The Entire History of Ancient Japan

Five Mongol envoys knelt on the beach at Kamakura and stretched out their necks. Their time had come, and a clear target for the executioner’s sword would at least ensure it was painless. They gazed out over the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean, waves lapping slowly. How they wished their last sight could have been an Ocean of grass swaying softly in a steppe breeze. Their hearts were calm as the blades descended upon their naked necks. They would be revenged. This execution of ambassadors was how Hojo Tokimune, the Shiken - head of the Shogun’s government - and

ruler of Japan, gave his definitive answer to Kublai Khan, Emperor of China, Son of Heaven, Great Khan of the Mongols. He would not submit. Not now. Not ever. Mt. Fuji’s shining peak loomed over the headless Mongol warriors. Soon after, Kublai sent another five men. This time there would be no negotiations. They came to announce one thing. Invasion. It would be the biggest seaborne attack the world had ever seen. The new envoys met the same end, but were not granted the honor of dying in Mount Fuji’s blessed shadow. Their blood stained the western beaches where their

compatriots had tried to land in Kyushu a year before. The first invasion had come in November 1274. Great Korean ships replete with Mongol battle regalia and tipped with grotesque figureheads - still-living Japanese islanders from the outlying domains of Tsushima and Iki were nailed, screaming hideously, to the prows. The armada, stretching to the horizon, obscured the waters - and made land in Hakata Bay, northern Kyushu. Tight ranks of soldiers descended from the ships into the water, and marched in formation, shields held high, up on to the beach. This phalanx warfare was unfamiliar to the defending samurai.

They were confused. When were they supposed to shout their challenge? To whom? How would they know if opponents were of appropriate rank? One of the defenders made up his mind, lifted his great bow, took aim at a mounted officer, and let fly. Hojo Tokimune, insecure in his recent tenure, presiding over a crumbling realm beset with woes, lay in his concubine’s lap as she stroked his long hair. His realm was an ancient one, even if the house of Tokimune were merely backwater warriors turned recent usurpers of the strings of national power. The Mongol threat focused his

mind, the first full-scale invasions his country had ever known. For the first time in his young life he wondered - how had Japan got here? Tokimune became drowsy, and slipped into a light sleep. He dreamed slowly, vividly, and fitfully of a Japan, not now, as it was, but as it had been, back into the mists of forgotten time. Hereupon, regretting the errors in the old words, and wishing to correct the misstatements in the former chronicles, Her Highness Empress Regnant Genmei, on the 18th day of the 9th moon of the 4th year of Wado (November 3,

711) commanded me, Yasumaro, to select and record the old words, and dutifully to lift them up to Her. ... I, Yasumaro, with true trembling and true fear, bow my head, bow my head. Court Noble, Futo no Yasumaro, Upper Division, First Class, Fifth Rank, Fifth Order of Merit, paused in his writing, shifted his knees ever so slightly to render his kneeling position a little more comfortable, dipped his fine brush into the pitch-black ink, and started his great endeavor. A work to last for all time. Yasumaro went on to render the fables, legends, and vaguely understood myth

of ancient times as fact. Creating a divine fable to legitimize, and deify, the rule of his, very human, imperial masters, and the right of his people, the Yamato, to dominate all the other tribes and peoples of the land we now know as Japan. He described how Izanagi and Izanami first created the islands, mountains, rivers, herbs and trees with drops of water from a coral spear. Then they begat the Lord of the universe the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, the greatest of their divine children. She sent her Grandson, Ninigi no Mikoto to Earth as the first Ruler of

the Land. But it was not only Ningi who descended to earth, his father - Susa-no-o, God of Storms, uncouth and brash, was banished from heaven for his foul and evil behavior. While Susa-no-o’s people conquered and flourished in Izumo, in the west of the island of Honshu, Ningi’s people also prospered, and multiplied in the south. Within three generations they had grown powerful enough to thrust north to central Honshu, battling foes to establish a new power base. Its names were myriad, but most know it as .... Yamatai. Yamatai was ruled over by an Emperor, Jimmu. The first

of a line that was to last forever. Of course, it was probably not quite as Yasumaro told it. For Yasumaro to serve a deity, the Imperial Line required divine blood. And so, Yasumaro wove the myriad myths of the Yamato people into a solid story, and in doing so ‘discovered,’ a royal lineage that stretched back to the Sun herself. The Amaterasu of his story was probably based upon the legendary great 3rd century shaman queen Himiko. Susa-no-o,[a] her brother, and his fight with her, may have represented a royal disagreement as much as a heavenly battle. His was

a work of propaganda, akin to the Roman Aeneid, which wove together vaguely remembered myth, heroic legend, and outright fabrications to legitimize the rule of Augustus Caesar in Rome or The Secret History of the Mongols, which did the same for Genghis Khan. The original settlers of Japan, however, came in a far more human guise. They first crossed land bridges from the Asian mainland tens of thousands of years before, and continued to arrive in small groups from all directions for eons afterwards. The population was small, perhaps 160,000 at its height, and so these people, called Jomon after

the rope patterns they left on their pottery, are thought to have lived a life of hunting and gathering the plentiful resources they found around them. They did not know of ... war ... until a new people began to make landfall. These were the people whose myths Yasumaro wrote as fact. The ‘many-fenced palace’ of the God of Storms was copied across the islands by a new and acquisitive, ambitious people, who coveted the land, and protected a newly engineered resource – the rice field. These are known as the Yayoi peoples, and Japan would never be the same

again. The ancient Chinese Kingdom of Wu, where Shanghai now stands, was believed by the ancient Japanese to be where their ancestors came from. Refugees from that kingdom, which was destroyed around the time that the Yayoi are believed to have migrated to Japan. Descriptions of the Wu and the ‘Wo,’ as the Japanese were originally known in Chinese, their tattoos and warlike nature certainly seem to bear more than a passing resemblance. The archaeological and DNA record shows that a large body of the Yayoi period Japanese came from the north, Siberia, through Mongolia and Manchuria, down the Korean

Peninsula and across the seas. Some modern research also suggests that material, and cultural similarities with civilizations on Java and other parts of South East Asia may exist. What is certain is that the Yayoi peoples were not the final pre-Japanese history humans to migrate to the Japanese isles. Sometime in the first few centuries of the Common Era, a time of turmoil and war on the continent, a massive wave of people came from northern China, bringing with them material wealth, and knowledge to improve just about every facet of human life on the islands. Some became nobles, had

their names recorded, and entered the chronicles. Place and family names connecting modern Japan with these ancient settlers can be found to this day, but the exact details of early Japan can still be said to be lost in the linguistic and cultural mists of time. Which leaves us with the mystery of just who are the Japanese? The country formerly had a man as ruler. For some seventy or eighty years after that there were disturbances and warfare. Thereupon the people agreed upon a woman for their ruler. Her name was Himiko. She occupied herself with magic and sorcery,

bewitching the people. Though mature in age, she remained unmarried. She had a younger brother who assisted her in ruling the country. After she became the ruler, there were few who saw her. She had one thousand women as attendants, but only one man. She resided in a palace surrounded by towers and stockades, with armed guards in a state of constant vigilance. When Himiko passed away, a great mound was raised, more than a hundred paces in diameter. Over a hundred male and female attendants followed her to the grave. Kofun. 162,000 of these burial mounds have been identified

across Japan. They vary in shape and size, but the ‘classic’ kofun is shaped like a keyhole, or bell. The longest is over 400 metres. The burial chambers are of stone. Un-looted ones have been found to be adorned with paintings of court life and filled with useful accessories for the afterlife. The pre-historic, semi-legendary age recorded in the Chinese classic, Sanguo Zhi, 'Record of the Three Kingdoms,' not only told of the enthronement of Queen Himiko, her spinning of spells to pacify the realm, and an influx of people from lands over the seas. It saw the dawn of

these massive megalithic engineering projects. Despite her pure white robe of mulberry fiber, the warm evening, and the flaming torches, a shiver of pure ice rent the girl’s heart as she saw the mound which would be her resting place. But she steeled herself, the magatama charms which adorned her body rattling while she danced towards her destiny as a heavenly lady in waiting to her deceased mistress, Ruler of Yamatai, Queen of Wa, Friend of Wei Dynasty China. Himiko. Despite her fear and misgivings, the young girl’s heart brimmed with pride to fulfill this duty. There never would be

another such as her dead Queen. Himiko had woven a spell over Yamatai, with kido magic. The sorcery had wrought peace where once there had been war, prosperity where once there had been none. The people loved her, yet none could set their eyes upon her, even the 1,000 maidens who served her were ignorant of her face. The Queen would admit only onfe person to her presence, her brother. This man served her food and wine, and communicated laws and judgements to her flock. Himiko’s most astonishing achievement had been sending four diplomatic missions to far-off China with gifts

of slaves, and the highly prized fine, strong cloth for which the Queen’s land was justly famous. In return, treasures, the likes of which had never been seen before. Beads, bronze mirrors, and most prized of all, swords, military banners and an official seal pronouncing her ‘Friend and Ally of the Wei Dynasty’. Himiko and her chief envoys were symbolically appointed to the highest ranks in the Wei Chinese military. Her magic had extended across the oceans, and bewitched the Chinese ruler into giving her his greatest honour. With China’s recognition, all bowed before her, and Yamatai came to dominate

the Japanese islands. But, as is the way of things, the Great Queen breathed her last, and the people of Yamatai raised a great mound, a kofun, over her burial chamber. 100 youths and maidens were selected to serve her until the end of time, and the young girl shivering in the summer evening heat was one. She danced on past the crackling flames into the kofun mound, and on ... to the eternal afterlife. Himiko and her serving-maidens are believed to be at eternal peace at the Hashihaka kofun in Nara Prefecture. “Assassination and murder followed; more than one

thousand were thus slain. A relative of Himiko named Iyo, a girl of thirteen, was then made queen and order was restored. (Zhang) Zheng, an ambassador from Wei, issued a proclamation to the effect that Iyo was the ruler.” This set a pattern in Japan. Throughout ancient times, women’s status was high, and female monarchs repeatedly enter the chronicles. Some like Empress Jingu, beat the drums of war, others seem to have followed Himiko and Iyo in fostering a land at peace with itself. This doctrine is amongst all doctrines the most excellent, but it is hard to explain and

hard to comprehend. Even the Duke of Zhou and Confucius could not attain a knowledge of it. This doctrine can create religious merit and retribution without measure and without bounds, and so lead on to a full appreciation of the highest wisdom. Every prayer is fulfilled and naught is wanting. The people who made the Japanese islands their home did not forget about the lands their ancestors had come from, nor about the Gods of those lands, which they brought with them to become the Gods of the religion we now know as Shinto. Long before the myths of Amaterasu

and her descendants were written, Shinto was a living breathing religion of nature spirits. Mountains, rivers, trees, stones, fire, water. But, the small kingdoms of the Japanese isles had remained intimately connected to those on the Korean Peninsula, trading, exchanging, learning, marrying, and warring. Embassies were exchanged, noble and royal marriage alliances forged, technology transferred, and missionaries sent. There was a relationship of deep respect, and so in the middle of the 6th century, when King Seong of Baekje, a kingdom in the western part of the peninsula, sent his letter sharing the peace of the Buddha with Emperor Kinmei,

his Imperial highness’s chief advisor, Soga no Iname, stroked his beard and smiled behind a ceremonial fan, a recently imported fad from Korea. His time had come at last. The long years of scheming with his Korean kin and continental-minded allies in the Yamato court had resulted at last in this mission’s arrival. It seemed sudden, heaven-sent, but it was nothing of the sort. Soga and his family had spent years, perhaps even decades, arranging it all. This was not the first time Buddha’s teachings had reached Japan, a number of the common people had been preached to by monks

in generations past, some of the holy men even claimed to have come from as far away as the land of the Buddha’s birth. But such common bare-foot migrant priests received no patronage, and even less aristocratic interest. Soga no Iname’s family had been aware, perhaps even secret followers, of the teachings for generations. He knew both that Buddhism was salvation for his sovereign, and a way of concentrating power in his own hands. He would be the first noble of consequence to take up Buddha’s banner. He and his clan would hold it aloft in battle, claiming the divine

power to smite and confound their foes. But nature, or maybe the old Shinto gods, it seemed, did not agree with Soga’s new religion. Plague broke out, and Soga’s enemies at court seized upon this proof that the true gods of the land were insulted. Emperor Kinmei, in a fearful rage and in mortal fear for his life and kingdom, ordered Buddhist temples destroyed. It would be left to Soga no Iname’s descendants to reclaim the Buddhist mandate. The army of the Imperial Princes and the troops of the Ministers were timid and afraid, and fell back three times. At

this the Imperial Prince [Shotoku], his hair being tied on the temples, followed in the rear of the army. He pondered in his own mind, saying to himself: “Without prayer we cannot succeed.” So he cut down a tree, and swiftly fashioned images of the Four Heavenly Kings. Placing them on his top-knot, he uttered a vow: “If we are now made to gain the victory over the enemy, I promise faithfully to honor the four Heavenly Kings, guardians of the world, by erecting to them a temple with a pagoda.” And so, Prince Shotoku swept to victory. When he

was appointed head of government under his aunt, Japan’s first and longest reigning female Empress Regnant, Suiko, he made Buddhism the state religion. Together they established temples, sent embassies to Sui China, established a calendar to understand the heavens, and a constitution to enshrine both Buddhism and Chinese Confucian order as the guiding principles of life – at least for aristocrats - in the new nation - which within a century would become generally known by a term he is said to have invented, ‘The Land of the Rising Sun.’ Nihon, or, Japan. From the chaos and tribal infighting of

the fifth century, Shotoku and Suiko established the roots of a stable state, which would in time come to dominate the three main islands, Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku, and impose semi-vassal status on wild tribes of the north, and the tattooed Amami island peoples of the far south. Future religious and secular leaders would claim that he came to them in visions and dreams, inspiring them to great deeds and profound spiritual understanding. In his vision, his accomplishments, and the recognition granted him down the ages, Prince Shotoku can justly claim to be the Father of the Nation we now

know as Japan. The farm boy stood in a simple tunic, rusty knife in his belt, a tall spear at his side. He was feeling strong. The gathering cold of late autumn did not bother him one bit. Instead the blue sky gave him hope and strength. The conscript reflected on the fact that he was a peasant no more. He was now a great warrior for his lord and king. He watched excitedly as the eagerly anticipated great flotilla of ships entered the mouth of the Baengma River, on the East coast of Korea. Tens of thousands of men

bent to the oars, chanting in unison as the small vessels, which had successfully made the treacherous crossing from Kyushu, made their way up the river. Astride each ship, stood proud warriors, clan banners held high, swords punching the air amid deafening cheers. Drums rang out. They were late in the season, and had been lucky not to get caught in the autumn storms, but it mattered not. They were now here. Baekje, the kingdom from which Buddha’s peace had entered Japan, was an ancient Japanese ally on the Korean Peninsula, but had fallen to an alliance of Tang China

and another Korean kingdom, Silla, in 660. Following that defeat, those who could had fled to Japan to plan their comeback with the help of the Japanese. This vast army and armada of boats was the result. It was a moment of pure joy for the young conscript as he stood on the riverbank, ready to welcome the Japanese reinforcements, and the returning Baekje refugees, and above all his rightful lord, the new King Pungjang. The King would stamp the seal of peace on their lives, and coat it with the blood of the wretched oppressors. The river was filling

up. It had become almost impossible to see the water flowing beneath the sleek vessels, they were so numerous. 800 his commander had told him. All the conscript knew was that with such a host, they were sure of victory. Everyone was in good spirits. The moment for revenge had arrived. It was October 4th 663. The motherland was on the cusp of being restored to its former glory. The flotilla got larger and larger as more and more ships entered the estuary and started to head upstream. But there came a point when they were so jammed together, that

movement all but ceased. This was the moment the hidden Tang Chinese ships had been waiting for. 170 of them sprung the trap, speeding downriver from inland harbors, raining flaming arrows down on the unprepared Japanese and Baekje Korean vessels. The young conscript watched in horror as his kingdom’s salvation floundered and died before his eyes. Then from the hills behind him came the sound of shouts, a conch shell rang high, then low, ... echoed eerily through the valley – the order for cavalry to form up. Hwarang! Silla’s renowned cavalry. Trained by warrior monks from childhood to revere

the law, obey all orders, to love and fight to the death for their comrades, and to exterminate their foes. They were said to sooner die than retreat. The young Baekje conscript now saw himself for what he was. No great warrior. A mere mountain peasant dressed in hemp clothing, armed only with a simple spear. It was now he knew fear in his heart. Behind Baekje’s dwindling forces, the Tang ships had closed in, and hand-to-hand fighting covered the floating battlefield. Surviving Japanese warriors from sunken ships climbed the muddy river banks, and joined the rear of the conscript’s

formation, there was nowhere to run from the circling Hwarang, the only hope was the ever-smaller mass of men around their king. Then they broke. The few remaining men headed for the safety of the hills as the Hwarang swarmed around them, impaling the fleeing runners on razor-sharp lances. They held out, fighting a low-key guerilla war for years in the mountains. But after a decade, the dwindling band of freedom fighters knew that all was truly lost, there was to be no Baekje resurrection. Japanese ships again made the dangerous voyage to the continental peninsula to perform the evacuation

of their Korean allies and kin. The Minister Yeo Jasin, the Minister Gwisil Jipsa, and others, men and women, to the number of over 700 persons, were removed and settled in the district of Kamafu in the province of Omi. As Baekje fell, all those who could, perhaps many thousands in all, escaped to the Japanese islands with the retreating Japanese troops, and the decades following, they were welcomed, and integrated into society and national political systems. Their traces survive to this day in place names, culture, and family surnames. This was a pivotal moment for Japan. No longer would

it be intimately entwined with the continent. From now, it would turn inwards, concentrating on its own affairs, staying well away from continental politics and conflicts. Silla, who soon conquered the whole peninsula, never forgot that the Japanese had supported their Baekje enemies. The relationship between the Japanese isles and the Koreas had soured, never to regain its former warmth. In ancient times, the kings of the Yin Dynasty restored their country after transferring the capital five times. The sovereigns of the Zhou Dynasty ensured peace in their country after establishing the capital three times. Today, as for the site

of Heijo-kyo, the layout of the four animals is in accord with the model, mountains guard the site in three directions, and the divinations suggest good fortune. We should build a new capital at this site. Materials for construction, as the need arises, should be listed and reported. Construction of streets and bridges should be started after the autumn harvest so that the people who are willing to render services would not be disturbed. Plans should be carefully worked out so that they would not be changed subsequently. Bodhisena had traveled the world, over icebound mountains, through parched desert, across

lush farmland, and upon the deepest seas in his quest to find Manjusri, a long-dead enlightened one, a Bodhisattva of wisdom, who had appeared to him in a dream as a youth in India. It had taken him years, but now he was reaching his journey’s end. Gyoki, the Japanese monk who walked beside him WAS Manjusri reincarnated - he was sure of it. They had met before in another time and place – another life – in the presence of the Buddha himself. Gyoki solemnly led Bodhisena on to his, their, destiny, the great city of Heijo-Kyo, Japan’s new

capital city. Nothing like this had been seen before. The land had been unified, no longer was it merely the statelet of Yamato, it was now The Land of the Rising Sun, Japan. It was no longer appropriate or dignified for the Court to up sticks and be loaded on to the back of ox wagons every few years. China had long ago built an established capital. It was high time that Japan should join the civilized world in this matter, just as it had so many other ways over the last centuries. Foreign states needed to understand the full

dignity and civilization of the city’s inhabitants and its rulers. Needed to know where to send diplomatic missions, and tribute. What is more, Heaven needed to know where Human Power lay on earth - moving had surely confused the gods, caused them to look less favorably on the realm. The time had come. On the day of Jia-Zi in the eleventh month, the cabinet offered a proposal to the emperor as follows; We hear that, in ancient times, lives were so simple that people lived in caves in winter and nests in summer. In recent years, the noble people live

in palaces instead. We also have the capital for the residence of the emperor. Since the capital is visited by people from remote provinces and foreign countries, how can we express the virtue of the emperor if the capital lacks magnificence? We offer a proposal to decree that the authorities should instruct noblemen and wealthy commoners to equip their houses with tiled roofs, vermilion pillars and white walls. Heijo-Kyo was the answer to all these problems, desires, and prayers. A city of 100,000. Nobles, commoners, and slaves alike lived within its numerous precincts. Peasants delivered food and other supplies from

the hinterland, pretty girls arrived to make their fortune in the pleasure districts, criminals slunk by in the shadows, hoping to grab a tiny slither of the glorious riches for themselves. Imperial councilors and civil servants also came from much further afield - from as far away as Persia, a land lost in the haze of the vast sand and grass desert which was known to exist beyond China. Chinese scholars, merchants, engineers and architects from Great Tang roamed the streets and haunted the halls of learning in their flowing robes, sporting their long status marking nails - work with

one’s hands and fingers was left to mere illiterate peasants and the servile classes. A grand Imperial repository called Shosoin was established to exemplify the permanence of the new city. The Royal Treasures, tribute and gifts from neighboring states, some emanating from further even than the most exotic of inhabitants - the extreme wilds of lands in the far west whose names were unknown - would no longer be subject to rude upheaval. They would rest in peace, as symbols of Imperial legitimacy, international recognition, and Power, in the sacrosanct precincts of the brand-new Todaiji Temple. Prince Shotoku’s reforms had

woven their logical path to this point. The loss of allies and bases on the continent, no longer a buffer zone, had led to this point. Japan’s establishment as a state had led to this point. Of all the people who roamed the wide boulevards of the new capital, Bodhisena truly stood out. He was by far the darkest-skinned, and perhaps close to one of the most learned men to have ever walked the winding mountain roads of Japan. A Tamil man from the deep south of what is now southern India, he had traveled the world seeking Buddhist truth,

and his search had eventually ended here. He was only in his twenties. The Imperial court was thrilled to have a guest from lands so close to those of Buddha’s birth, and granted Bodhisena land for a temple, encouraging him to share his deep knowledge and saintly aura. However, Bodhisena did not simply settle for a quiet temple life. He was granted the honour of putting the final touch to the greatest devotional work of construction that Japan, and most of the world, had ever seen. In 741, Emperor Shomu, desiring to show the magnificence of his state, demonstrate the

protection of the Lochana Buddha’s universal order, and having heard that Tang China had already completed such a project, ordered the erecting of a Great Buddha statue in Heijo-kyo. It was to be the center piece of a great institution of religion and learning, 16 meters high, 500 tons, cast entirely of bronze, and housed in a great wooden temple hall, 50 by 86 meters with 84 massive cypress pillars – Todaiji. The world had never seen the like in wood before – nor would ever again. Half of the population, around 2,600,000 people donated, food, money or labour to

the cause, and specialist craftsmen hired from throughout the known world toiled for over a decade to realize the Imperial Dream. In 752, it was time for the final act. The eye-opening ceremony – to dedicate the statue, to awaken the living Buddha within. Before dignitaries from Tang China, all the Korean kingdoms, 10,000 guests, and 4,000 dancers moving to the dignified and majestic sounds of hichiriki oboes, fue flutes, koto, biwa lutes, and myriad drums which formed the new Imperial Music brought by Bodhisena and Foche, the Tamil priest himself painted the Buddha’s eyes. It must have been a

profound moment of holiness and spirituality. With the painting of his eye, the Buddha lived. In Nara. In Japan. The Great Buddha’s love and protection now emanated from the Japanese capital city, to warm and protect the world with its light and sanctity. The brush the Bodhisena used is still preserved in the Shosoin treasury today. It took several decades for the luster to wear off. For while the munificence of the great statue undoubtedly protected the realm’s spiritual health, the financial and social cost took a long-term toll. Furthermore, the great centers of learning became great centers of Buddhist

power and influence over the state. This was not how the new Emperor Kammu saw his reign’s future when he ascended the throne in 781, and became determined to break from this monster of religious control created by his predecessors. There was only one thing for it. The ‘eternal’ capital of Heijo-kyo would have to be moved. The Buddhists could be left to twiddle their thumbs and chant their sutras away from secular power. Nagaoka was the site chosen in 784. But it was not a success. A decade later, in 794, Heian-kyo was eventually founded and over the next

decades, blossomed into a glorious and fitting capital city to truly rule the land in harmony. This new city grew in size with the building of the vast sprawling mansions of the 1182 noble families of the land, a third who traced their lineage to Chinese and Korean families, a testament to the global draw of the polity which had been built over the last two centuries in central Japan. The economy thrived, and the libraries became the world’s envy, with over 1,500 Chinese classics available for the reference of ministers, scholars, engineers, craftspeople and soothsayers. Over the next few

hundred years, Chinese book collectors even visited to copy volumes of ancient literature that had been lost in China itself. Kyoto as it later became, was to remain the Imperial Capital until 1869. But it was on Japan´s borders where the real battles were being held. Emishi from the two provinces of Mutsu and Echigo, their wild hearts as yet untamed, have repeatedly harmed Our imperial subjects. Accordingly, We have dispatched an officer and have ordered the provinces to mobilize their regiments. They are to go forth... and punish the emishi. The villages of sturdy wooden huts were small, but

warm and secure. Nestled in the cozy confines of tree-bound valleys, they were virtually hidden until you stumbled upon them. The villagers, called Emishi by their would-be invaders from the south, led hard but hardy lives, hunting, trapping, gathering, and reaping the grains of their half-wild paddy fields. Food was plentiful, the gods and spirits of their northern mountains and forests provided abundant resources of every kind. And so why then should they bow to foreigners - pay the fruits of their labor to men and women who lived in far-off palaces? What would the foreigners give them in exchange

for this? What more could they need? These people controlled their own destiny, paid tribute to none, acknowledged no overlord but their own chiefs. Amongst the Eastern savages the emishi are the most powerful, their men and women live together promiscuously, there is no distinction of father and child. In winter they dwell in holes, in summer they live in nests. Their clothing consists of furs, and they drink blood… In ascending mountains they are like flying birds; in going through the grass they are like fleet wolves. … What we now think of as Japan, was not always Japan.

In fact, the remote borders in the north, the west and the south are still unfixed and disputed to this day. In the 8th and 9th century, the wild border was far closer to the capital, so close in fact, that even the marches to the north of what is now Tokyo were a hazy no man's land, a vague realm of independent and warlike peoples known as Emishi. The ancient Japanese Court did not engage in anthropological study to determine exactly who these people were, simply classing these unsubjugated - free - peoples as barbarians. But modern research has

led us to believe that they were farmers and hunters of mixed ethnicity, composed of peoples similar to those who had settled in the south, but perhaps with a stronger dose of blood from the people we know now as the Ainu of modern-day Japan's extreme north. Periodically, tribes of these Emishi people bowed to their powerful southern neighbours, begged admittance to the tax role, and were resettled within the burgeoning Japanese imperium. Whether this resettlement resembled the relatively peaceful settlement of Goths and other non-subject tribes as farmers in Roman territory, or represented a more sinister ethnic cleansing is

unclear, but it is thought at least some of the settlers were captive women and children, who’s still resisting husbands and fathers were then enticed to surrender and join them in exile. However, in the main, the north remained beyond the pale, and the Court at Heijo-kyo decided that something must be done about it. In the early 8th century, several punitive expeditions consisting mainly of infantry conscripts set out, but the skill of the enemy horsemen, cumbersome supply lines and deep winter snows meant little was achieved. And so in 774, the Emperor decided to do something more definitive.

He declared the commencement of THE GREAT PACIFICATION ERA. Because [military action] brings hardship to the people, We have long valued the broad virtue that embraces the myriad things [and have eschewed war]. But a report from Our generals makes it clear that the barbarians have not amended their wild hearts. They invade Our frontiers and ignore the instructions of the Sovereign. What must be done cannot be avoided .... The Heijo-kyo Court were conscripts, mainly from provinces adjoining the barbarian-territories. Non-professional peasant serving as part of their tax duty, providing their own weapons and armour and not expecting to

be in the field for long. Those who commanded them were chosen for their noble titles as much as their leadership prowess. The Emishi, whose own recorded testimony is lost to time, seem to have been warriors born, and despite their numerical and equipmental inferiority, could as with the Viet Min in Vietnam, attack swiftly from nowhere, before melting back into the dense, dark, forests of their homeland. While the huge Yamato armies did score some wins, in the main, they stumbled around in territory they did not know, losing men to ambush, getting hungrier and hungrier as their supply

lines grew ever longer. An age old story. The Emishi chieftain, Aterui sat atop his fleet horse, his bow as yet unstrung. It was the fifth month of 789. He gazed at the vast enemy force arrayed before him in the valley. Behind the marching Yamato troops sent by Emperor Kammu, smoked 800 of his people's homes. Razed as the slow moving infantry progressed towards their doom. Because the flaming homes had been sacrificed to a grand plan. This advance guard had been lured over the Koromo River by easy pickings, and the promise of a seemingly small and easily

defeatable Emishi skirmish force of a mere few hundred. The Emishi stood their ground at first. Let the attackers think it was the main force, earnestly defending their homes. They then feigned retreat, withdrawing while keeping up a running battle with the 4,000 Yamato troops. The invader's plan was for the remainder of the massive invasion force, nearly 50,000 men, to cross the river now, with no Emishi defenders to threaten and thwart their passage. Now was Aterui's moment. He and his thousand warriors sounded their battle cry. Blood-curdling roars echoed through the hills and thickly treed valleys, magnifying their

volume to a storm. The tramping army below them on the valley floor hesitated, a sharp intake of breath sounded, and a proud Chinese-style war banner drooped slightly as its bearer looked around, spooked and afraid. Aterui sounded his conch horn. It rang through the valleys and hills of his homeland. The cavalry started slowly down the forested mountain, as yet the enemy could not see them, they could simply hear the cries and shouts of a large host approaching fast. The men on the valley floor’s imaginations ran wild. It seemed as if a great horde of riders was

bearing down upon them. It was too much for the peasant levies. They broke and ran. Trampling their once proud war banners beneath their freezing, sandled, feet. Those that managed to reach the river began to wade outwards. Towards the safety of the far bank, and the troops yet to cross. But these were treacherous waters. They flowed fast, and furious. Over 1,000 men succumbed to the depths. 1,250 more survived only by discarding their weapons. A sacrifice to the goddess of this forsaken northern waterway. The army did not attempt another crossing. The commander, Ki no Kosami, issued his

report to the emperor: My staff and I have discussed this and concluded that our best course is to disband the army, return the provisions, and prepare for emergencies.... Thus we have sent orders to the various armies to disband and withdraw. More campaigns followed, but in the face of mounting opposition among the population, it was clear that something had to change. And so, after the death of Emperor Kammu, who had invested so much time and energy in this GREAT PACIFICATION, the Court came up with a cunning plan. In 811, victory was declared. Nothing had changed. The

Emishi simply continued their wild and free ways in the way they saw fit. It would be another 400 years before the north was fully integrated into Japan, and it would be cultural assimilation rather than conquest. However, for now a conch shell of freedom rang through the mountains and valleys of the Emishi’s northern homeland. A western houri beckons with her white hand Inviting the stranger to intoxicate himself with her white hand That western houri with features like a flower She stands by the wine warmer, and laughs with the breath of spring Laughs with the breath of

spring, Dances with a dress of gauze! “Will you be going somewhere, milord, now, before you are drunk?” The young embassy member, Abe no Nakamaro, had caught a glimpse of the girl with the golden hair in the crowd as the Japanese embassy paraded into the Tang Chinese capital of Chang-an through the great eastern gate of the city and proceeded to the diplomatic quarters where they would be accommodated during their stay in the Chinese capital. It had been a grueling odyssey from Heijo-kyo in that year of 717. The thought of setting sail from the port of Naniwa,

with his mother’s farewell poem ringing in his ears, brought tears even now, thousands of miles away at journey’s end. Of the four ships which set sail, only two had made it across the raging seas south of Kyushu. Island hopping until the specs of land ran out and the ships were forced to brave the great expanse of ocean before China appeared on the horizon as a grey haze. He knew that former missions had sailed a safer route via Korea, but Baekje’s fall and Silla’s belligerence had put a stop to that. Now the young diplomat, only 19,

had seen Chinese ships, he knew he would never set foot in a Japanese one again. He also swore that should he survive to return home, he would inform his superiors in no uncertain terms that Japanese shipbuilding was a skill that required more refinement. Once in China though, a thing of true wonder had revealed itself - the road and relay station network which stretched unhindered to the farthest borders of the realm with standardized systems and in great order. In China, all roads lead to the capital Chang-an! The embassy had ridden in official carriages, as guests of

state, crossing great rivers on stone bridges or regular, river-worthy ferries, staying each night in comfortable relay stations, and contemplating the vastness of the countryside as the oxen plodded their weary way on the hard road. And now the young embassy member was here in the centre of the world, a city of more than one million from all corners of the earth, inside the awe-inspiring fortifications... and all he could think of was the revealing dress of gauze, the curve of the body revealed beneath, and the outlandish yet oh-so-enticing hair, like fine golden strands woven through silken cloth.

He wondered what type of barbarian she was, whether she had come from the end of the world as he had? Although, if that was so, it must be a different end, because no one like her graced his homeland. This truly was a city of wonders, where all the peoples of the world gathered to bask in the Chinese emperor, the Son of Heaven’s, divine effervescence. He knew he would be spending months, perhaps years as a guest of the government, in special facilities, afforded little movement, a gilded confinement. But he would somehow evade the guard. To stroke

those long golden locks, and discover what lay beneath the gauze dress. This truly was a city of wonders. He would discover the World in Chang-an, and return to Heijo-kyo to recount stories of his epic adventures. Of that he was certain. Between 607 and 839AD, 21 missions were dispatched to China. The first mission infuriated the Chinese Emperor, and nearly led to war, by insinuating that the two nations were equal. "The heavenly sovereign of the east respectfully addresses the emperor of the west." 東天皇敬白西皇帝 However, his forces were indisposed at the time, engaged in trying to dominate the

northern Korean Kingdom of Goguryo, and he settled for a polite, but haughty, letter to be delivered, to place the mere 'sovereign' of this barbarian nation, below himself, the 'Son of Heaven' The Emperor greets the sovereign of Yamato. Your chief envoy, has come and stated in detail your good intentions. We have been graced with reception of the heavenly mandate to rule the universe and will extend the influence of our virtue to all beings. In our concern to nurture and edify the people, we do not distinguish between near and far. I have heard that the sovereign resides

beyond the sea and treats his people with benevolence, that peace reigns within his country, that people's customs are harmonious, and that they are of an honest nature. You have come from afar to bring tribute. We are delighted with this splendid demonstration of your sincerity. The chief envoy, Ono no omi Imoko, reported that Sui China was “an admirable country, whose laws are complete and fixed,” and set the scene for the next two centuries of exchange, during which Japan acquired knowledge of religion, laws, technology, cuisine, agriculture, industry, culture, fine Chinese manufactures, and perhaps most importantly, respect on

the world stage and senior rank in the hierarchy of nations. It, however, had to grit its teeth and accept the barbarian status which the Chinese bestowed. The ship he was attempting to return home aboard ran aground in Annam, modern-day northern Vietnam, and Abe no Nakamuro never did return home, dying in Chang-an aged 72 in 770. To this day, he remains deeply respected, a symbol of peace and mutual friendship, in both China and Japan. When I look up into the vast sky tonight, is it the same moon that I saw rising from behind Mt. Mikasa at

Kasuga Shrine all those years ago? In the breeze Scatter soft snow flurries So brief that Its intermittent Fall is sad, indeed… It was the end of 10th century, a time of weak central rule and chaos in the countryside. Not only in Japan - for the past century or more the entire world had been in turmoil. The Vikings were ravaging Europe, the Mayan Kingdoms of central America were in swift decline, China was divided by conflict and epidemics raged throughout the globe. Over the past centuries, conflict with Silla on the Korean Peninsula and the danger of travel

in war-torn China had meant that the once glorious diplomatic missions ceased. Immigration similarly dried up, trade faltered, and the all-important intellectual exchange on which earlier development had been based, faded into distant memory. The court lost control of the provinces, and retreated within itself. Despite this calamity, however, a great flowering of culture was occurring in the, now almost ancient, two hundred-year-old capital, Kyoto. Great volumes of poetry were declaimed for posterity. Gorgeous clothing recorded in immortal artworks. Music and dance of great sophistication composed to be handed down the generations for a thousand years. Perhaps most wonderful of

all, a great literary tradition came into being. The world’s first ever novel, Murasaki Shikibu’s Tale of Genji, was written in serial form in the early 11th century, and other women, especially those of the court, brushed their witticisms and ironic reflections into diaries which are still enjoyed to this day. Prime among these female authors, somewhat akin to trend-setting celebrity influencers of our modern world, was Sei Shōnagon Fine then! How to be hard-hearted, from me You have learned! But to promise, then not come- Who taught you that, I wonder! As far as Sei was concerned, the common

people were little better than worms. One occasionally caught a glimpse of them as one traveled through a village, their clothes threadbare, unperfumed, and untrammeled by color of rank, their children naked and gaping. Once, she had seen a small boy, no doubt abandoned by his commoner mother, much as animals leave their young to fend for themselves, standing and gaping at her from the side of a road. He did not move, simply stared at her carriage the whole time, gawping. Could anything have been more rude? Sei Shonagon, lady in waiting, court chronicler, diarist and social commentator had

reflected on this and other events. As far as the courtier was concerned, it all went to show just why the court should be kept apart as far as possible from what lay without. She had heard that the common people mated without even attempting poetic courting first. The noble lady simply imagined it to be a free for all in their hovels. The males did exhibit a modicum of decency by living with their lover's parents and their begotten offspring, at least until he had had enough and wandered elsewhere, or succumbed to one of the diseases which were

of course rampant among the servile masses. Perhaps most astonishingly, however, the females fed offspring with milk from their own breasts, not even having the wherewithal to hire a team of wet nurses to suckle their young. Sei herself, who had left a good-for-nothing husband behind when she entered court, had a more refined approach to woo, or reject her many lovers and courtiers. Exchanges of poetry, perfumed letters, half-feigned modesty, well planned coquettishness, and the disposal and scorning of favours calculated at just the right moment. But even Sei, the master of the game of love did not always

get it right To be abandoned Is my fate I know so well; Uncomprehending Do my tears fall. The razor-sharp sword slashed downwards towards the unmounted Onda Hachiro Moroshige’s neck, To finish the job, the rider grabbed the unhelmeted head by its hair and twisted, ripped the head from its body. The victorious killer threw away the prize as if it were nothing, and galloped proudly away. As she rode off the field of war into the distant mountains, Tomoe Gozen, removed her helmet, and shook her long jet-black hair free, it billowed in the wind behind her like a

battle standard, announcing to all that one of history’s greatest women warriors had fought her last battle, and fought it well. While Sei Shonagon and her noble kin lived their closeted existence in Kyoto, over in the east events that would have repercussions reaching to the modern-age were evolving. A class of clans, connected by hereditary service to a military commander were emerging. As they served only one lord, they became known by a word which means to serve. Samurai. Within 100 years, in the 11th century, at about the same time as the age of chivalry was dawning in

Europe, powerful samurai warrior clans were exerting great control over the Imperial Court. One in particular, the Taira, seemed to be in the ascendancy, and the leader of the clan: Kiyomori managed to have his three-year-old grandson installed on the Chrysanthemum throne as Emperor Antoku. All seemed to be going very well. In the east, Taira’s ancient foe who had been thought vanquished, the Minamoto clan lead by Yoritomo raised a host, and marched west. When the Taira generals perceived their resurrected foe’s strength, they retreated swiftly back to Kyoto without engaging. The next few years saw the east and

north fall to Minamoto forces, while the Taira lands suffered natural disaster, famine and pestilence. However, they remained undefeated and safe in their Kyoto base, biding their time to strike. In 1184, the Taira felt their time had come. A huge force of 100,000 was levied, and the men of the Capital region made a leisurely progress north to combat the Minamoto in their mountain lairs. On June 2. 1184, battle was joined at Kurikara. It took place in the old honorable samurai fashion. Melees were fought between picked champions, warriors called out their lineage before engaging, and all the

proper protocols were observed. Until night fell. The heavily outnumbered Minamoto sent flaming bulls, enraged and in mortal panic running through the Taira troops. In the chaos, the camp was abandoned, and it is said Thus did seventy thousand horsemen of the Taira perish, buried in this one deep valley; the mountain streams ran with their blood and the mound of their corpses was like a small hill. The Taira fled Kyoto, taking the young Emperor Antoku, his treasury, the Imperial regalia, and anything else they could grab. They fled still further west until they could flee no more. Final

battle was enjoined at a place called Dannoura. The fighting took place with ships' decks forming a treacherous, swaying battlefield. One wrong step, and heavily armored warriors, unused to fighting on the sea, would fall to watery deaths. Emperor Antoku, 6 years old, was placed on an insignificant looking boat, so that while the Minamoto concentrated their arrow fire on the flag-ship, he remained safe. But a traitor, Taguchi Shigeyoshi, defected and revealed the ruze. Arrows rained down on the rough-hewn boat which formed the last few feet of Emperor Antoku's once glorious realm. As the Taira realized there was

no further to flee, the Emperor's grandmother held him in her arms. Finally, she jumped. "In the depths of the Ocean, we have a capital" The Taira were destroyed for all time. Minamoto Yoritomo was granted the title of Shogun, and his warrior-ruled samurai administration swiftly removed political power from Kyoto's hands. Henceforth, true power would be wielded from Kamakura in the east. Samurai power, largely based in the East at Kamakura, and later Edo would last 700 years until 1868 when the last Shogun resigned, and the Emperor also moved East from Kyoto to his new capital of Tokyo.

Monks and priests today are fawning and devious, and they confuse the people and lead them astray. Not a single person in the entire population will possess a heart of goodness; there will be nothing but binding and enslaving, killing and injuring, anger and contention. ... Pestilence will become rampant, comets will appear again and again, two suns will come forth side by side, and eclipses will occur with unaccustomed frequency. Black arcs and white arcs will span the sky as harbingers of ill fortune, stars will fall, the earth will shake, and noises will issue from the wells. Torrential

rains and violent winds will come out of season, famine will constantly occur, and grains and fruits will not ripen. Marauders from many other regions will invade and plunder the nation, the people will suffer all manner of pain and affliction, and no place will exist where one may live in safety. The priest Nichiren placed down his pen, knelt on the hard, earthen floor of his hut and gazed, through the open door, down his green, pine-covered valley. He had said his piece. Rulers do not generally like to be told they are evil and mistaken, especially young, rash

ones who live in fear of invasions predicted by raving holier-than-thou priests. Rival priests with the ruler’s ear, do not like to be described as fawning and devious. And no one likes to think that marauders from beyond the sea will appear over the horizon to slaughter the men, rape the women, and enslave the children. Nichiren was condemned to death, and dragged out of town to the execution grounds at Katase. In the dark of night, he frantically threw his holy vestments on the branch of a tree to avoid them being soiled by his blood. The calm sea

shimmered in the light of the moon, and soft waves bathed the beach with their gentle ebb and flow. As the executioner’s sword hovered above his neck, awaiting the order to strike Nichiren raised his face, and despite himself, he swiftly composed a prayer to the God of the Moon. Suddenly, the sky was rent in two by a brilliant light. Nichiren heard the dull yet sonorous sound as the sword fell from his would-be killer’s grasp, and the patter of running feet on the sandy beach. The execution corps fled. Soon, the holy man was alone with the sea,

the stars, ... and the moon. His saviour. The priest let two handfulls of sand seep slowly through his fingers, got slowly to his feet, walked up to where the grass met the sand, retrieved his vestments from the branch where they still hung, and then sank to the ground once more. The divine being had vouched for his virtuosity, saved him from death, ... to continue his mission on earth. And Nichiren was right: after the relative stability of the Shogunate’s early years, environmental catastrophe, natural disasters, and weakening government were leading to social breakdown, starvation - and appeared

to be ushering in the end of days. But that was nothing. As Nichren had predicted, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse were about to descend on the Japanese isles. Mongols. We by the Grace and decree of Heaven, Emperor of Great Mongolia, present a letter to the King of Japan. We have pondered that from ancient times, even the princes of small states have striven to cultivate friendly intercourse with those of adjoining territories. We beg that hereafter you, O King, will establish friendly relations with us so that the sages may make the four seas their home. Is it

reasonable to refuse intercourse with each other? It will lead to war, and who is there who likes such a state of things! Think on this, O King! The first letter had arrived in 1266. Ignoring these communications, and general ignorance in Japan of just how powerful and large the Mongol Empire was – which stretched from Manchuria to Poland – led to Mongol troops storming through the surf at Hakata bay in 1274. The defender’s arrow flew sure. The Mongol toppled from his horse, and waves closed around him. Then the enemy paused. As one, the men in the

rear ranks raised strange looking short bows, a great wave of arrows darkened the sky, shield-less as was their way, the defending samurai fell in droves. Suddenly, thunder roared a short way off. Not in the clear, pale autumn sky, but on the ground! Blood and flesh of samurai flew everywhere. Then the thunder pealed again, and again. These Mongol devils seemed somehow to have enlisted the very heavens to fight on their side. The samurai turned and fled. They would fight men to the death, but dueling with deities was a very different proposition. The enemy advanced up the

wet beach slowly, letting loose wave after wave of arrows, and propelling their grenade-like bombs asunder. The samurai continued a fighting retreat throughout that terrible day. But the enemy came on. Unstoppable. Invincible. Burning, pillaging, killing. Night fell. And in the morning, they were gone. By the time news of the landing reached the young shogun Hojo Tokimune on the other side of the country a heaven-sent typhoon had consigned many of the enemy’s ships to the bottom of the ocean, and the rest scuttling for the safety of Korean harbours. Japan had been lucky this time. No one knew

why, but after that first day of battle on Kyushu, the enemy had returned to their great ships and sailed away. Perhaps they were looking for an easier landing place, maybe it had only been a reconnaissance mission. Either way, the typhoon had put paid to whatever devilry they had kept in store. All knew they would return, and Shiken Hojo Tokimune ordered a frenzy of defensive measures. All along the eastern coast walls were to be built, look outs to be permanently posted, troop numbers multiplied, even weapons to be redesigned to counter the new threat. Kublai smashed his

fist into the floor. These snakes, those worms, these Dwarvish Barbarians of the East. They had performed relatively well against one puny reconnaissance mission in the previous year, and now they thought they could behead his peace envoys with impunity! No action could be more heinous - greater nations had been pulverised, entire cities put to the sword for less. They would pay dearly. A people should know when they have met their match. Kublai’s generals, flush from having re-united China under his rule with their recent victory over the southern provinces, now turned their faces eastwards. Lacking knowledge of

the sea, and remembering the storms that had plagued the first exploratory expedition in 1274, they turned to two Yangtze river pirates Zhu Qing and Zhang Xuan for their expertise. Two fleets would sail for Japan. One, of 900 ships, from Korea, and one of 3,500 ships from southern China. They would carry 142,000 men, the biggest invasion force in history, not to be exceeded until the Allied invasions of Normandy in 1944, nearly 700 years later. Shiken Hojo Tokimune was petrified. He knew what his fate would be should the Mongols reach his capital city of Kamakura. It was

well known that the Mongols refused to spill monarch’s blood, but Tokimune, although a ruler, was in truth merely a regent. Not of royal blood. His family had usurped both Emperor and Shogun. His end would not be swift and after his behaviour towards the envoys, he knew the Mongols would enjoy a degree of creativity in their disposal of him. Wild riders chased him down in his dreams. For once the young, hot-headed Shogunal regent knew fear. To calm him, Tokimune’s spiritual counselor, a recent refugee from southern China, the Zen Master, Mugaku Sogen, told him the story of

when the stinking barbaric nomads had reached his temple in China. Mugaku had knelt unmoving on the floor, the only monk who had not fled. The flames of Mongol devastation crackled around him as a lone rider approached, dismounted and drew his sword for the mortal blow. Mugaku, ignoring the stench of horse and human sweat, raised his voice to a little over a whisper, and looked the rough-looking rider in the eye: I searched the universe, and found the answer. People are empty, even Buddha’s teachings a void. Your great sword, will be as lightening cutting the spring breeze.

The warrior paused, bowed low, and left the monk to live. Mugaku had made his way eastwards to the land where the Sun Rose, and Buddha’s Law was still revered. Quietly the aged Chinese monk advised the young Japanese ruler to meditate, to find the source of his cowardice and fear within. Having done so, Tokimune screamed, “Katsu!” “VICTORY.” Mugaku smiled. “It is true that the son of a lion roars as a lion!” Tokimune sent messengers to the Court to request that all temples and shrines pray for victory. Japan was on high alert. Kikuchi Takefusa, mounted atop a

fine steed, bound in purple armor, crimson cape billowing in the fresh sea breeze watched the water boil with enemy ships. 600 years before, his family had been placed on this border after the fall of Baekje to guard against invasion from what had once been their Korean homeland. That attack had never come, and countless generations had lived in peace. Until now. The Mongols had brought their Korean, Jurchen, and Chinese vassals to subjugate and add yet another realm to their vast empire. Would they never be satisfied? The Korea-based fleet had ravaged the outer islands of Tsushima and

Iki again. And on June 21st 1281 the enemy had appeared off the Kyushu horizon. The fighting was fierce in Hakata Bay. But all attempts at landing had been foiled by the samurai forces. The great ships remained, threatening, massive, darkening the ocean, awaiting the massive but severely delayed reinforcements from China which would undoubtedly deal a mortal blow. The defenders did not sit idle. Small boats put out in the dead of each night. Mongol ships were boarded, their crews put to the sword, vessels were fired and set loose to cause panic. A pandemic broke out. Thousands of

the invaders perished. The ships started to rot. Then the China fleet arrived. Months late, but glorious in its great multitude. There was little hope for the defenders. They knew their time had come. The retired Emperor Kameyama sent an offering to his divine ancestor, Amaterasu, in her chief shrine at Ise, imploring her to intervene to save her children. That very same evening, a storm exploded from the blue August skies. The wind roared, and the waves rose higher than the enemy ships’ mastheads. Susa-no-o, God of Storms, was doing his sister Amaterasu’s bidding at last. When the Susa-no-o

had had enough, the Great Khan and Son of Heaven’s vast army and armada were nothing more than throngs of forlorn bodies, and an abundance of driftwood gentling lapping against the quiet Kyushu shores in Amaterasu’s bright, soft, summer radiance. When the wicked invaders again arrived in 1281 and all persons, believing that the expulsion of the enemy could be effected only by divine will and never by human power... reverently looked up to heaven, and a divine storm rose in mighty force and scattered the enemy ships, and the enemy perished all at once. In China, The Mongols never

totally recovered from the massive material and morale seeping defeat, and although their Chinese domination would struggle on until 1368, it had been in truth dealt a mortal blow. Against all the odds, Japan’s ancient, Mythical Mother – Amaterasu, with a helping hand from her good-for-nothing storm god brother, had won the day. A new Japanese unity was forged in the Mongol fire. The island country of rival clans, competing power centres, and riven factions that had disintegrated into banditry and disunity four hundred years before, and only in the last century found an uneasy balance and firm borders forged

in civil war, had, under threat of foreign invasion, established a feeling that it had never full enjoyed before, that of One Nation united against a common enemy. Japan would remain Japan.