an area enclosed by a wall—possibly some earthworks and maybe a moat, but perhaps just a quickly erected palisade structure. True castle structures wouldn’t come until later. For those familiar with American history, this may have been something like the fort at Jamestown or even the quickly assembled and ill-fated Fort Necessity—though perhaps a little larger if it was capable of housing the forces and the noncombatants that had accompanied them.
And so, when some of Katana’s soldiers decided they didn’t really want to be there any longer they apparently just up and left. Presumably they found a time when nobody was looking and just yeeted themselves over the walls and did their best to hide from the surrounding Emishi forces. Pretty soon just about all of the able-bodied soldiers had taken this approach, and Katana was thinking about joining them. In fact, he was getting ready to when his own wife noticed what he was doing.
That’s right, his wife was there with him. Whether she was a combatant or simply part of the train it isn’t entirely clear, but she wasn’t going to have her husband run off and abandon his post. She poured out sake for him to drink and as he did so, she took his sword and girded it to herself. She then went and found all of the bows and handed them out to all of the other women and people who had been left behind when the soldiers deserted, and they started pulling the bowstrings back and making a sound like they were being shot.
Upon seeing this, Katana roused himself, grabbed a weapon himself, and advanced out of the fortress.
The besieging Emishi were not sure what to make of this. They could hear the twang of bows, and it sounded as though there was quite a force, so as general Katana stepped out of the fortress they pulled back, thinking that there was a much bigger force than he actually had. As they did that, some of Katana’s own forces, who had escaped, but not too far, started to gain hope. They regrouped and attacked the Emishi with fresh energy, eventually defeating them.
Of course, Katana’s wife remains nameless throughout this whole episode, even though she was the one who helped turn the tide—first by turning her husband, but then by organizing the others to make it seem like they had a lot more people than they did.
After this fascinating story, the Chronicles getback to the normal records of storms, of fruit trees blossoming, of hot springs, and tribute. It wasn’t until two years later, in 639, that we get something interesting that we might easily overlook. This was the start of a new temple on the banks of the Kudara River, known to us as Kudara dera, or Kudara Temple.
Kudara Temple is definitely a bit of an enigma. It is mentioned quite heavily in later records, and yet it would eventually disappear without a trace, or so it seemed. It wasn’t until modern times that archaeologists identified a temple that we believe is Kudara dera. We are told that it had a nine-story pagoda, which may reflect ideas from Tang or Silla practice—somewhat ironic given that “Kudara” is a name used to refer to Baekje. In this case, the name seems to have come from the Kudara River, on whose banks the temple was built.
From the 80s through the 2000s there were a series of excavations at the site of Kibi Pond north of Asuka, closer to the center of Sakurai. Here a temple was found, which we believe to be the site of Kudara dera. The pond itself was dug at a later point in time, on the site of the temple, which was likely moved. Today, there is a small Kudara temple to the northwest of the old site, but it isn’t nearly as grand as it once was.
By all accounts, the construction of Kudara temple took years, in contrast to the building of royal palaces, which went up relatively quickly. This is because the palaces, for all of their size, were still being made using largely local construction methods. Posts were placed directly into the ground and the roofs were thatched. Being made of wood, these buildings went up relatively quickly, which was good seeing as how every reign the sovereign and court would move to a new palace. Of course, I also wonder if the tradition of moving didn’t come from the fact that the palace would likely have started rotting away on its own after a while. Then again, even in a single reign you might change palaces multiple times, as Tamura did.
In contrast, we have temple construction from the mainland. Here, rocks were set down, and the posts were placed on those, which gave a firm foundation and prevented water from easily getting in and ruining the base of the pillar. Packed earth and stone construction were used in places, along with heavy tile roofs, for which thousands of rooftiles had to be constructed. Centuries of architectural knowledge were used to design and create structures that were meant to outlast any patrons who helped to build them.
Add on to that the nine story pagoda. If you consider that the beautiful and imposing tenshukaku, or main keep, of Himeji castle, built in the early 17th century, is six stories and rises over 46 meters, or about 152 feet, this pagoda may have been about the same height or even a bit higher, assuming that relative proportions were similar to those in other pagodas from the time, such as that of Yakushiji. It must have been a towering beacon at the time, and the temple is considered one of the four great temples of the Asuka era, at least by some.
That this temple was commissioned by Tamura and not by Soga no Emishi is something that may indicate some unspoken tensions at the time. Tamura’s previous palaces were in Asuka, near Asuka temple, the chief temple of the Soga family, and situated in a Soga stronghold. Kudara temple was built significantly outside of this area, though still within walking distance, so not so far as to be a complete move—it isn’t like he moved it up to lake Biwa or anything, wink wink.
In 640, Tamura returned from his trip to the hot springs in Iyo—again, modern Ehime prefecture—and came back to a new palace at Umayazaka, but just six months later he moved into the Kudara palace, which was presumably nearby Kudara temple, effectively moving the court out of—or at least to the periphery of—Soga controlled territory.
Unfortunately, his stay at Kudara palace would only last about a year, as he passed away there in the 10th month of 641. He was roughly 48 years old. His son, and heir apparent, Prince Hirakasuwake, aka Naka no Oe, pronounced the funeral elegy.
And just like that, the throne was vacant again. There was an heir apparent, but Naka no Oe was only 16 years old, and so his mother, Takara, would take the throne, presumably until he was ready. She would be known as Ame Toyo Takara Ikashi-hi Tarashi Hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou, and her reign was anything but quiet. To give some context: if we had a little over 50 or so events recorded during the 13 years that Tamura was on the throne, while we have over 60 events recorded in just the first year of Takara’s reign. So, you know, there’s that.
But I’m going to have to ask you to wait a little bit for us to dig into that. For one thing, the politics are going to start getting hot and heavy, as anyone who may recognize the name “Naka no Oe” likely knows. As this young prince was coming into his own he was going to come face to face with the power of the Soga family. All that, starting next 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.

References

McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Rough Transcript

References