The Jinshin no Ran Part III: Fighting in the Nara Basin

In this third installment of our series on the Jinshin no Ran, we are covering the battles that took place in the Nara basin.   Of course, while the fighting focuses on the generals, most of it was done by conscripts--farmers and other common people called up to fight.

For more, check out of podcast webpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-131

 

Rough Transcript:

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 131: The Jinshin no Ran, Part 3: Fighting in the Nara Basin

 

Maro stood under the tsuki tree and gazed at the walls of the great temple.  The gates and tiled roof were truly an incredible sight.  Maro’s home wasn’t that far away, but until he’d been called up for service to the government, he hadn’t thought much beyond the valley where he and his family tilled the land.  Their life had been largely spent in the village, tucked up in the valley, farming rice, hunting in the mountains, and gathering firewood.   He remembered how, years ago, his brothers had been the ones to go and do their service.  They had been called up to build some kind of giant fortress on the top of a mountain.  The stories they  brought back were incredible—it was one thing to hear tales of the outside world from merchants and itinerant priests, but it was different to hear them from someone you actually knew. 

Now, it was Maro’s turn.  But he hadn’t been called up for labor—he was going to have to fight.  He tried to psych himself up.  Many of the men and, frankly, young boys who were there with him were in a similar boat.  Some were old hands, having served multiple times.  Others were new and, like Maro, there for the first time.  None of them were professional soldiers, though you wouldn’t know that by the way some of them swaggered through the camp. 

They had been called up quickly, with only a little information.  Apparently Prince Ohoama, they were told, had rebelled against the government.  He and his men were gathering in the east and at any moment they could attack the capital in Ohotsu, and from there they would swing down and attack the ancient capital.  So here they were, several hundred conscripts, pulled from households around the ancient capital, gathered and waiting for their weapons and armor so that they could then get their marching orders—quite literally.

Suddenly, Maro heard a commotion in the north.  He couldn’t see what was happening, but the murmurs turned to shouting.  Prince Takechi, the son of the demonic rebel, Ohoama, was here, coming from the north with hundreds of expert soldiers on horseback! 

Panic set in, and even though a few of the officers tried to quell the disturbance, it wasn’t enough.  Afraid for what might come, Maro and those like him broke ranks and fled.  Maro gave little thought to what might happen to his family and friends if he deserted—he was no longer thinking rationally.  Along with his compatriots—his would-be brothers-in-arms if they had been given any—he hoped that he could hide, and that, if he survived, maybe, just maybe, he could somehow make it back home in one piece.

 

Welcome back.  Content warning for this episode—we are going to be talking about war, including death, fighting, and suicide.

As I noted at the start, this is part three of our look at the Jinshin no Ran, the Jinshin War—sometimes translated as a “Disturbance” or a “Rebellion”.  This was the war between the supporters of Prince Ohoama, also known as Temmu, and Prince Ohotomo, aka Koubun.  Ohoama’s side is sometimes called the Yoshino or even the Yamato court, as he had quote-unquote “retired” from the world and become a monk at a temple in Yoshino, south of Asuka, in the old area of Yamato.  Meanwhile, Ohotomo’s supporters were the Afumi court—including most of the ministers running the state from the capital in Ohotsu, on the shores of lake Biwa, the area known as Afumi. 

So let’s take a look at what has happened so far, and then we can get into the events we are talking about today: a look at the soldiers who were fighting, their gear, and then some of the fighting that went on—specifically the fighting that happened in the Nara Basin.  I’ll do my best to organize things based on the rough timeline that they seem to have occurred.

Now previously, we had covered how Ohoama, brother to Naka no Oe aka Tenchi Tennou, had given up his title as Crown Prince and retired, supposedly to prevent any concerns that he might rebel and try to take the throne, but this wasn’t enough for Ohotomo and the Court, who had begun to raise forces against him.  And so Ohoama and his supporters had just made a desperate dash eastwards, across the mountain roads to Ise.  From there they secured the Fuwa and Suzuka passes, two of the main routes to the East Countries.  Ohoama had then sent out requests for assistance to those same countries, hoping to find allies who would support him against the apparently legitimate government in Ohotsu.

We are told that Ohoama was joined at this time by two of his sons: Prince Takechi and Prince Ohotsu. And here I want to pause to note something that I didn’t point out last episode: These princes were not quite as old as you might think from the way they are portrayed in the Chronicle.  Prince Takechi, who had been given command of the troops at Fuwa Barrier, was only 19 years old.  Granted, that is only 4 years younger than their rival, Prince Ohotomo, and only a couple of years younger than the famous Minamoto Yoshitsune would be when he joined his brother in the Genpei Wars, over 500 years later.  Prince Ohotsu, however, was a bit younger, as he is believed to have been about 10 years old at this time, which likely explains why he is not so prominent in the narrative. 

I mention this because the Nihon Shoki often omits details like age and can make it seem like these were all seasoned adult men and women, when it may have been that they were simply of high enough status to be mentioned, even though others were likely running their affairs for them.  In Prince Takechi’s case, while he was likely old enough to take charge of the forces at Fuwa, it is also clear that his father was nearby and overseeing things, so everything didn’t rest solely on his son’s shoulders.

Meanwhile, the Afumi court was raising its own soldiers.  While their delegation to the East was stopped at the captured Fuwa Pass, they also had sent word to the west.  Kibi and Tsukushi are specifically mentioned, but we know that they were raising troops elsewhere, including in the home province regions of Yamato and Kawachi.

Here it should be noted that the Nihon Shoki is pretty clearly pro-Temmu, in other words pro-Ohoama.  There is some evidence from textual analysis, however, that the Temmu portions of the narrative differ from the Tenchi portions.  Torquil Duthie, in his book, “Man’yōshū and the Imperial Imagination in Early Japan”, recounts how scholarship has identified at least two—possibly three—different groups of compilers who managed different reigns.  The Tenchi narrative is more neutral, while the Temmu narrative provides a bit more of an accusatory tone, and both narratives provide slightly different accounts of the same events—notably the death of Naka no Oe, Prince Ohoama taking vows, and Prince Ohotomo succeeding his father.  On the other side, Duthie mentions  the Kaifusou, a collection of Sinitic style poetry created in 751, just 31 years after the Nihon Shoki, where in the introduction, the author seems to be much more sympathetic to Prince Ohotomo and his cause, implying that Oama was the one rising up against the legitimate government.

I mention this just to help us remember that our primary source is not exactly neutral about all of this, and we should keep that in mind as we are trying to sort out what was going on.  The narrative also often makes it seem as though the outcome was inevitable, but we should remember that at the time all of these events were going down, the people involved couldn’t have known how they were going to turn out— in the moment, anything could have happened, especially in times of war.

Speaking of which, we know that the two sides were raising troops, so let’s talk about what we know about those troops and what combat may have looked like at this time.  While we don’t exactly have detailed accounts, there is a lot we can piece together through the archaeological record and other sources.  To that end we have evidence of armor and weapons, as well as shields, and we can also look at haniwa through the 6th and even early 7th century to give us an idea of local armor styles. 

Let’s first look back on how soldiers were conscripted.  Each household seems to have been responsible for supplying a soldier, when required.  They were also to supply their equipment.  This included a sword, armor, bows and arrows, as well as a flag and drum.

In historical parades, today, we often see row upon row of soldiers kitted out in matching clothing, appearing relatively cohesive and well-regimented.  In truth it is hard to know just how similar any one group might have been.  Based on later historical examples, it is safe to assume that many of the soldiers may not have had much armor, if any, and even if they did it might have been made of wood or leather, which were unlikely to survive to the modern day.

Of course, I would also question just how often they were able to afford everything mentioned.  And since we are told that as the government was gathering soldiers it was also opening up storehouses of weapons and armor, I suspect that indicates that not everyone had their own.  And even if they did, it may have been of questionable quality.

That said, if a warrior did have armor, it was likely one of two types, variations of which were both found on the continent. The first type is characterized by a solid, circular cuirass, often called a “tankou”, or short armor.  These were made of strips of iron that were shaped on a wooden form and then riveted or tied together into a solid cuirass, which is why it is also called a type of “plate” armor.  One side of the armor was hinged and could open so that the wearer could get in.  There are some tankou with a hanging skirt of tassets that flare out as well, protecting the legs, and even examples of pieces that also go around the neck, shoulder guards, and arm guards.  The tankou seems to date from at least the 3rd or 4th century, with changes in design over time, and we know that it continued through at least the 6th century.

Compare this to the keikou, or hanging armor.  Keikou was a kind of lamellar armor, made of individual scales, later known as “sane”.  These metal scales, also known as lamellae, were held together with lacing, and made for a much more flexible, and presumably comfortable, armor.  The tradeoff for this comfort was that keikou likely took a lot more labor to make, and thus were considered a more elite armor, possibly used by men on horseback or at least by those leading the troops.

 Looking into the future a bit, we know that in the 8th century there were “tankou” and “keikou” being donated to the Shousouin repository at Toudaiji.  However, it isn’t clear that “tankou” and “keikou” in the 8th century referred to exactly this kind of armor, and we may have been dealing with something else entirely, because there is a lacuna in our understanding of armor on the archipelago between the end of the Asuka period and the appearance of the more familiar yoroi in the Heian period comes about.  There are conjectured transitional armors, based on continental models, which are thought to have been used.  Still, at this very point in time, when Ohoama is mounting his rebellion against Ohotomo, the Keikou and Tankou are generally thought to have still been in use, and this is generally how you will see the two sides represented.

As for weapons, perhaps the most common that we see is the bow and arrow.  Archery is extremely practical, not only for its ability to be used from a distance, but also because in times of peace people can use the same bows to hunt, thus making hunting prowess a kind of stand-in for military prowess.  The way of the bow—in fact the way of the horse and bow, or Kyuuba no Michi—would be the main pillar of martial prowess in the archipelago for centuries.  The iconic sword, while important—it was, after all, one of the three sacred regalia—was more of a side-arm, deployed in close quarters combat.  It was still important, as it could be easily carried with you.  However, it is more likely that massed troops might have had spears and various types of polearms, providing reach.  Those are harder to just casually carry around, however, especially if you are mainly using a bow.  Perhaps that is part of the reason that we don’t hear as much about such weapons, and most of the focus seems to be on the archers and on swords.

There were also at this time shields.  We know that the Hayato of southern Kyushu were particularly known for them, but there evidence that they were more widely used.  After all, a shield made of wood would have made an important defense against a rain of arrows coming from the enemy.

As for the horses, some of them may have even had their own barding, or armor, though I suspect, again, that was rare, and reserved for elites. 

All of this together gives us some idea of what it may have looked like when Ohoama and Ohotomo’s forces engaged in battle, though it is still conjecture.  We know that they had spears, and swords, and bows.  We know that some of the first men that Prince Ohoama picked up on his journey was to conscript archers to his service, who then were pressed into taking a government post station.   

We also don’t necessarily see a lot of individual fighting described in the records, though there are exceptions. Later on, there was a tradition of individual warriors calling out challenges in the midst of battle, that became an accepted practice in the early culture of the bushi, or samurai, but we don’t see that in the Chronicles.    Certainly we see moments of individual valor which are remembered, likely because of the benefits that the hero’s descendants could then claim for themselves.  

But for the most part it seems that the people actually doing the fighting were groups of conscripted soldiers, not the hired warriors of later periods.  Even among groups like the Mononobe, the Be of the Warriors, it isn’t clear that they would have been the ones on the front lines—not if they could help it, anyway.  Most of these were farmers and similar commoners, who were called up to fight as necessary.  Some of them may have seen action over on the Korean peninsula, or even in local skirmishes.  Others would have been fresh out of the fields, joining the ranks for the first time.  They were not exactly volunteers, but also didn’t have much of a choice.  It was the draft on steroids.

I also suspect that the act of conscription, where a soldier was offered up by a household, or family,, meant that desertion would mean that their family would be punished. While the elite generals providing the men were no doubt gauging how this would affect their own political and economic fortunes, I imagine that the average soldier had much less agency and could look forward to many fewer rewards.  In fact, I suspect his main goal would have been one of survival.  Perhaps if one fought well, they could earn something more for themselves, and perhaps there were cultural concepts of loyalty to one’s local elites and leadership.  And maybe there were leaders who inspired them to do great things.  However, works like the Nihon Shoki were rarely concerned with the lives of the common people, except when it shined a light on the sovereigns and their court.   It was much more concerned with how this affected the upper caste of society.

There is also the question about just what kind of fighting this system led to.  Again, these are not the bushi—a warrior class who prided themselves on their martial prowess.  And neither were they standing armies.  While there were likely some who regularly served and trained and found they had a skill at war, how many were simple farmers who were now holding a spear instead of a spade?  These are things to keep in mind as we follow along with tales of glorious victory or ignoble defeat.

So, that’s a glimpse at who was actually doing the fighting.  As for the timeline of the battle, let’s get into it.  But first, a caveat:  as we should be used to by now, the exact chronology of the events listed in the Nihon Shoki is not entirely clear.  The Nihon Shoki provides a narrative, but often it includes actions that took several days or even weeks on a single date where the events apparently culminated.  Using cues, such as “one day later” or such things, we can piece together a narrative, but I may not have it 100% accurate.  It doesn’t help that the Nihon Shoki seems to focus on different campaigns separately, even though much of it was happening at the same time.  That’s compounded by the fact that all of this was being recorded much later, and so there is also a great possibility that even some of the seemingly clear dates were also wrong, or were adjusted to make for a better flow in the narrative.  So I’m going to do my best to piece together what I roughly feel was the chronological order, but just be aware that dates may not be all that precise. 

 

In the coming conflict we see several main arenas.  First, there is the area around Lake Biwa, from the Fuwa pass towards Ohotsu.  This was Ohoama’s main path to try and put an end to this whole affair—to make his way to Ohotsu, the capital, and cut off the head of the snake.  To do that he would have to leave his defensive position and venture out around the lake, where Afumi forces no doubt lay in wait.  At the same time, there was also fierce fighting in the Nara Basin, with Yoshino and Afumi forces clashing there across the plains.  And we cannot forget the Kafuka, or Kouka, pass over to Suzuka.  If the Afumi forces could push through to Suzuka, then they could march along the coastal plains of Mie up through Owari and come at Ohoama’s forces from behind.

In previous episodes we covered the leadup to this part of the conflict, and while there had been some fighting at the post stations on the road to Suzuka, as well as captured envoys at Fuwa Pass, so far we haven’t seen any major fighting.  If the timeline in the Nihon Shoki is to be believed, the first serious clashes seem to have occurred in the Yamato region and the Nara basin.

In general, however, there seems to have been two main campaigns.  There was the fighting in the Nara Basin, and then there was the fighting along the shores of Lake Biwa.

Everything started off at the end of the 6th month with Ohoama’s mad dash to capture the passes at Suzuka and Fuwa, where he waited while he gathered up men from the Eastern countries.  While that was happening, the Afumi court was out recruiting men for their own war.  This would lead to some of the earliest formal battles between the two sides taking place in the Nara Basin, originally a recruitment center, it turned into a battle zone. 

Yoshino aligned forces would push north, only to be blocked by armies coming down from the capital at Ohotsu, as well as forces coming through the gap between Yamato and Kawachi, where the Yamato river leaves the basin through the western mountains.  The fighting happened largely over the course of a week or so.  It started around the 29th day of the 6th month, and seems to have ended between the 4th or 6th day of the 7th month.  So keep that in mind.

As you may recall from last episode, two brothers, Ohotomo no Muraji no Makuda and Ohotomo no Muraji no Fukei, upon hearing that Ohoama was rising up, both feigned illness, using that as an excuse to leave the court at Ohotsu and return to their family compounds in the Yamato region.  From there, Makuda made haste to catch up with Ohoama and his men, but his brother, Fukei, stayed behind to see what he could do in Yamato.

Originally, Fukei’s success was limited.  He started calling various allied families together and tried to drum up support for Ohoama, but he could only gather a few tens of men.  Not the hundreds, let alone thousands, that would be needed.  At the same time, the Afumi court was conscripting men of the Yamato region into service.  This was being organized by Hodzumi no Obito no Momotari and his younger brother, Hodzumi no Obito no Ihoye, along with Mononobe no Obito no Hiuga, who had all been sent to Yamato on the orders of the Afumi court, apparently arriving shortly after Fukei.  This group set up their base of operations at the Wokamoto palace—it was, after all, the official government presence and they were the official government representatives —and they used the grounds west of Houkouji, aka Asukadera, as their assembly grounds.

Ohotomo no Fukei knew that something would have to be done.  If those conscripted Yamato soldiers were formed into a proper army and sent out, it could cause a lot of trouble for Ohoama and his men.  And fortunately, Fukei had a man on the inside: apparent ally, Sakanouhe no Atahe no Kumage, the officer in charge of the Wokamoto Palace, working for Prince Takazaka who resided there.  And so Fukei had a plan—he would impersonate the Royal Prince Takechi, son of Ohoama, and pretend to lead a force of cavalry to attack the camp at Asukadera.  To strengthen the illusion, Fukei would come in from the north, which is where Prince Takechi and his men would presumably be coming from.  Now remember, Fukei only had tens of people that were actually on his side at this point, and the camp was presumably much larger.  If they didn’t fall for his ruse, Fukei would be marching straight to his death.

Fukei marshalled his troops at the house of Kudara, which is to say “Baekje”, and then left out of the south gate.  He then had an accomplice, Hada no Miyatsuko no Kuma, dressed in nothing but a loincloth, mount a horse and gallop as fast as he could towards the camp.  You can imagine the confusion in the camp as this wild, naked man gallops up to them in a panic and starts telling them that Prince Takechi and his men were on their way with a huge force.

When the conscripted soldiers heard this, they panicked.  While the men were gathered, it seems that they hadn’t yet been outfitted with weapons and armor, so the entire camp broke and fled.  And so Fukei was able to waltz in with his tens of men and take the camp at Asukadera, capturing Prince Takazaka and those sent from Ohotsu to levy troops.  Fukei’s ally, Kumage, the man on the inside, helped with this, along with the soldiers under the command of him and the Aya no Atahe.  And so they were able to disperse the conscripted Yamato forces before they were even assembled.  However, it turned out that someone was missing.  Hodzumi no Omi no Momotari, who had been appointed leader of the operation, was not at Asukadera.  It turns out that he was over at the Woharida Palace, where he was reviewing the armory, taking out the weapons and armor for the troops that he thought were still over at Asukadera.

And so Fukei continued the ruse: he sent a messenger to summon Momotari, claiming to be a summons from Prince Takechi himself.

Momotari, hearing this, likely knew that he had lost, but he apparently maintained his dignity.  He didn’t run away or rush to the camp.  Instead he approached on horseback in a leisurely fashion.  When he reached the encampment, now under Fukei’s command, one of the soldiers shouted at Momotari to get off his horse, but Momotari, likely trying to keep what remained of his dignity, was slow in doing so.  The men around him didn’t care one whit for his dignity, however.  They grabbed his collar and pulled him off of the horse, dragging him to the ground.  He was shot with an arrow and then a man drew his sword and struck him and killed him.  We aren’t even told who did this deed, just how it was done.

As for the others, Momonatari’s brother, Hodzumi no Ihoye and Mononobe no Hiuga were bound, but eventually they were released amongst the troops, where they were no doubt watched carefully.  Princes Takazaka no Ou and Wakasa no Ou, the representatives of the Afumi court in Asuka, were made to follow behind the army. 

With this victory under his belt, Ohotomo no Fukei sent messengers to Prince Ohoama, at the Fuwa pass, to let him know what had happened.  When the messengers finally reached Ohoama we are told that he was quite pleased with the result.  After all, it meant that his rearguard was that much more secure.

We are told that these events took place on or about the 29th day of the 6th month, around the same time that Ohoama was overseeing the troops at Wazami, only a few days after he and the real Prince Takechi had made their way to that camp.  Things were evolving quickly.

 Fukei’s success drew others to his banner.  Miwa no Kimi no Takechimaro, Kamo no Kimi no Yemishi, and othes all joined Fukei’s forces, “like an echo”.  With a now more sizeable force, it seems that Fukei believed he was ready to take the fight to the Afumi court.  He and his advisors drew up plans for invading Afumi, selecting men to be deputy commanders and military commanders, providing a hierarchy and some organization.  From there, a few days later, he began to march north from Asuka, towards Nara.

Now Nara at this point was just a name for the northwest area of the basin—they probably didn’t even think of it as the Nara basin back then.  But it was along the road that led north, through the mountains, and from there through Yamashiro and eventually on to Afumi.  As Fukei was headed north, however,  he received word that there was another force coming from the Kawachi in the west.  And so he split his forces.  Sakamoto no Omi no Takara and others were sent with some 300 troops to take a defensive position at Tatsuta.  Sami no Kimi no Sukunamaro was also sent with another several hundred men to Ohosaka… no, not that Ohosaka.  Afusaka in modern Kashiba, in western Nara Basin.  This area would have been a strategic defensive point for any troops taking the road from Kawachi, so if anyone got past Sakamoto no Takara, Sukunamaro and his troops would be waiting.

The now General Fukei also sent Kamo no Yemishi with another several hundred men to guard the Iwate road, to defend that approach as well. 

Now Sakamoto no Takara, who had been sent to engage the troops coming from Kawachi, reached the area of Hiraishi when he heard that Afumi forces were occupying the nearby castle of Takayasu mountain.  You may recall that Takayasu was one of the Korean style fortresses that had been built in anticipation of a possible invasion from the continent, and it had even been repaired a few times.  Now it was being used not against an outside enemy, but in an internal conflict.

Takara and his men marched up the mountain, intending to attack the castle, and here we should probably give a better idea of just what this castle was like.  If you think of a modern Japanese castle the thing that likely stands out, no pun intended, is the Tenshukaku, or donjon; the multi-storied tower located somewhere inside the walls and moats of the castle proper.  This would be an ideal location to spy over the walls and see where the enemy were, as well as an area from which one could make a last ditch stand.

The castles of the Asuka period were not like this.  They were built off of a continental model, and their defining feature was not the donjon—though they likely did have gate and guard towers set up so that one could see attacking forces.  No, the defining feature was really the walls.  Long, compacted-earth walls, possibly lined with stone, which snaked around the top of a mountain.  This castle style leveraged the natural contours of existing mountain tops to provide its defense.  It didn’t hurt that they also provided clear views of what was happening on the plains below, and required attacking troops to march up a steep mountain climb and then attack uphill.  The tradeoff was that these weren’t the kind of places that people would live, when most of the infrastructure of the state was in the fertile plains and surrounding areas.  So these castles had granaries to keep troops fed, and perhaps some basic buildings erected within the walls, but they were largely a practical design.

You can still go see the Takayasu ruins, today, and you don’t have to hike up the mountain as Takara and his men did.  Instead you can take a cable car up to the top, or even a regular car on the roads that drive up to the old castle site, though how much you can see I’m not sure.  There are also other castle ruins and even old kofun on the mountain, as its prominence has been recognized as important in many different centuries.

There likely weren’t a lot of troops manning the castle, certainly not enough that they felt they had much chance of defending it.  So when Takara and his men made it up to the top, they Afumi forces burned the granaries, so as to deny him any supplies, and then took off, discretion being the better part of valor.  Takara and his men spent the evening at the castle, no doubt recovering from their hike up.  Remember, this wasn’t just a leisurely stroll—they were no doubt fully kitted out for war.  When they woke the next morning they looked out over the surrounding countryside, of which they now had fantastic views, and   Takara noticed a large army coming down along the Ohotsu-Tajihi road.  They carried flags, which I don’t know how Takara could have seen at that point, which identified them as being the enemy - troops of the Afumi general, Iki no Fubito no Karakuni.

And so Takara and his men descended from Takayasu, crossed the Ega River—now known as the Ishi river, and engaged Karakuni’s army.  They were only 300 men, however, and Karakuni had a much larger forcem so  Takara was unable to maintain a defense.  And so they made a strategic withdrawal—in other words retreated—back to Kashikosaka, apparently a part of Afusaka, where Ki no Omi no Oho’oto had been set to guard.  So Ohotomo and the Afumi court finally scored a win.

Besides his victory against Takara and his men, we are also told that Karakuni had come upon Kume no Omi no Shihoko, the governor of Kawachi.  Shihoko had been gathering troops to go fight for Ohoama, but he was found out by Karakuni.  Karakuni captured him and was going to execute him, but before he could, Shihoko took his own life, instead.

As Takara was retreating and setting up a new defensive position, Fukei had his own problems to worry about.  As he was camped with his troops on Mt. Narayama, one of his men, Aradawo no Atahe no Akamaro, addressed him and suggested that they should make sure to fortify Asuka, just in case.  Fukei agreed, and sent Akamaro as well as Imbe no Kobito to guard the Okamoto Palace in Asuka.  They also made sure to remove the planks from any bridges, using them to setup fortifications along the road.  Now any army that wished to cross would either have to swim or they would need to come across the narrow beams that were all that was left of the bridges.  This was not ideal at the best of times, but you can imagine doing it as troops on the other side were shooting arrows at you.  And yet this has become a near classic trope in Japanese war stories and it won’t be the only time it comes up in various historical contexts.  It wouldn’t even be the only time it shows up in this current conflict.

A day later, Fukei found himself engaged with an Afumi general, Ohono no Kimi no Hatayasu, on Mt. Narayama itself.  Despite Fukei having had time to set up a defensive position, the Afumi forces overwhelmed Fukei’s men.  They were defeated and Fukei himself barely escaped with his life.  Fukei fled south with only one or two men, also on horseback, with Hatayasu hot on his heels, only stopping when they reached Hatta and the Yamato river.  At that point the fortifications were in place, and Hatayasu likely knew that any trying to cross the river after Fukei would likely not go nearly as well as it did at Narayama.

As for General Fukei he kept going all the way until he reached Sumizaka, which appears to be in Uda.  There he fell in with Okizome no Muraji no Usagi, at the head of several tens of thousands of men.  Usagi had been with Ohoama , but upon hearing of the fighting in Yamato, Ohoama had sent him  and others to go back through the Suzuka pass to provide reinforcements.  One can only imagine how happy Fukei was at this point to see Usagi and all of thise men.  Fukei turned back around and encamped at Kanatsunawi—possibly modern Imai-cho, Kashihara city.  There he was able to gather many of the dispersed troops back into a force once again.

About this time, Fukei heard that the Afumi forces were also approaching along the Afusaka road.  So now they were approaching from both the north and the west.  They were also taking several different roads—inside the largely flat area of the Nara Basin, they likely had several choices. 

Takara and Oho-oto had been unable to meet the enemy and had kept retreating, likely seeking a defensible position.  As they did this, Fukei came from the east with his reinforcements.  He made it to where the roads branched at Tahema—modern Taima—where he fought with Iki no Karakuni nearby Ashi-kie pond, possibly somewhere near modern Chimata.  During the battle, one of Fukei’s men, a brave warrior known to us only as “Kume”, drew his sword and rushed straight into the midst of the enemy army.  Of course one lone man wasn’t likely to do much, but he inspired a cavalry charge, and men on horseback followed closely at his heels.  Seeing this force bearing quickly down on them, the Afumi troops broke, and soon it was a rout.  Fukei’s men pursued, cutting down the Afumi soldiers as they fled, until Fukei finally reined them in.

At this point, Fukei then admonished his troops that their goal was to take out the ringleaders, not to just indiscriminately murder the common people.  Remember, which side of the battlefield you ended up fighting on was largely a function of who had conscripted you, and Fukei evidently knew this. 

As the men were still retreating, though, Fukei noticed that the Afumi general, Karakuni – one of those ringleaders - had gotten himself separated from his men.  Fukei ordered Kume—presumably the same one who had charged the army in the first place—to shoot at him, but Kume’s arrow missed, and Karakuni made his escape.  Rather than pursuing, Fukei returned back to his headquarters.

Once there, Fukei now learned that there were enemy forces approaching from the East, as well.  So Fukei took the army and divided it into three, defending the Upper, Middle, and Lower roads, and he took personal charge of the forces on the middle road, likely so that he could easily keep in touch with the other forces.  He was also waiting for the next challenge, and he didn’t have to wait for long: the Afumi general Inukai no Muraji no Isogimi approached along the Middle Road.  He halted at Muraya, but his deputy commander, Ihoriwi no Miyatsuko no Kujira, attacked Fukei’s camp with 200 specially picked soldiers.  Now it turns out that when they reached the camp, there were only a few people actually there at the time, including one Tokumaro, described as a slave of Ohowidera temple, and four “people following the army” – in other words, these might not have been actual soldiers.  .  Nevertheless, together this small group rallied, formed an advance guard and went forward, shooting arrows at Kujira’s forces.  Kujira, not knowing that Fukei’s camp was all but empty, halted his advance.

Meanwhile, over on the Upper Road, Miwa no Takechimaro and Okizome no Usagi, who had been sent by Ohoama from Fuwa, fought with the Afumi army at the Hashi Misasagi—which is assumed to be the Hashihaka kofun, and they overwhelmingly defeated the Afumi army there, such that they was able to pivot from there and swing their forces over to the Middle road.  There they slammed into the flank of Kujira’s army, who had stopped to trade blows with Fukei’s camp.  Many of the common soldiers were killed, and the general, Kujira, ran off, mounted on a white horse.  Unfortunately for him, the horse took a misstep and tumbled into a muddy-rice field. Kujira was bogged down in the mud and having trouble getting out.  General Fukei, seeing this, sent a brave soldier of Kahi to shoot at Kujira, but as the soldier came up to the edge of the rice paddy, Kujira whipped his horse vigorously, and got it to extricate itself and Kujira, who galloped off and escaped.  Fukei, for his part, returned again to his headquarters and camped with his men there. 

Though they were ready for another conflict, nothing ever came.  The Afumi forces had withdrawn.  The battle for the Nara basin was over, and the Yoshino forces were victorious.

General Fukei, however, was anything but finished.  Remember, he had planned to take the fight to the Afumi court, and so, having subdued the enemy forces in Yamato—which is to say the Nara basin—Fukei marched out through Afusaka to Naniwa, and then marched on Yamazaki, where he set up camp.  From there, he sent messengers to all the governors of the Western Provinces.  He forced them to give up their keys, their posting-bells, and their posting tallies—basically he had them formally submit to the Yoshino faction, and thus to Ohoama.

Meanwhile, Ohoama had his own campaign to conduct, and it kicked off in the middle of Fukei’s defense of the Yamato Home Province.  He also would engage various generals in battle, but we’ll save that campaign for Part Four.

But before we go I do want to point out, once again: this wasn’t a simple and straightforward matter of attack and defense.  Notice that generals on both sides sometimes were victorious and sometimes had to flee.  You can only imagine how, after the defeat at Narayama, General Fukei must have felt that all hope was lost, only to run into a force ten thousand strong come to relive him and his paltry troops.  But it could just as easily have been that he didn’t make it.  In fact, how many warriors died?  Heroically, perhaps, but still died.  And if there were no descendants to carry on their name and remember their deeds, then who knows how many people just didn’t get written about at all.  And then there are all of those common soldiers.  Individuals without any recorded name, but who nonetheless were there and who fought. They may not have been the people that later authors cared to write about, and yet they were all someone’s child, and possibly their sibling or parent.  They loved and laughed, and certainly died.  All to determine who would sit next upon the Yamato throne.  One has to wonder if winning or losing really changed anything for them, or perhaps they won simply by surviving.

And on that cheerful thought, I’ll take my leave.  Until next time, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support.

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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.