Season 4, Episode 11: Fujiwara Troubles

At the heart of Fujiwara Nakamaro’s conflict with retired Empress Koken is a familiar theme we see repeated again and again throughout the Nara period and beyond. The central questions of who holds political power, and by what right constantly fueled conflicts between the entrenched hereditary aristocracy and the growing classes of scholars and monks who believed themselves just as capable - if not more so - than those who inherited their offices. It’s not entirely incorrect to see this partly as a struggle between aristocracy and meritocracy.

We saw back in the rebellion of Fujiwara Hirotsugu how an otherwise respectable kuge could be inspired to turn against his own government when such conflicts came to a head. Incidentally while Genbei had died in 747, Kibi Makibi still lived. He had been appointed governor of two different provinces on Kyushu when Nakamaro first came to power, and even served as an envoy to the Tang Dynasty in 752. He continued to attain better and better appointments throughout the 750s, and helped fortify the battlements on Kyushu and Tsushima in case Japan was drawn into one of the many conflicts that erupted after the An Lushan rebellion. His experience in construction earned him a massively important task in 764 - overseeing the final construction of Todaiji temple.

The shadow of Tachibana Naramaro’s rebellion in 757 still cast a long shadow over the events of 764. Had Nakamaro refrained from demoting and marginalizing several members of his own clan at the time, he may have found more willing supporters in his quest to remove Dokyo from the halls of power. However, things being what they were, the faction who supported the retired Empress found ready allies among those whom Nakamaro had so carelessly cast aside.

Of course, it seems just as likely that these untrustworthy relatives may have undermined Nakamaro’s efforts from the beginning, so it’s impossible to really say whether his high-handedness hampered his ambitions or helped him achieve the maximum possible success in this scenario.

Retired Tenno occupied a strange place in the political psychology of Japanese history. Shomu-Tenno was content with pursuing enlightenment and serving the greater cause of Buddhism, while others insisted that they were still the rightful sovereign and had the authority to issue edicts and pursue the day-to-day business of the government. Because the Tenno were believed to be literally gods-on-earth, it was no simple matter to marginalize a determined sovereign who desired to continue the governance portion of their job now that they no longer had the constant ritual to eat up their time.

So it was that Nakamaro found himself at the head of an army of 600 in 764 after having himself named as the governor of several provinces and conscripting the troops for, ahem, “training.” Nakamaro strikes me as a cautious man, which is possibly why he decided to consult with a Yin-Yang expert to discern when the best day would be to launch a rebellion. This particular expert was an associate of Emperor Junnin’s nephew, which is probably why Nakamaro believed that the man could be trusted. In this regard, he was quite mistaken, and the diviner reported the encounter almost immediately upon the Chancellor’s departure.

What followed was a fairly unseemly sprint for the imperial seal as well as the ekirei, the official bells which announced the coming of an imperial official when traveling on the roads. Empress Koken’s faction moved in first and secured not only the seal and the bells, but placed Emperor Junnin himself under arrest. The fact that the sovereign which he had been ostensibly supporting as the rightful ruler was now in custody seems to have weighed but lightly on Nakamaro, who quickly recruited or conscripted Prince Shioyaki, the older brother of Prince Funado, whom you may remember had been previously removed from succession by Koken in favor of the prince who became Emperor Junnin. Who sat on the Chrysanthemum throne mattered little to Nakamaro, it seemed, as long as it was Nakamaro himself who wielded the power.

Next came a struggle for the imperial seal and ekirei bells, both official symbols of the emperor’s authority which Nakamaro needed in order to elevate Prince Shioyaki as the rightful Tenno. It appears that Nakamaro’s faction was successful, though one of his sons died in the process of wresting the imperial accoutrements from Koken’s guards. The seal in his hand and the bells at his disposal, Nakamaro gathered what forces he could muster and quickly fled Heijo-kyo, heading north toward Echizen Province where his son Fujiwara Shikachi was serving as governor.

This is where Kibi Makibi enters the picture. Makibi was a lifelong learner and seems to have always been adding new skills to his resume. By 764, he was not only an able administrator and logistical specialist but had become an expert on the latest military strategies and tactics of China. When Nakamaro fled Heijo-kyo, Empress Koken put Makibi in charge of the imperial army and gave him the strict directive of killing the rebel Nakamaro.

The threat which Nakamaro posed to Koken’s faction cannot be overstated. If he could coordinate successfully with his son in Echizen Province, the two could unify their forces and besiege Heijo-kyo. Unlike the Tang capital of Chang’an, the capital of Nara period Japan was not located in a strategically sound spot, as its location was not chosen by military-minded leaders but by yin-yang geomancers. It had no natural defenses, and most of its structures were made from wood. I think it is a safe assumption that Nakamaro would not have hesitated to burn the city to the ground if he felt that such action was needed to secure his victory.

Thus, Kibi Makibi’s response required both political acumen and military practicality. He sent messengers to three road gates which Nakamaro might encounter on his journey north, ordering that the gates be closed. It is conceivable that Nakamaro could burn these gates down, but that would take time and the goal was not necessarily to stop him but to slow his progress and stymie his overall strategy. Makibi then dispatched an army under the command of Saeki Itaji and Kusakabe Komaro to stop Nakamaro by any means necessary.

By force-marching along alternate roads, Saeki Itaji and Kusakabe Komaro arrived at the Seta bridge, called “Setabashi,” and promptly burned it. This forced Nakamaro to backtrack and take the western road instead, and it gave Koken’s loyalist army a head start. The pro-Koken army arrived in Echizen before Nakamaro and quickly tracked down and killed Fujiwara Shikachi with the help of local regional leaders who were either eager to be rid of Nakamaro or were intimidated by the quick arrival of Saeki and Kusakabe. By the time Nakamaro arrived the next day, his son was dead and any hope of gaining troops from Echizen were lost. Plus, the road through Echizen was blocked at the pass of Arachi, making further travel north impossible.

Being essentially trapped now between hostile forces in the north and whatever army Koken-Tenno was raising back in Heijo-kyo. An attempt was made to flee across lake Biwa, but adverse winds prevented any such escape. I can testify, having myself been on a boat on lake Biwa, that it often experiences heavy winds and would have been quite difficult to cross using the boats that would have been available in 764. Thus Nakamaro had no real choice other than trying to fight things out and hoping for the best.

The rebels marched south, back toward Heijo-kyo, and encountered a loyalist force near Miozaki. The ensuing battle was recorded as largely a mass archery duel, with both sides keeping their distance and loosing their missiles into the enemy ranks. This continued for some time, and Nakamaro’s forces are said to have gained the upper hand for a time. However, when fresh loyalist reinforcements arrived, the affair quickly became hopeless for the rebels.

Desperate to escape, Nakamaro attempted once more to cross lake Biwa with his family but was again repulsed by contrary winds. His army surrendered, and he was beheaded along with his family and Prince Shioyaki.

Over three hundred rebel soldiers were later sentenced to death for their role in the uprising, but their sentences were commuted to exile. This was a fate shared by Emperor Junnin, and he was sent with most of the other exiles to the island of Awaji, which you may remember as the same place where many of the rebels who had followed Tachibana Naramaro had been sent. In his book, “Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan,” Professor Herman Ooms speculates that there must have been quite a little community of exiles living together by this point on that little hunk of rock. We can only imagine what mood overshadowed that initial meeting between the followers of Nakamaro and Naramaro may have been. It’s tempting to picture something dramatic but I’m inclined to believe it went something like this: “They got you, too, huh?” “Yup.”

It’s nearly impossible to discuss Fujiwara Nakamaro without noting the incredible irony of a kuge who had risen to the absolute heights of power largely by endearing himself to sovereigns when their reigns were threatened by violent upheaval would meet his own end as a traitor and rebel. In the end, he wasn’t much different than his relatives Fujiwara Hirotsugu and Tachibana Naramaro: all three were reacting to their own marginalization, in spite of any supposed adherence to lofty ideals.

Nakamaro was far too divisive a figure to gain the kind of support he would have needed to hold on to power. The expedience with which he dealt with his own family members within the Fujiwara clan had made him something of a pariah among his own people, and any Fujiwara kuge appeared to have gladly sided with Empress Koken against him - his cousin Kurajimaro likely did the job of beheading him personally.

I have often expressed skepticism when a given leader is charged with tyranny after they have been removed from power. However, in the case of Nakamaro I’m inclined to say that his detractors may have had a point. If he had taken measures to secure Emperor Junnin, he could have made the case that he was defending the rightful monarch, but instead he brought Prince Shioyaki into the fray, which makes it difficult to see how he was really defending anything other than his own grip on political hegemony. Whatever the truth, Nakamaro’s head was presented to Empress Koken as a souvenir of battle.

I wonder if, as the Empress looked upon Nakamaro’s face one last time, she felt a sense of final triumph, as though her own power grab was now justified if it served the cause of ending this madman’s tyranny? Personally, I believe it’s far more likely that she simply thought to herself, “That’s that.”

Next time we will continue following Empress Koken as she once more establishes herself as the rightful sovereign over all Japan.