CW:  Discussion of sexual assault

This episode looks at a couple of the so-called "romantic" episodes in the life of the twelfth sovereign, including one found only in the Harima Fudoki, and starts to ask some serious questions about the seemingly contradictory timelines found in various sources.  Eventually, this will bring us to the middle of the 4th century, and ready to advance forward in the story.

For more go to: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-36-the-creep-stalker-sovereign

Rough Transcript:

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 36: The Creep-Stalker Sovereign

Quick content warning at the start of this one:  This episode contains discussion of rape and sexual assault, and that can be a particularly traumatic subject for some people.  Unfortunately, it forms an important part of the story of this sovereign.  So if you need to step out and come back next episode, I understand.  We’ll be here.  I’ll put up a summary on the podcast website, sengokudaimyo.com/podcast, and you can always join us for the next episode. 

So once again, we are still in the reign of the 12th sovereign, Oho Tarashi Hiko.  We talked about his campaigns against the Kumaso in the south, and then about his son, Yamato Takeru, and his military expansion in both the southwest and the northeast.  We’ve also generally made the assumption that this is happening some time around the early 4th century.

As we get into the current episode, I have to say, this is going to be a confusing one, and I’ll do my best to keep it on track, but as you’ll see as we go along, we have some contradictory evidence in the sources that really make the timeline go all Jeremy Bearimy on us, if you know what I mean, and sometimes we might get stuck in that dot above the “i”.  In fact, I started writing this one out thinking it would be fairly straightforward, and then I really took a look at what was in the fudoki, and then I started looking at the archaeology, and it all started to fall apart.  That’s entirely aside from the content warning I mentioned at the top of the episode.  I mean, I really get why most historians just gloss over this century.  So be ready, and I’ll tell you when we are about to hit the rapids.  In the end, though, we’ll come out on the other side, in what I hope will be more comfortable territory, even if we have to blast straight through the story of sovereign number Thirteen like an A-wing through the bridge of a star destroyer.

Before we get to that, though first, let’s talk about the two main accounts that I want to discuss here, and the reason for the title of this episode and the content warning up front.  We’ve talked about the wars and the fighting, and now it is time to talk love, not war. Or, well maybe not “love” exactly.

Yes, we are going to talk about various so-called “romantic” relationships in this episode, but they may not be exactly what one would expect or even what we would call romantic, today—or at least I hope we wouldn’t.   In some cases these are clearly non-consensual, and even where consent is implied or assumed, the power disparity between the actors must be taken into account.  While the Chronicles don’t put it so clearly, the accounts often describe what we would think of as rape in a modern context.  And I’m not sure that isn’t exactly what is being described.

And then there is the “pursuit” of women, against their wishes.  Glorified in romances, in real life this would be considered stalking, at best.  While there is very little that one might consider overtly graphic, the fact remains that “no means no” does not seem to have been a concept that these stories take into account.

Now, it is hard to say what is original to the stories and how much these stories changed over time before they got to our 8th century chroniclers—like the way Dracula, in Bram Stoker’s novel, could be out in the daylight just fine, but at some point the stories had vampires turning to dust at the sight of a powerful flashlight.  Things change in the retelling, and these are stories from what must have been an oral tradition, and it may be that certain elements were added at a later time to conform to what people of the day saw as romance.  This is little different than the way that we assume love must have always been a part of marriage throughout the ages, when in many cases it was almost more of a business arrangement, and if you happened to fall in love, well, that was a bonus.

A part of me has a hard time reconciling some of the strong female leaders of this period—governing huge areas, and eventually leading armies as well—with the figures we see in this particular episode.  The only explanation I can think of is that the stories were massaged over time to fit a particular narrative.

So yes, we are going to be talking about stories that were likely seen in their day as romantic tales of men overcoming the inhibitions of the ladies who are the objects of their affection, which sounds to me less like lovemaking and more like rape.  And this wasn’t just an 8th century concept.  At its height, this romantic trope can be seen in works such as the Tale of Genji, where even a female author gives credence to this male power fantasy that somehow a nonconsensual relationship will blossom into a healthy romance.  Diaries of the time, such as that of the Lady Nijou, detail how this idealized vision of intimacy often left much to be desired in the real world, and yet it continued to persist.  For more on this phenomenon in the Heian and Kamakura periods you may want to read an essay on our site by our late founder, Anthony J. Bryant, entitled “Forced Affection: Rape as the First Act of Romance in Heian Japan.”  We’ll have a link in the podcast notes on the website.

Well, even though it may not have all the elements of the later Heian romances, many of these relationships seem to fit the same mold.  The Chroniclers often seem to load noble and romantic overtones to them that I cannot be certain were there.  And so, as we recount these stories, please be cognizant of where we are getting them.  For my part, I will do my best to try to mediate the stories to some extent so you get the highlights of the encounter without any sort of tacit endorsement of the act itself.  Just as we discuss war, slavery, and many other historical atrocities, this is another aspect of the record that we are going to end up touching on again and again, no doubt.

The first of these stories we’re going to talk about isn’t even in the Chronicles themselves, but it comes from the Harima Fudoki.  Specifically, I’m going to be drawing a lot from the translation in Records of Wind and Earth: A Translation of Fudoki with Introduction and Commentaries, by Michiko Yamaguchi Aoki, which is what you will find on UC Berkeley’s Japanese Historical Text Initiative, at jhti.berkeley.edu.

Now the fact that this story is in the Harima Fudoki but not in the main Chronicles—not in the Kojiki, the Nihon Shoki, or the Kujiki – seems to indicate that it was the kind of oral tradition known and passed down locally in that region, but for some reason it either didn’t make it into or was explicitly excluded from the official histories for some reason.  But we can analyze that later.  Let’s get into the story which will start ever so romantically, with a land survey.

Once upon a time, the Prince of the Taka Anaho Palace in Shiga sent Hiko Namuchi, the ancestor of the Wanibe no Omi, to determine the boundaries of the province—or, at the time, country—of Harima—that is, the area roughly the southern areas of modern Hyougo prefecture, between Himeji and Ohosaka. When the royal surveyor, Hiko Namuchi arrived, Kibi Hiko and Kibi Hime, the chieftains of this area, came to see him. Hiko Namuchi then wed Kibi Hime, and she gave birth to a girl. This girl was Inami no Wake Iratsume, or Princess Wake, of Inami, Inami being an old district of Harima found between the modern cities of Himeji and Takasago.

Now it is said that Wake Iratsume’s beauty was unsurpassed. The sovereign, Oho Tarashi Hiko, heard of this and wished to marry this maiden, so he went to Harima to court her.  On the journey he wore a long sword decorated with carved jewels and a bright mirror—so all the bling to impress his future bride, or at least his would-be bride’s family. He also appointed a man named Okinaga to serve as his escort.  The name “Okinaga” will come up again later, so keep it in mind.

Oho Tarashi Hiko and his escort, Okinaga, arrived at the ford of Takase in Settsu—think modern Ohosaka, at a ford across the Yodo River. After a little haggling, they continued on, the sovereign and his escort—and no doubt the others that accompanied them—and they eventually arrived at Kashiwade no Miwi in the district of Akashi—west of modern Kobe—where he and his men took his meal.

Meanwhile just west of Akashi, in Kako, Princess Wake learned of the prince's journey to seek her hand in marriage and she fled in fear to an island—it is unclear, and perhaps unimportant, why she decided to hide.  After all, if this is the sovereign of Yamato, and marriage alliances are commonplace, wouldn’t this marriage have been advantageous to her?  Whatever her reasons, she apparently did not want his advances, and she fled her home. When Oho Tarashi Hiko arrived on the shores of Kako no Matsuhara—the pine groves of Kako—he found the princess gone, and the only sight that met his eyes was a white dog barking in the direction of the sea. The sovereign wondered about this, and inquired about the dog, asking who it belonged to.  A local chieftain, Suzumura no Obito, told him that it was Wake Iratsume’s dog.  Oho Tarashi Hiko put two and two together, then, and realized that Wake Iratsume must have fled in a boat. Oho Tarashi Hiko thanked the chieftain for his information and granted him a new name: Tsuge no Obito, or chief informant.

Having learned of the princess's whereabouts, the sovereign wished to cross the straits to the island where Wake Iratsume was hiding from him. He went to Ahe harbor, Oho Tarashi Hiko ordered a wharf to be built of young tree branches from which he embarked for the island.  This is thought to be near present-day Ae-mura, in the Kako district.

Upon reaching the island and seeing the princess for the first time, the Oho Tarashi Hiko's first words to her were, “My beloved wife who has been hiding on this island”: "Kono Shima no Nabihashi tsuma." The island then became known as Nabitsuma.  Where exactly this island was is not entirely clear, but it was likely at the mouth of the Kako river in modern Takasago city.  It may even have been an island that is no longer there, given all the changes that have happened to the coastline of the Seto Inland Sea over the centuries, just like what we saw with the “sea” or “bay” at Kibi and Kawachi.

Oho Tarashi Hiko found Wake Iratsume on her island, and, according to the Harima Fudoki, he tied his boat to hers—I don’t know about you, but that sounds to me like he had found her and wasn’t going to let her go.  He then went and gave his escort, Okinaga, a new name: Ohonaka no Ishiji, or Ishiji the grand intermediary.  Oho Tarashi Hiko then guided their boats back to the mainland.

Upon returning to the mainland the couple journeyed to the village of Mutsugi in the district of Inami in order to conduct their mutsu-bigoto, or “lovers' talk” for the first time—a euphemism for sexual activity, and once again I would note that she *did* run away from him, and there really isn’t any indication that consent was requested nor required.  To tell the truth, it doesn’t sit well with me, but that’s the story we have.

Now apparently Oho Tarashi Hiko wasn’t pleased with that place where they first coupled. He complained that the sound of waves and cries of birds there were annoying. And so he and his new wife moved to a palace built on higher ground, the site of which later came to be called Takamiya—the palace on the high ground.

Several buildings were added to the palace grounds. There was a sake brewery, a pantry and/or kitchen, and the basement or pit-constructed storehouse, or muro.  The Fudoki lists locations named after all of these sites.

For his wedding ceremony, the prince moved to a newly constructed fortified palace, or Kimiya. After the ceremony, he presented his escort, Okinaga, aka Ohonaka no Ishiji, with one of the palace's ladies-in-waiting. This was Hisura, a daughter of the Izumo no Omi. When Okinaga passed away, his grave was located in Harima, west of the posting-station of Kako.

Years passed and Princess Wake died at the kimiya, the fortified palace. For her grave, Oho Tarashi Hiko chose a site on Hiwoka.

However, as the funeral procession was crossing the Inami River, tragedy struck.  A cyclone rose from downstream, causing the waves to suck the Wake Iratsume’s body into the river. It was never recovered: only her comb box and scarf were found. The funeral was conducted with the burial of these two objects in her stead. That is why the place is called Hire Haka, or scarf tomb.

Grief-stricken, the prince swore never to eat another fish from this river. As a result, ayu caught in the Inami River could not be used as tribute presented to the court.

In later years Oho Tarashi Hiko himself became ill. Medicine was sent for, and a new palace was constructed at his request in Kako no Matsuhara—the pine grove area of Kako.  Serious illness was seen as a pollutant, and so it was often considered important to move to a new location to avoid a new calamity.

And that’s about all we have in the Harima Fudoki.  There are other accounts about Oho Tarashi Hiko in Harima, mainly just handing out various placenames, but other than showing his activity in the stories of the area, I don’t see a lot more about him, specifically.

So what’s going on here?  Why are we bothering to talk about it and what is so very interesting about it?

Well, first off, the story is a bit, well, bonkers, really.  I mean, think about it:  The ruler of Yamato travels to Harima, chasing after a beautiful woman, and once he snags her—and makes sure she is his by engaging her in sex—he sets up in Harima, living with her until her death, and then, even beyond that.

If that’s the case, who’s running the government?  Did he pick up and move the entire court and move it away from the sacred Mt. Miwa?  That hardly seems right.

And then there are a few other things in here:  The idea that the apparent rulers of Harima were Kibi Hiko and Kibi Hime—does that mean that Harima was actually a part of Kibi?  Was this entire episode somehow related to the old country—or even kingdom—of Kibi somehow?  There is also an interesting account at the ford across the Yodo river where Oho Tarashi Hiko is essentially told that the ferryman is not one of his citizens—that Oho Tarashi Hiko isn’t his ruler.  And while the boatman is not some repressed peasant member of some anarcho-syndicalist commune, Oho Tarashi Hiko will need to pay his way.  This would seem to go counter to the impression in the Chronicles that the sovereigns of Yamato already had complete control over the entire archipelago.

But perhaps we can suggest that maybe it is an exaggeration.  After all, the Fudoki was all about trying to figure out why places were named as they were, and often created clearly false etymologies to try to explain placenames that people no longer understood.  Perhaps much of this can be seen in that light.  Even without those accounts, there is someone more central to this story, and that is, of course, Inami no Wake Iratsume, the victim of Oho Tarashi’s lustful hunt.  Now it is true that we don’t have a Wake Iratsume, exactly, listed in any of the Chronicles, but we do have two ladies from Harima who were said to be Oho Tarashi’s wives or consorts. These are Harima no Inabi no Oho Iratsume and Harima no Inabi no Waka Iratsume.  Just like Inami no Wake Iratsume, they were said to be descended from a lord of Kibi—in this case Waka Hiko Take Kibi-tsu-Hiko, as opposed to Hiko Namuchi and Kibi Hime, but still there is the Kibi connection.

Perhaps even more important, though, is that Oho Iratsume is not just any wife of Oho Tarashi Hiko.  She is actually the mother of Oho Tarashi Hiko’s most famous son and the eventual progenitor of the future royal lineage, Yamato Takeru no Mikoto, whose legendary exploits we explored in the past couple of episodes.  In the Chronicles she is elevated as Oho Tarashi Hiko’s queen, and her son is not only given credit for subduing the archipelago, but he was eligible to succeed his father—the language of the Chronicles even uses terms that are normally reserved for actual ruling sovereigns.

So why wouldn’t her story be included in the Chronicle?  Wouldn’t this seem to be something that would have elevated the story of the royal lineage?

In the Nihon Shoki, Harima no Inabi no Oho Iratsume—or possibly Waka Iratsume—was made queen in the second year of Oho Tarashi Hiko’s reign, implying that they were already married at that point.  In the Harima Fudoki account, however, it would seem to imply that he must have still been in Harima, at that point.  The chronicle further suggests that it would be about 10 years before Yamato Takeru was born—but we already know those dates can’t be trusted.

Oho Iratsume then passed away some 40 years or so after that—again, the dates are hardly reliable.  That the single line that is the entry for her passing immediately follows a list of Yamato Takeru’s own wives and offspring, which itself is part of the epilogue to Yamato Takeru’s career, suggests that the date was one of convenience.

Either way, once Oho Iratsume passes away, a new queen arrives on the scene.  And the story of how she came to be a part of Oho Tarashi Hiko’s harem has further interesting parallels with the story of Wake Iratsume in the Harima Fudoki.

Now, we already know the story of Oho Tarashi Hiko and the beauties of Mino—the two sisters that were said to be so beautiful that Oho Tarashi Hiko sent Oho’usu no Mikoto to fetch them and bring them back to him in Yamato.  Of course, Oho’usu was the elder brother of the Prince who would be known as Yamato Takeru, and another son of Inabi no Oho Iratsume.  Prince Oho’usu no Mikoto’s betrayal, taking the sisters as his own, was the start of bad blood between him and his father—bad blood that led to either his death or exile, depending on the story.

There are a few details about that story that don’t quite match up across the various versions.  In the Nihon Shoki, the daughters were Ane Tohoko and Oto Tohoko, daughters of Kanbone, the Kuni no Miyatsuko of Mino.  In the Kojiki they are Ye Hime and Oto Hime, daughters of Ohone no Miko.  In general, the assumption is that the Nihon Shoki is more reliable in these matters, as it seems to have been compiled directly from the various sources where the Kojiki seems more likely to take liberties, which I assume is due to its raison d’etre as an oral tradition—therefore, even if the original stories came from the same texts, originally, whose to say that they remained intact as they were incorporated into one giant magnum opus of a performance?

Still, the names do seem to contain elements that suggest to me—with my admittedly limited understanding of ancient Japanese—well, it seems to suggested “older” and “younger” princesses—whether “Ane” or “Ye” Hime and “Oto” Hime.  So functionally, they are still the same story.

However, I find it interesting that there is *yet another* story of a woman from Mino found in the Nihon Shoki, but conspicuously absent from the Kojiki.  This is the story of a //different// “Oto Hime”.  That’s right, we have the first story I told you, with the apparently-younger sister, Oto Hime of Mino, and here we have another story about a different “Oto Hime of Mino”. She is the daughter of one “Yasaka Iribiko”, who appears to be a child of the previous sovereign, Ikume Iribiko and one of his wives, Ohoama Hime.  That’s right, this story is about a woman who is technically Oho Tarashi Hiko’s own niece, by modern reckoning—though as you may recall, children of different mothers were not considered true siblings.

So Oho Tarashi Hiko had heard about his beautiful niece, Oto Hime, daughter of Yasaka Iribiko, who was living in the country of Mino.  And so he made a royal trip out to Mino to go and meet her for himself.

It seems, however, that the princess had other ideas.  I don’t know if it was just the idea of marrying her uncle that seemed wrong, or that he was a stranger to her, but whatever her reasons, Oto Hime went to hide in a nearby bamboo grove as soon as she heard him approach.  Sound familiar?  I don’t know what it was about Oho Tarashi Hiko, but it seems that the women were not exactly throwing themselves at him.  Also, the Nihon Shoki demonstrates an apparent anachronism in specifically mentioning that she heard his “carriage” approach, though, along with ox and horses, that would still seem to be some distance into the future for the archipelago, and it could be an indication that this story is a bit out of place.

Eventually, it seems that Oto Hime’s hiding place was discovered, and Oho Tarashi HIko had her installed at the Kuguri Palace, but it seems she still kept as far away from him as she could.  And so he devised a plan to lure her out of hiding.  Oho Tarashi Hiko had a pond near the palace filled with koi—the colorful carp that are so famous in Japanese gardens, even today.  Then, every morning, he would amuse himself by going over the pond and watching the fish.

Over time, Oto Hime, who could see all of this, began to grow curious about what was just so interesting in the pond, and so she decided that she wanted to see for herself.  And so, one day, when she thought nobody was around, she left the palace to go take a look at them.

Of course, as Admiral Akbar could tell you:  this was all just a trap, laid by none other than the sovereign himself, and as soon as she came out, Oho Tarashi Hiko appeared.  He detained her, and there, for all of his apparent waiting, he had his way with her.  Once again, whether she was willing or not doesn’t enter into the picture in the Chronicle’s mind, and given her reaction I would suggest that this was a forced, one-way coupling.  In other words:  rape.

Oto Hime was distraught and protested.  She had not been looking to get married and she made some comments about being too homely, even for the side courts of the sovereign’s palace.  The way the account reads in Aston’s translation of the Nihon Shoki, it feels like the Chroniclers were praising Oto Hime for her modesty, but that seems to ignore the probable trauma that such an encounter likely engendered.

In fact, Aston tends to be more prudish in his translation in general, and I feel John Bentley’s translation of the Kujiki account, which seems to be roughly the same, gives Oto Hime more voice.  There she states:  “I am not fond of sexual relations between men and women.  And now I cannot bear your presence, and have hid myself within the curtains of my palace.  However, my heart finds no joy there.  Also, my figure is filthy and I cannot bear to serve in your Highness’s inner court.  I have an older sister named Yasaka Iribime whose form is beautiful, and her intentions are chaste.  Please put her into the inner palace.”

On the one hand, that could be read as modesty from someone who does not feel worthy and does not want the pressure of being queen.  On the other, I think people can just as easily recognize in it the feeling of too many victims of sexual assault, where blame is too often internalized by society’s insistence that women remain “pure”, along with the mistaken idea that she is now damaged goods.

There is also a part of me wonders if that line about not being fond of sexual relations between men and women—Aston simply states that she is not fond of conjugal intercourse—isn’t some recognition of an early lesbian or asexual identification, not that we can necessary apply those modern labels neatly to such a distant culture.  Though, if so it is just one more example of violence not only to women but to non-hetero-conforming individuals.

In the end, Oho Tarashi Hiko relented, and he installed Oto Hime’s sister, Yasaka Iribime, in the hinder palace—effectively making her his chief wife.  Or, at least, she would become his chief wife, eventually.  Because as you may remember, Oho Iratsume was apparently the official queen, at least according to the Nihon Shoki.  And this causes me to pause for a moment. As I said, Yasaka Iribime was installed in the “hinder” palace, and you might think that sounds like she is being put in a shed out back, hidden away.  But here we should take a quick detour into some architectural history. 

Now, it is unclear to me exactly what the palaces of the Kofun era sovereigns was like, but the idea of multiple “palaces”—referring to separate buildings as part of the royal estate—certainly makes sense in light of the palace complex and noble mansions of the later periods, when the Chronicles were written.  Of course, there is also a continental element to it, since much of the 7th and 8th aristocratic culture was pulling a lot from continental traditions. 

In later periods, the mansions of the nobility would often be lain out in a very similar pattern.  The main building, typically facing south, would be the central area, and then various other buildings might be built to accompany it, sitting to the east or west, or even behind the central building to the north—never to the south, though, blocking the view.  Now, a nobleman typically didn’t sleep in the same room as his wife, but rather he would install his wives or mistresses in the various buildings—palaces, or palaces—which would be their domain, with their own rooms, servants, etc.  Women might even come to be known by the location in the estate.  And so, in the Tale of Genji, we are introduced to characters such as the Ladies Kiritsubo and Fujitsubo, named for their respective pavilions where they were installed.  It was also common to refer to the senior, or main, wife as the “Kita no Tai”, or “Northern Palace”, indicating the building directly behind the central palace, or shinden, where the lord would sleep.  Even today, a wife might be known as “Oku-san”—literally, the person inside or the person in the back of the house.  So the south-facing courtyard would be the “front” of the house, and the back, or “hinter”, buildings would be in the north.

This isn’t just a Japanese tradition, and even on the continent, the personal quarters of the sovereign were located in the “back” of the administrative and ritual areas of the court.  This same layout can be seen if you visit the famous Forbidden City in Beijing.  It is a practical layout—just like the mullet hairstyle it is business in the front and party in the back.

Whether or not the 3rd and 4th century palaces were laid out like this is not exactly clear.  First of all, according to the Chronicles, the early palaces were moved regularly, with each new sovereign relocating their palace, though sometimes just a little ways from where the old palace had been.  It is perplexing to wonder just how big these complexes could have been if they were moved with such frequency.

On the other hand, we do have a glimpse of what the palace may have looked like, at least in the third century, with the ruins of the Makimuku palace.  Only a portion of the overall site has been excavated, but from that, we know that there was a large complex of buildings arranged along a common axis.  These were raised buildings, likely similar to the buildings seen at shrines, which are thought to preserve many elements of older Japanese architecture.  Their location can be surmised, therefore, from the postholes dug into the ground.  At the Makimuku site we have evidence of at least three buildings inside an enclosed fence of some kind, and one outside on the same axis.  These buildings seem to have faced in a generally westward direction, and the largest building was the one furthest East, towards Mt. Miwa.

Now, we don’t really know what other buildings may have been around.  Some artists depict a reconstruction as barren, focusing only on the known buildings, while other build them out with considerably more, basing their conjectured renderings on similar buildings and compounds.

Either way, there is clearly a compound of multiple buildings.  And while it isn’t entirely clear if the buildings included the actual living quarters or if they were purely for administrative and ritual functions, it wouldn’t be entirely inconceivable that there could have been independent residences within the larger estate for spouses and family members.  The Weizhi’s account of Himiko indicates that she had a large staff of servants that cared for her, and that she lived her life away from the public eye.

And so it is possible that the tradition of ensconcing spouses within their own residences on the palace grounds could have been a tradition at this time.  But it seems just as possible that this is merely a phrase from centuries later.  Either way, I get the meaning:  Yasaka Iribime was designated as the queen, and her sons were therefore considered potential heirs to the sovereign.  And she gave hm seven sons and six daughters, the two most important sons would seem to be Waka Tarashi Hiko and Ihoki Iribiko—the two who would, along with Yamato Takeru, be considered potential heirs to the sovereign.  And, in fact, Waka Tarashi Hiko is the future sovereign:  Seimu Tennou.

Of course, it is always possible that the timeline is just off, and she wasn’t installed as the queen until after Oho Iratsume had passed away, and that phrasing like that in the story was just a kind of shorthand.  But then we also have the problem of reconciling it with the Harima Fudoki’s story of how Oho Tarashi Hiko apparently stayed in Harima until Inami no Wake Iratsume’s death.  If that really is the same as Harima no Inabi no Oho Iratsume, then when did he take this break to go see Oto Hime, and in which palace did he install her sister?  I could see why the Chroniclers may have glossed over such details, as it really doesn’t make for a great story.

But since we are back on the subject of the Harima Fudoki account, I have to say, the theme here does seem somewhat redundant.  When you compare the story of Oto Hime with the story of Wake Iratsume you have some similar elements:  the sovereign hears of a great beauty and decides, without consulting her, that she should be his wife.  He goes to find her, but she hears of his approach and hides herself away.  He eventually finds her, draws her out of where she is hiding, and then forces himself on her, effectively claiming her through the sexual act.  In the case of Oto Hime, she still rebuffs him and redirects his lust to her apparently more willing sister—though again, consent is neither requested nor given in any explicit context.  In the case of Wake Iratsume, he stays with her and makes a life for himself, something that is not found anywhere in the main Chronicles.

And now let me throw one more thing at you.  Our current subject, Inami no Wake Iratsume?  Her father, according to the fudoki, was sent during the reign of the Prince of the Taka Anaho palace, in Shiga.

That may seem innocuous, until you realize that there were only two sovereigns that would fit the description.  I mean, it is possible that it could be a reference to Oho Tarashi HIko.  After all, he’s the one that moved the court there, at least according to the Nihon Shoki.  But he was only there three years before he passed away, and it would seem odd that he sent the person who became the father of his eventual bride—and even if he did, would they really be remembered for the palace he was in at the end of his life?  And wouldn’t the Fudoki have continued referring to him that way, instead of using “Oho Tarashi Hiko”?

No, it probably wasn’t him, which means it more likely refers to Seimu Tennou, aka Waka Tarashi Hiko, Oho Tarashi Hiko’s son by his queen Yasaka Iribime—the sister to Oto Hime, whom we talked about earlier in the podcast, who was recognized as queen after the death of Harima no Inabi no Ohoiratsume.  So that would mean that Oho Tarashi Hiko married the daughter of a man sent by his son before he married his son’s mother, if we try to assume all of this is true.

Is your head spinning?  Mine is.  While we are at it, let’s throw in one more thing:  The chronicles are virtually silent on the accomplishments of Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka the supposed 13th sovereign, Seimu Tennou.  In a comparison of the entries in the various chronicles, John Bentley notes that the Kojiki only gives Waka Tarashi Hiko four lines.  He gets fourteen in the Kujiki and 21 in the Nihon Shoki, which fills in most of it with continental style speeches that laud his father and predecessor, and some rather trite notes about ensuring that various lords were established and rice granaries—literally rice castles, inaki—were established.  He also makes his best friend, Takechi no Sukune, prime minister.  But that’s it.  He doesn’t even have any heirs to mention.  His main job seems to be to pass the job on to his nephew, Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, the second of three sons by Yamato Takeru and Futaji no Iribime.  Seriously, some of the fictional kings between our first ruler, Iware Biko, and 10th, Mimaki Iribiko, have more to their names than he does.

I see several possibilities for sorting this out.  Most of it revolves around the idea that the Tarashi dynasty—as opposed to the preceeding two “Iribiko” sovereigns—was perhaps more connected to Oumi, the area around Lake Biwa, than to Nara, and the order of events is not quite correct.  Also, many of these names—Oho Tarashi Hiko, Waka Tarashi Hiko, etc.—could be nothing more than titles, rather than true names, just like Yamato Takeru.  Furthermore, in the Fudoki, they don’t explicitly mention Waka Tarashi HIko, they simply mention the Prince, or sovereign, of Taka Anaho Palace, in Shiga.  What if that was another ruler from that area, who preceded Oho Tarashi Hiko?  And what if Oho Tarashi HIko—or at least the Oho Tarashi Hiko in this story—was also from Oumi, and not from Yamato? That would help explain why his pilot and escort was named Okinaga, a location in Oumi, so closer to Shiga than to Yamato.

If you remember back in the story from the fudoki, Okinaga no Ishiji was the pilot and escort who helped Oho Tarashi Hiko to navigate his way to Harima and eventually to his bride-to-be.  The fudoki tells us that Okinaga was an ancestor of the Yama no Atahi family, in the Kamo district of the future Harima province.  There are at least three members of the Yama no Atae family mentioned in the postscript of a sutra copied in 734 in Kamo province.  So they probably kept some of their family stories which were incorporated into the narrative.

Of course, “Okinaga” also shows up in the Harima Fudoki in another name as well, and that is in the name “Okinaga Tarashi Hime”, which is to say JINGUU, the regent—or, perhaps, sovereign, and we’ll get to all that in later episodes—who went to war on the Korean peninsula.  Okinaga Tarashi Hime was the daughter of Okinaga no Sukune no Miko, whom the Chronicles tell us was a great grandson of Hiko Imasu, one of the brothers of Mimaki Iribiko—aka SUJIN TENNOU, the 10th sovereign.

Now, true, Okinaga Tarashi Hime seems to have mostly a passing relationship with Harima, pun fully intended, as all puns should be.  We’ll cover this more when we get to her episode, but mostly we get accounts of her travel through the region on her way to or from the Korean peninsula.  There is one entry, however, that implies she actually fought a battle there in Harima, but it is unclear, and not exactly supported elsewhere.  But, again, we can cover that all in a later episode.

What I’m really wondering about right now is whether or not this Okinaga, mentioned in this story, is the same “Okinaga no Sukune” who is supposed to be the father of the future warrior-shaman-princess, Okinaga Tarashi Hime.

Well, despite all the connections, with lines that I’m sure Steve Carlsburg could trace easily across a dark night sky, I still have questions.  For instance, nowhere in the Fudoki does it talk about Wake Iratsume’s children, if there were any—you would think that Yamato Takeru would get at least a cameo, here or there.  And then there are all these references to their palaces and living arrangements, and then Wake Iratsume’s eventual illness and death, all in Harima, and not in Yamato.  It is enough to make one wonder if Oho Tarashi Hiko was really even ruling from Yamato all this time, or if he even really existed.

Personally, I feel like we are looking at an attempt to cover up a seam in the narrative.  It is almost like a poor Photoshop attempt, where you can’t quite make out what was there originally, but it is clear that someone has been deliberately obscuring something and possibly adding another person to the group.  In this case, that could possibly be an attempt at stitching together two separate royal lines.

And this gets us into territory that could probably be considered a bit impolitic.  You see, the Imperial Household Agency of Japan maintains that the current emperor is a direct descendant of Iware Biko, and there is pride in the idea that every ruler was a direct descendant of Amaterasu Ohokami through the same lineage.

However, not everyone trusts that this concept is correct.  As we’ve mentioned before, there is some thought that we are seeing multiple royal dynasties from different areas.  Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko seem to be clearly part of the Miwa Polity.  Next, however, we have this rather confused entry for Oho Tarashi Hiko, who is followed by other Tarashi rulers—Waka Tarashi Hiko, Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, and Okinaga Tarashi Hime.  In the Chronicles, Oho Tarashi Hiko takes one giant leap in the last three years of his life:  He moves his palace—and thus the capital—out of Makimuku, at the foot of the holy mountain of Mt. Miwa, all the way to the Taka Anaho palace in Shiga, in the country of Chikatsu-Oumi, or nearby Oumi.  This is on the western shores of Lake Biwa in modern Ootsu City, at the eastern foot of Mt. Hiei.

Why would any ruler make such a drastic change to the location of their palace and the government?  It boggles the mind.  Unless, of course, something else is going on.  Things are already confused, what with Yamato Takeru apparently taking credit for all of the conquest that others seem to have accomplished.  Yamato Takeru, who is neither an “Iribiko” nor a “Tarashi” and yet is in most respects treated like a sovereign in his own right.  And remember, Oho Tarashi Hiko is supposed to have married one of Yamato Takeru’s own descendants, too.

What if we are seeing some confusion because what we are really seeing are several stories, all probably from around the early-to-mid-4th century, that had to be pieced together and were put under these general rulers?  Well, there is still some question as to their order, but perhaps there were other things in the sources they just couldn’t quite get around.

Regardless, there is an odd parallel to what the archaeology tells us—something that might have been known to our intrepid compilers, at least in the most abstract of terms.  Gina Barnes lays this out in her book, the Archaeology of East Asia: The Rise of Civilization in China, Korea, and Japan.  In discussing the Miwa polity with their center around the Makimuku district, she notes that things seem to have fallen apart around the mid-4th century.  Oho Tarashi Hiko’s supposed mausoleum, which does seems to date from sometime around the 4th century, at least, is, in fact, found in the Makimuku.  This is the large keyhole tomb known as Shibutani Mukaiyama. 

This kofun is somewhat interesting in that Kishimoto Naofumi identifies certain features that distinguish it from the shape of what he terms the “Main Line” kofun—those that are most like Hashihaka Kofun.  These include Hashihaka, Nishi-tono-zuka, and Andon’yama.  The line of Shibutani-Mukaiyama is traced by Kishimoto as Sakurai-Cha’usu-yama, Me-suri-yama, and then Shibutani-Mukaiyama as well as Saki-Misasagi Yama, which is said to have been the tomb of Hibasu Hime, the queen of Ikume Iribiko and Oho Tarashi Hiko’s supposed mother.  Of course we have discussed how these early designations are hard to take at face value, but it is still interesting that this is seems to be one of the last large round-keyhole tombs in the region of Mt. Miwa.

And when I say that it seems like two other kofun—Sakurai-Cha’usu-yama and Mesuriyama kofun—these are round keyhole tombs that are part of a southern group, south of Mt. Miwa, while Hashihaka and that line of tombs, seems more similar to others north of Mt. Miwa, which goes to that idea of two separate lines that we’ve discussed a bit in previous episodes.

Regardless of who is actually buried where, whatever political system those rulers had put in place seems to have collapsed.  Whereas the period before this saw the apparently peaceful growth of the Mounded Tomb Culture—despite the presence of armor and weapons in some of the tombs—whatever was holding things together seems to have slipped, and she notes that iron became more important for the waging of war than merely as an agricultural implement.  This would seem to pair well with the general stories we see in Oho Tarashi’s reign—whether it is the sovereign himself, Yamato Takeru, or someone else, these stories are about military conflict and conquest in a way that even the notes of the four commanders of Mimaki Iribiko’s time was not.

In the next episode, we’ll explore this some more.  We’ll leave behind our creep-stalker sovereign and the confused stories of the Chronicles and look at  what else is going on, because it is the very turmoil on the peninsula that may be helping to drive some of the political instabilities on the islands.  We’ll review what we’ve seen of the Miwa polity and try to set the stage for our next sovereigns:  Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, aka Chuuai Tennou, and his wife and regent, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, the legendary Jingu Tennou, who managed to postpone pregnancy for three years just so she could go lead an army on the Korean peninsula.  And for all of her troubles she still gets left out of the official count because she is only a “regent”, but we will give her her due, don’t you worry.

Until then, thank you for all of your support.  If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.  Questions or comments?  Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.

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