Fresh off the killing of Anahobe and the destruction of the Mononobe, Soga no Umako is riding high as a new sovereign, Prince Hasebe, takes the throne.  Surely things will have finally settled down, won't they have done?

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Rough Transcription:

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 92: Death or Taxes, aka Don’t Piss Off Umako.

Before we get going, a quick recap: we are still in the late 6th century, and since the death of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, things have been a bit crazy.  The number of apparently legitimate heirs was rather impressive.  There were the various siblings of Nunakura, both full and half-siblings, and there were his children and his siblings’ children.  On top of that, there were some truly tense politics amongst some of the most powerful families in the realm, particularly the ancient Mononobe and the more recent Soga family, who had tied themselves so closely with the royal family through marriage that at this point just about every possible heir to the throne was in some way a Soga descendant.  The stories of this era have been filled with stories of death, war, and struggles for the throne.  Finally, there is the tension between Buddhism, which was first introduced in the early 6th century, and the established worship of the various kami, which also speaks to the tensions between various sources of spiritual political authority.

As we discussed int the last two episodes, when Nunakura passed away, Prince Anahobe tried to take the throne, and he was initially thwarted by Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe, aka Sakahe no Kimi.  Anahobe, possibly with the assistance of his brother, Prince Hasebe, as well as Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Moriya, killed Sakahe no Kimi, pissing off Nunakura’s former Queen, Kashikiya Hime.  Next, Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi, in support of Mononobe no Moriya, attempted to curse several of the candidates with stronger claims on the throne, and when that didn’t work, he just out and out killed Crown Prince Hikobito, getting offed himself in the process.  Throughout all of this, another prince, Tachibana no Toyohi, apparently ascended, briefly, but seems to have died of natural causes.  In the process, however, he provided legitimacy for his own children as Royal Princes and Princesses to also contest for the throne.

Moriya’s support of Anahobe led to the death of Prince Anahobe, Prince Yakabe, and Moriya and his family—and many of his supporters, as well.  And yet, despite the loss of the Mononobe and Prince Anahobe, the next heir to the throne, with the approval of Queen Kashikiya Hime, was none other than Prince Hatsusebe, aka Hasebe, a full brother to the rebel Prince Anahobe and the focus of this episode.  If this all seems a bit confusing regarding the individuals and different factions, then congratulations, you’ve been paying attention.  The narrative certainly seems to be missing some key information, likely lost in the attempt to either whitewash some of the more contentious historical records, or simply due to the Chroniclers’ attempts to create a more straightforward narrative out of a complex era which probably saw various courts competing to be recognized as the court that was actually making the decisions—something that doesn’t exactly fit in with the attempt to tell the story of a relatively unbroken royal line.

And yet, despite the chaos, we do see a solidification of power and control in general, as evidenced by the shift in late 6th century tomb structures.  As I may have mentioned in previous episodes, the Yamato area continued to build monumental round keyhole shaped tombs, but that shape of tomb simultaneously declined in nearby regions, which saw more round or square shaped—or even square keyhole shaped—tombs instead.  On the other hand, at the periphery, at the farthest reaches of the archipelago, we continue to see round keyhole shaped tombs in the Yamato style.

This is all likely due to a consolidation of Yamato’s power and authority.  Previously we had seen that start with the proliferation of the Yamato style tomb, but even from early times those round keyhole tombs were interspersed with other, typically smaller tombs.  The general assumption, based on the size, grave goods, and other archaeological features, is that the round keyhole tomb, at least in a Yamato context, was reserved for the Yamato royal family and only those of the most elite status.  In the Yamato and Kawachi regions, this seems to have held true, but further afield, local magnates adopted the round keyhole tombs for themselves, perhaps even appropriating some of the prestige of that tomb shape for themselves.  Similarly, it is very likely that Yamato did not have the power to stop local rulers from building whatever the heck they wanted, despite the impression given by the Chroniclers that all was hunky-dory as soon as Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko sent out people to subdue the four corners of the archipelago.

Whether because of an increased military might, or because of a cultural change in accepting Yamato’s leadership, more and more lands seem to have been more directly under Yamato’s sway, following their customs and accepting their position in the Yamato hierarchy.  To put it another way: in many parts of the archipelago, particularly those closer to Yamato, we do not see continued claims of “kingship” by the local elite.  They have accepted a lower status in the evolving hierarchy, presumably gaining some security and access to resources of the entire Yamato polity in the process, though that isn’t entirely clear to me based purely on the archaeological evidence.  But according to our tomb theory, those on the periphery, where Yamato’s control remained the weakest, continued to build their own round keyhole tombs, indicating they still considered themselves somewhat independent, even as they remained influenced by Yamato’s overall cultural affectations.

Into this world, Prince Hasebe ascended the throne.  Prince Hasebe was another half-brother to Nunakura Futodamashiki.  Like his full brother, Prince Anahobe Hasetsukabe, he was a Soga descendant through the maternal line.  We are told that his ascension was endorsed by Kashikiya Hime, his half-sister, and another Soga-descended royal.  He assumed the throne almost immediately following the turmoil that resulted in Anahobe’s death and the destruction of Mononobe no Moriya.  This was in 587, and for the next five years, the reign appeared to be similar to any other, but I suspect that things hadn’t quite settled, yet.  How could they?  It seems clear that it was way too easy for political violence to break out, and despite the Chronicles’ insistence that everything was fine, many of the systemic issues that led to the violence in the first place were still there.

To start with, you still had all of those potential heirs to the throne, and no clear succession tradition or precedence.  On top of that, each household, while created to serve the Court, had grown into its own political entity, vying for their own level of power and control.  No doubt some of this was exacerbated as Yamato’s influence grew, bringing more people directly under Yamato’s authority.

I also can’t help but notice that there appears to be a lack of any kind of clear justice system.  In fact, laws in general at this time appear to be based on precedent and tradition, likely oral tradition: although we have writing, we don’t have a written system of laws just yet.  We have artifacts with writing on them.  We also have records of books coming over from the continent, which presumably people were able to read.  However, what was writing being used for?  It appears to have been used for communication—for example, diplomatic missions, or to send instructions and receive information back from the various lands under Yamato’s rule.  David Lurie notes that this was a kind of practical writing, and it wasn’t the same as the kind of extensive journaling that we would see later.

It makes sense that much of the laws and traditions at this time were probably based on memorized precedent.  Groups like the Kataribe were organized around an oral tradition, and even the Kojiki was based on a tradition of oral recitation that was still in place by the late 7th century.  I suspect that different families maintained their own memories of precedence and tradition, collectively advising on what should be done in any given situation.

This isn’t exactly the kind of legal system with firm and fast rules, with everyone equal under the law, and some sort of immutable code.  That wasn’t solely because it wasn’t written down, mind you—there are plenty of cultures with oral traditions that maintain very clear sets of laws.  However, in this case it was not written down and given what we see and what we know about later court, legal precedent was kept in the memories of various individuals in different families, all of whom were competing for their place in the hierarchical structure that had been created.  Therefore, as long as you could get enough people on your side, then you determined what was just and what was not.  And of course it was the winners who wrote—or at least remembered—the history.   Strong leadership may have been able to keep things stable, but during any change things could get messy, as we’ve seen time and again.  And had Anahobe and the Mononobe been triumphant we’d likely be reading a very different telling of events.

Hasebe’s ascension didn’t really change any of that, other than the person at the head of the system.  Still, things seemed to hold together alright, and with the recent purges, hopefully things would settle out after a while.

The reign started with the standard ceremonies.  Soga no Umako was confirmed as Oho-omi, and though other “Ministers and Daibu”, or high officials, were confirmed, nobody else is named.  Hasebe’s palace was set up at Kurahashi, presumably in the hills south of modern Sakurai.  His wife was Koteko, daughter of Ohotomo no Nukade.

In his first year, Baekje sent envoys that included Buddhist priests and relics, along with various Buddhist artisans.  We’ll probably touch on them more at a later date, but for now I’ll note that with their coming, Soga no Umako consulted with them on several matters regarding Buddhism, and then he went ahead and pulled down the house of a man named Konoha and started work on another temple.  This one was known as Hokoji, though it is more popularly known to us by its common name:  Asukadera.

Asukadera is perhaps the oldest purpose-built Buddhist temple commissioned by the state, and I think we can do an entire episode just on that temple alone.  The Chronicles make out that it was built to commemorate the supernatural support granted to Umako in his battle against Mononobe no Moriya, though it is impossible to know for certain how much of that is true.  What we can say is that this time there were no dissenting voices from the Mononobe nor the Nakatomi, and Asukadera would become one of the major temples of the Asuka period.  Later, when the capital was built up at Heijo-kyo, in modern Nara, the temple was moved to the new capital, and the complex in Asuka dwindled in importance.  Today you can still visit a temple at the site of Asukadera, but it is a shell of its former self, having been rebuilt on a much smaller footprint than before.   You can, however, go and see the original Buddha statue—or at least the reconstructed form of it, as the original icon was severely damaged in a fire at one point.

But building up a proper temple and pagoda in the continental fashion would all take time—for now it appears that they were just breaking ground on a new construction, rather than just repurposing a part of an existing house into the temple, as they had seemingly done in the past.  This was going to take some time. 

At the same time, it wasn’t just buildings that were needed, and we are told that several Buddhists returned to Baekje along with the envoys.  We are told that they were going to Baekje to gain further instruction in Buddhist teachings. This was the nun Zenshin, daughter of Shiba Tattou, and her companions, who had been ordained at the order of Soga no Umako to help staff his first attempt at building a worship site at his house.

The following year, in 589, we are told that there were three “inspections” that were sent out along the various circuits, or roadways, of eastern Honshu.  These circuits were regions of Japan, and come from a continental tradition that would be formalized in the law codes of the early 7th century.  Generally speaking there are usually 7 circuits—8 once Hokkaidou comes into the picture—and then the capital region, often known as the home territories around Yamato and the Nara basin.  Kyushu and Shikoku were each covered by their own circuits:  The Saikaidou, or Western Sea Circuit, covered all of Kyushu, and eventually the Ryukyu islands as well, while the Nankaidou, or Southern Sea circuit covered from the south of the Kii peninsula and the island of Shikoku.  Western Honshu was covered by another two circuits—there was the San’indou, the Mountain Yin Circuit, and the San’yodou, the Mountain Yang Circuit.  Yin being related to the dark and the north, the San’indou covered the areas to the north of the Western mountain range along the Japan Sea coast, from the land of Tanba west to Iwami, including the lands of Inaba and Izumo.  In contrast, Yang was related to the south, and so the San’yodou covered the regions from Harima, next to the land of Settsu, part of modern Ohosaka, and stretched along the southern side of the mountains to the Seto Inland sea to the western land of Nagato, part of modern Yamaguchi Prefecture, and included the ancient land of Kibi.

Finally, there were the three circuits of Eastern Honshu, which were the subject of the Chronicles entry in 589.  First off was the Tousando, or the Eastern Mountain Circuit.  Whereas western Honshu can be largely divided by the mountains into a northern and southern region, eastern Honshu was a little different, as the Japanese alps created difficulties that meant that the Tousandou covered the inland regions, starting at Afumi, around lake Biwa, out to Kenu—modern Gunma and Tochigi prefectures, north of Tokyo.  It would eventually include the distant regions of Dewa and Mutsu, which covered much of the Tohoku region up to Hokkaido, although those were still largely outside of the area of Yamato influence, and home to those that the Yamato court called Emishi.  The man sent to inspect this region was named Afumi no Omi no Kamafu—fitting given that Afumi was at the western end of the circuit.

Next they sent Shishibito no Omi no Kari to inspect the Toukaidou, or Eastern Sea circuit.  This circuit proceeded from Iga, Ise, and Owari, eastward along the Pacific coast to Hitachi, in modern Ibaraki prefecture.  It includes much of modern Tokyo, and is likely one of the more well known, if only for things like the JR Tokaido line.  This route became well traveled in the Edo period both for the daimyo processions of the sankin-kotai as well as the pilgrimages from Edo to Ise, and onward to points even further west.

Finally, we have a member of the Abe no Omi heading out to inspect the Hokurikudou, the Northern Land Circuit.  This was largely the area known in the Chronicles as Koshi, along the Japan Sea Coast.  The Abe family may have had some influence in that region, though it is said that they originally came from the land of Iga, just east of Yamato.  However, we aren’t given a specific individual’s name—Abe no Omi is just the family name and their kabane rank, and could indicate any member of the Abe family.  This may have to do with the actions of Abe no Hirafu in the late 7th century, but at this point in the story it is unclear.  We are provided the given names of the other inspectors, however—Kamafu and Kari—so it stands out that we have nothing for the inspector of the Hokurikudou other than their family name.

Other than the mention of the circuits, and the inspections that the court was conducting, this seems to be a fairly mundane entry—though it does link to some later events.  Still, it provides a little more evidence for the expansion of Yamato’s direct control.  The idea that there were court inspectors checking up on these territorial circuits suggests that they were a somewhat active part of the bureaucracy of the court.  Previously the court had set up the Miyake, or royal granaries, which were extensions of royal authority in various areas.  Now we see an additional layer of government that would have been going through the areas and making sure that things were being administered as Yamato believed.  It also suggests that there were those in these circuits who were beholden to Yamato in that they were required to produce some kind of evidence for what they were up to.

The year after, in 590, the big news was apparently the return to Japan of Zenshin and others, and we are told that they took up residence at a temple in Sakurai – very possibly a reference to Hokoji or Asukadera, the newly-founded temple we just discussed.  Asuka is outside of the modern bounds of Sakurai city, but at this time the name Sakurai may have referred to a slightly larger and more nebulous area.  On the other hand, they could have settled at another temple in the area that just wasn’t part of the state funded program.  In that same vein, later in 590 we are told that people went up into the hills to get timber for building Buddhist temples, and many more people, most of them with connections to the mainland, and especially the Korean peninsula, were ordained.  Buddhism was starting to grow more popular and it was being better patronized by the elites, and soon we will start to see more and more temples popping up.

In 591, we see the final burial of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  This was now many years since his death, but that isn’t entirely surprising given the fighting and general turmoil that followed his death.  Building a tomb mound was not exactly a simple feat, and if one wasn’t already prepared by the time he passed away, then it would have taken a while to prepare it—and even more time if much of your labor force was being split and repurposed in the fights for the throne.  As you may recall, Nunakura died of a disease, so it is unlikely that there had been a lot of preparation for his death, so we can assume that his body, after resting in the palace of temporary interment for a while, was eventually given a temporary burial and then they likely were reburying the bones several years later.  This isn’t exactly unheard of, but it does seem that this was an exceptionally long period between death and final burial.

The location of his tomb is said to be on the western side of the mountains, outside of the Nara Basin, in the area  of modern Taishi, in the south of Ohosaka.  This seems to have been a new region for royal burials, from what I can tell, but there would be several important Asuka era burials located in this region.

Later in that same year, Hasebe and the court indulged themselves in something that was becoming almost a tradition:  Wondering aloud if they should go marching over to the peninsula and re-establish Nimna.  There’s apparently no thought the fact that Nimna had not been a going concern for quite some time now, and this may have just been the popular casus belli of the Yamato court.  Of course, all of the ministers were for it, agreeing that it would be just the best if they could go over there and get Nimna started again.

And so they set in motion the necessary work of gathering an army.  This wasn’t a simple task and would take quite some time to get the word out, gather men together, and then have them all meet down in Tsukushi at the court’s outpost down there.  Not only that, but there would need to be boats made, and armor and weapons would have to be ready.  This was quite the undertaking.  We are told that they eventually gathered over 20,000 men, though that could easily be an exaggeration. 

They named five generals, or Taishogun.  This is different from the “Shogun” of later years—the Sei-I Taishogun, or General for Subduing Barbarians.  This is just the title of general, Taishogun, and there were apparently five people who were running things—possibly referring to five different forces that were going to go over, or it may have been a political thing to ensure that people of rank were given opportunities.  It is interesting to see the names, as we have heard some of the family names, at least, before.

The five generals were:  Ki no Womaro no Sukune, Kose no Omi no Hirafu, Kashiwade no Omi no Katafu, Ohotomo no Kuhi no Muraji, and Katsuraki no Wonara no Omi.  Then various other Omi and Muraji level individuals were placed in charge below them.  They were all stationed in Tsukushi and two men, Kishi no Kana and Kishi no Itahiko were sent to Silla and Nimna respectively, presumably to try to work something out before things got ugly.

That was all listed in the 11th month of 591, and preparations were still ongoing by the time of the next entry, in the 10th month of 592.

So remember how I mentioned at the top of the episode about how many of the systemic issues that had led to so much war and bloodshed were still a thing?  Yeah—despite the seemingly rosy and downright mundane picture of the last five years, things were apparently not quite as stable as they may have appeared.  And I say that because of what happened in the 10th month of 592.

We are told that this was the winter, possibly around late November or December according to our modern calendar—trying to map ancient lunar calendar dates to modern solar dates are a whole thing, trust me.  Anyway, it was during this season that someone brought in a wild boar and presented it to the sovereign.  And there was nothing too sus going on there—it wasn’t a white boar or some kind of unusually large animal.  No, what was remarkable wasn’t the presentation at all, but what it kicked off, because apparently Hasebe looked at the boar and made an off-hand comment, which Aston translates as: “When shall those to whom We have an aversion be cut off as this wild boar’s throat has been cut.”

Just in case you didn’t get the allusion, he was basically wondering when those people whom he didn’t like would be killed—though possibly he meant cut off in another sense, I think it is pretty clear that he wanted some people taken care of, if you know what I mean. 

I would liken it to a phrase attributed to King Henry II of England, who is said to have wondered aloud, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest”, which led to several men heading out and eventually killing Thomas Becket, the then Archbishop of Canterbury.  While Henry may not have actually ordered the killing of Thomas Becket, with whom he’d been in something of a power struggle, his words certainly ended up being the catalyst that led to the archbishop’s eventual demise.

Similarly here, that certainly seems to have been the intent, or at least that is how it was taken.  Word of the sovereign’s outburst made it back to none other than Soga no Umako, the Oho-omi himself, who grew more than a little bit worried.  It didn’t help that word was also coming that the royal household was apparently stockpiling weapons—more than usual.

Soga no Umako came to believe that Hasebe was talking about him, and though there wasn’t a particular reason given, it suggests that there were some things going on below the surface detailed by the Chronicles, and we can speculate on a few of them.

First off, Hasebe had not been the first choice for sovereign, and he didn’t really enter the picture until after the death of his brother, Prince Anahobe. Anahobe had, of course, believed that he should take the throne himself, but then he was killed.  It is possible that Hasebe was appointed sovereign to appease some of Anahobe’s supporters against the wishes of those such as Soga no Umako.

Second, it is clear that Umako was immensely influential and powerful, and he probably had more influence than the sovereign himself.  Always remember that if someone raises an army and helps put you on the throne, rather than themselves, they usually have the ability to do the same thing in reverse.  Or, as so many parents are fond of saying: I brought you into this world, I can take you out!  So it may be that Hasebe felt threatened by Umako’s own power and felt he needed to be dealt with before Soga no Umako decided that he’d rather have someone more pliable on the throne.  Of course, in another time it might have been enough to just demote him, but it is unclear if Hasebe actually had the power to do that—and if he did, would it stick.

There is also another option as well—Hasebe may not have said anything at all, and it is possible that this was a story concocted to explain Umako’s own reaction.  This is hinted at, somewhat, in another account that basically comes in once again with the tired “blame the woman” trope.  It suggests that Ohotomo no Koteko, Hasebe’s consort and the mother to his two children, started the whole thing as a rumor.  According to this account, she was “declining in favor”—although it is unclear just whom else she was competing against.  If that record is correct, she was the one who told Umako about what Hasebe was purportedly saying, knowing that it would cause problems for her husband because she was unhappy with him.  Even if that were true, we don’t know whether or not Hasebe actually said what is attributed to him.

Again, regardless of what Hasebe actually said, all of this suggests that things were not as solid and stable as they might otherwise appear to be, and suggests just how literally cut-throat the politics of the Yamato court could get.

And so, Soga no Umako took this threat quite seriously, and he engaged the services of one Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Koma.

We don’t know much about Koma.  The Yamato no Aya were one of several Aya families, and their name suggests that they were descended, at least in part, from ethnic Han Chinese weavers—or at least traced their lineage back to the continent with claims to the Han dynasty, just as the Hata family claimed ties back to the Qin dynasty.  They had been in Japan for generations, but are still often associated with various technologies that came over from the continent.

There is also a record, we are told, that says Koma’s father was Yamato no Aya no Iwai—whose name is suspiciously similar to that of the Iwai in Tsukushi, or Kyushu, who had allied with Silla and tried to block trade and military support between Yamato and Baekje.  It is possible, and even probable, that this was just a coincidence—after all, why would the son of a rebel who had so aggravated Yamato be in the court at all?  But it was considered significant enough for the Chroniclers to mention it at the same time, and that may be because of the relationship back to that other rebel.

Now, for Koma to take action, he and Umako would need to act quickly.  Soga no Umako sent a message to the court ministers and claimed that he was sending someone to present the taxes of the Eastern provinces.  As you may recall from earlier in this episode, a few years earlier inspectors had been sent out along the three eastern circuits.  It would have taken them time to survey, compile their information, and collect any taxes owed, and bring that back to the court.  Umako lied to the other ministers and said that the taxes were ready, and he was sending someone to the sovereign to present the taxes.

Of course, he was really sending Yamato no Aya no Koma, and in lieu of taxes he brought death—somewhat fitting if you think about it.  Koma killed the sovereign and then, somehow, made his escape.  Unlike some of the other killings we aren’t given too many details of the deed itself.

What we are given is the aftermath.  For later in that same month, Soga no Umako had Koma himself killed.  And this is where I find it really weird, or perhaps the Chroniclers were just in denial.  They claimed that Soga no Umako had learned that Koma had been having a clandestine relationship with Kawakami no Iratsume, herself a consort of the sovereign and Soga no Umako’s own daughter.  Koma had apparently taken her back to his place to live and made her his wife in secret—basically saying that they had carnal relations together as man and wife, though it is not clear whether or not they were consensual.  Umako thought that his daughter was dead, but when he learned that Yamato no Aya no Koma had taken her, he had Koma killed.

And that just all seems so very convenient.  So Soga no Umako has enough influence over Koma to get him to assassinate the sovereign, but somehow misses that his co-conspirator in this has eloped with his daughter, and then kills him out of apparently justified rage?  Uh-huh.  Nothing fishy about that at all.

I suspect that what happened at the time versus what was later recorded differed slightly.  Assuming that most of it was accurate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Umako got Koma to do the dirty deed, and then offed him, possibly so that he would not be immediately implicated.  Even so, what were the laws around such events?  With Hasebe gone, and nobody else in power to challenge him, Soga no Umako was one of the most powerful people around.  He just didn’t have the parental qualifications to take the throne himself.

And that is probably what saved him from being labeled a rebel, himself.  After all, you don’t get much more rebellious than killing the king.  But is it rebellion when it is self-defense?  Here is where the lack of a strict law code likely came down on the side of Soga no Umako, because despite his involvement, nobody seems to have gone after him or taken him to task.  In fact, he would remain a powerful figure in the Yamato court for years to come.

There are also several figures who seem to have remained absent from all of this, but it would be interesting to know where they came down.  The first was Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.  Did he sanction or even take part in this plot?  Umayado was still somewhat young, so he may not have had much to say at this point. 

Then there was Kashikiya Hime, Nunakura’s queen.  Presumably, she had been the one to recommend Hasebe to the throne, but we also see her hand in the decision to punish Anahobe and the Mononobe, which we discussed over the last couple of episodes.  She is often kept at arms length in the narrative, however, which may be because of what the Chroniclers already knew.  With the court once more in need of an heir they searched high and low, and the assembled ministers finally settled on the candidate they thought would be the best of all of them:  Kashikiya Hime herself.  It makes sense: Kashikiya Hime, who is known today as Suiko Tennou, clearly knew how the court operated.  She had sanctioned, if not outright directed, the deaths of Anahobe and Mononobe no Moriya.

On the other hand, the patriarchal society of the day—and even that of modern day scholars—questioned her fitness for the job.  Many have pointed to the strongman tactics of Soga no Umako, as well as the focus on Prince Umayado, whom she made her Crown Prince and whom, we are told, assisted in all areas of government.  In fact, it often seems as though Umayado and Umako are the ones actually running things, with Kashikiya Hime as a puppet.  On the other hand, perhaps there was something even more complex—a conspiracy between Umako, Umayado, and Kashikiya Hime.  She may have also been something of a compromise candidate, someone that all of the different factions could get behind.

We’ll explore all of that and more as we get into her reign in the coming episodes, along with the role played by Prince Umayado.  We’ll also look more in depth at the spread of Buddhism, and the temple building that would pick up shortly after Kashikiya Hime came to power. 

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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.