The Isshi Incident

the best time, So thank you so much. If you want to support the show, there are links in the episode description to our Patreon, our merch if you want it, and my books. But again, the best support is just listening to the show, So thank you so much. One brief content warning before this episode. This episode does contain acts of violence and minor descriptions of gore. When Empress Kokyoku woke on the morning of July tenth, six hundred and forty five, she had no reason to suspect that

anything was wrong. I imagine she went through her normal morning routine, had breakfast, got dressed, had some member of her staff review her schedule. Just another day in the life of a Japanese empress in the seventh century. The day's main event was set to take place that afternoon. It would be a reading of the memorials for the three Kingdoms of Korea to be presented to the Japanese

Imperial Court. As the Empress departed her chambers for the palace's main assembly hall, she likely didn't notice these subtle glances that were being shared between the palace guards as

they locked the gates securely behind her. When she entered the hall and took her seat before the Imperial Court, her eyes probably drifted over the room, subconsciously cataloging those she knew in attendance, And while she likely caught sight of her son naca Ye, she almost certainly did not see the discreetly hidden spear that he had taken great lengths to stow near his seat well before he entered

the hall that day. The Empress may have looked over to one of her closest advisers, so gonew Erika, and might have wondered why the typically paranoid man who almost always carried a sword for once, had come to an event unarmed. But if the Empress did spare her adviser a passing thought, it was quickly dismissed as the ceremony's speaker came forward and began his address to the crowd.

The weighty tenor of the speaker's voice carried across the hall with ease, and after his opening remarks, the Empress settled in for what was sure to be another lengthy court ceremony. Though, as I'm sure you figured out by now, Empress Kogyoku's afternoon was about to take a rather drastic turn. It started with a stutter up. Until this point, the speaker had seemed relatively confident before the crowd, but strangely, the more he spoke, the more he began to stumble

over his words. Before long, the staccato stop and start of his speech became almost as distracting as the visibly shaking hand he used to repeatedly wipe the sweat dripping

from his brow. When asked if something was wrong, the speaker, who was named Curiyamada, assured the crowd he was merely nervous to be speaking in front of someone as important as the Empress, But the panic in his eyes told a different story, especially when his eyes kept flitting back to the similarly panicked looking soldiers standing fully armed at

the back of the hall. In truth, the speaker, Curiyamada, had been approached days earlier by the Empress's son, who confided in him his plans to use the ceremony to facilitate the assassination of his political rival Soga no Urica. The adviser. By some miracle, all the moving parts of his plot had been going perfectly to plan. The gates had been locked, the guards had been armed, and at long last, they were finally entering the hall with express

orders to strike down Soga no Urica. While Kiaramata kept the hall's attention going with his speech, except when they were finally faced with the man they were tasked to kill, the guards froze. Maybe they feared the repercussions of their attack, or perhaps they had even been hit with a last

minute stroke of humanity. But whatever the reason, as the speaker Kuriamata stumbled over his words in the final paragraphs of his speech, the guards could only look at each other with mounting fear as their plot dissolved before their eyes. In real time from the audience, the Empress's plotting son, Nakanoye's eyes shot back and forth between the unmoving guards and the distressed speaker until finally he decided to take

matters into his own hands. In one fluid movement, Nakanoya stood from his seat, unsheathed his hidden spear, and launched forward, striking sogana Orca in the vulnerable flesh between his neck and shoulder. For a moment, time stood still, until with a sickening jerk of his arm, nacina Oye wrenched the weapon from his rival's shoulder, and pandemonium took hold in the hall. Between horrified gasps and shrieks of terror, the still conscious sogon To Orika stumbled at the feet of

the Empress in an act of sheer desperation. Moments from death, he begged the Empress to take action to investigate this ultimate treachery committed by her son against the Imperial Court. When the Empress had woken up that morning, there had been no reason to think it would be anything but

a normal day. But as she cast her eyes upon the blood stained blade in the palm of her son's hand, her closest adviser's blood pulling rapidly on her palace floors, she was suddenly all too aware of the fact that her following actions would not just spell the fate of her son and the legacy of her reign, but the future of her nation as a whole. I'm Dana Schwartz,

and this is noble blood. The event that we know today as the Ishi Incident has come to serve as one of the most definitive moments in classical Japanese history. But what could easily be construed as a petty power struggle between two men was in fact the culmination of over a century's worth of political and religious infighting that

was happening within Japan's Imperial court. Within the court, the primary source of power, of course, came from the emperors and later empresses who would come to inherit Japan's chrysanthemum throne. But aside from the imperial family, the sixth and seventh centuries were defined by the introduction of Buddhism and the heavy influence of two rival clans, the Nakatomi clan and

the Soga clan. If you choose to visit Japan today, you would no doubt be greeted with the plethora of Buddhist iconography that have come to decorate the country through temples and statues over the past centuries. But before Buddhism ever came to Japan, Shintoism was the country's primary religion, and to some things up in the absolute broadest possible terms, Buddhism focuses primarily on the self and detachment from earthly possessions.

Shintoism is a polytheistic religion which centers on spirits and deities known as kami. Kami could take the form of spirits or animals found in nature, but some ancient Japanese clans often cited kami as the origin of their ancestral lineage. In the case of the Nakatomi clan, their ancestral ties to kami made them an indispensable asset to the Imperial court when performing certain religious rites, which solidified their place

at the side of the imperial family. Naturally, when Buddhism made its first appearance in Japan in the sixth century, the Nakatomi clan was more than a little concerned. They framed their dislike of the new religion by arguing that it corrupted traditional Japanese values, but more than likely their

primary issue was more political than spiritual in nature. The introduction of Buddhism made the Nakatomi clan's place in court, which relied almost entirely on their status within the Shinto religion, all but obsolete. Meanwhile, the Soga clan were ardent supporters of this new religion making its way through Japan. Although these Soga did not have as direct an effect on court life as the Nakatomi did, their influence came through their clan's daughters, who they made sure to one way

or another marry into the imperial family. Through these marriages, the Soga clan inserted themselves in court as global envoys for the throne, which in turn meant they were likely the first to hear about the introduction of Buddhism through their relations with their Chinese and Korean counterparts. Predictably, the Soga clan were thrilled at the prospect of this new religion. They saw it as a symbol of progress and globalization.

But similarly to the Nakatomi, they also most likely weren't so naive as to only align with the theology purely on a spiritual level. For the Soga clan, the introduction of Buddhism was a way to pry the Nakatomi away from the nearly impenetrable space they had held next to the chrysanthemum throne. If Shintoism no longer had a place

in court, than neither did the Nakatomi. Ultimately, despite the many objections from the Nakatomi clan, by the seventh century, Buddhism had fully taken root in Japan and the Soga clan had all but ousted the Nakatomi from their position in court. Unsurprisingly, this did not quell the feud between the two families, especially when in six hundred and forty three the newly powerful Soga began referring to themselves as sovereigns and using state resources to erect lavish tombs for themselves.

More importantly, since the death of Japan's first Empress, Emperor Suiko in six hundred twenty eight, the Soga had been essentially controlling who ascended the throne, and predictably, their choice of rulers often skewed or those that they would most

likely be able to control. So, despite what most historians believe to have been Empress Suiko's wish to have her successor be a man named Prince Yamashiro, the Soga insisted that the Empress actually wanted to be followed by a man that history would come to know as Emperor JOMEI, who, after his death, once again at the insistence of the Soga clan, would be succeeded by his wife, Empress Kogyoku.

The Empress at the beginning of this story. There are a lot of names I know, and it's probably made even worse because my pronunciation, even though I try my best,

is probably a mess. But if nothing else, just remember that for the first half of the seventh century, the Soga clan were the puppet masters of the Japanese Imperial Court, and the Nakatomi clan were not content to sit idly by and watched their centuries long political rivals continue to pull the strings, but given their lesser status at court, they could do little more than watch as the Soga clan continued to acquire more power through their ties to

the throne. That was until six hundred and forty three, when the leader of the Soga clan, Soga Noamishi, ordered his son to orchestrate an attack on Prince Yamashiro, who had been the Nakatomi clan's choice to succeed Emperor Swiko nearly twenty years prior. Bestowing honorary titles in constructing tombs was one thing, but the assassination proved to be the

final straw for the Nakatomi clan. For decades, they had silently succumbed to the lesser court life after the introduction of Buddhism, but the unti death of Prince Yamashiro installed a sentiment within the Nakatomi clan which would be echoed in the events that were to follow. If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself. By the summer of six hundred and forty five, tensions within the

Nakatomi clan were reaching a boiling point. In the wake of Prince Yamashiro's death, the Nakatomi were itching to take revenge against their long standing political rivals, and in July of that year, it appeared that they would finally be given their chance for a vengeance. Together, nakano Oya, who was the Empress's son and the head of the Nakatomi clan Nakatomi Kamatari, began planning the assassination of the man who had killed Prince Yamashiro. This legitimate claimant to the throne.

The assassin was Soga no Uruka, the Empress's key adviser. The formal court ceremony for the reading of the memorials of the three Kingdoms of Korea provided the perfect backdrop for their revenge. Together, the two powerful men enlisted the help of Nacanoea's kinsmen Kuriamata, who was set to be the speaker at the ceremony. The plan was simple. On the day of the ceremony, palace guards under the control of the Nakatomie would ensure Soga no Rika arrived at

the hall unarmed. After securing all the exits, the guards would arm themselves and then wait for Kuryamada to begin his speech, so that Uruka and the rest of the Soga clan would remain distracted until they could go in

for the kill. Though we all know the saying about best laid plans, before we continue, I think it might be worthwhile to note that the majority of what we know about the Isshi incident, and specifically the source that I am citing the majority of this story from, is from an English translation of an eighth century Japanese text known as the Nikon Shoki, which in addition to reading more like a clunky historical diary than the typical narrative

format that we've come to expect from historical texts in the West, has some let's say, awkward and possibly overexaggerated quotes thrown into its accounts. This isn't to say that the events recounted aren't true, but between the shifts in language that have no doubt occurred since the eighth century and the inherently questionable translations that have stemmed from them since then, I think it's best to take what direct quotes that I might repeat here with a grain of salt.

But back to our story. The day of the ceremony, Nacanoye, the son of the Empress, walked into the chamber and took his seat, subtly checking to make sure the spear that he had hidden near by remained well concealed and within his grasp as he watched his mother take her

seat before the crowd. Elsewhere, the Nakatomie guards were sealing each of the twelve exits before moving to quietly arm themselves for the gruesome task they had in store, gathering the swords and bows and arrows laid out for them at the sound of Kuryamata's speech beginning, another conspirator from the Nakatomi clan rushed forward to hurry the men along, saying, up, up,

make haste to slay him. At the sound of the hall's door opening, I imagine Nacanoye did his best not to look back and watch his guards quietly filing into the room. At long last, after not only weeks of planning, but decades of political power struggle, the end of the Saga clan was within reach, until, of course, it wasn't.

In exchange for their services, nacanoy and Nakatomi Kamatari made sure to offer the palace guards a handsome reward, but in the end it appeared that no amount of money would tempt the guards into taking the life of one of the Empress's closest advisers, not even at the request of her son. With the speaker nervous and his decorum slipping almost as rapidly as the end of his speech was approaching, nacanoy took his hidden spear and rose to

enact the retribution that no one else wood. With a determined cry and a swing of his blade, the hall descended into chaos. Screams of fear and outrage poured from those of the Soga clan left standing, but they did nothing to staunch the gaping wound left in Soga Noorka's neck and shoulder. The man's robes darkened from the free flowing blood running down his chest, but somehow Orka remained conscious.

Using what was left of his energy, Soga Noorka dragged himself in front of the Empress and begged quote, she who occupies the dignitary is the child of Heaven. I, her servant, am conscious of no crime, and I beseech her to deign to make examination into this end quote. In her shock, Empress Kagyoku shifted her gaze from the dying Iroka to her son, saying, I know not what

has been done? What is the meaning of this? To this, Nakanoe bowed at his mother's feet and defended his actions by presenting them as for the good of the throne to the Empress. Though his words carried little weight. His attack in the end may not have been strong enough to actually end Irika's life in one fail swoop. But the moment he had stood and raised his spear, the Empress knew that her son had all but ended her reign.

Without another word, Empress Kugyoku stood from her seat, and, with one final look cast between the two men, left the hall and secured what was left of sagun no Irka's fate. Because when the door closed behind her, the Empress no doubt heard the flurry of rising panic as her son and his men wasted no time in finishing what they had started and actually killing the man they had intended to kill. In the aftermath of Sogonoorka's assassination,

life in the Imperial court shifted almost overnight. This in large part has to do with this period in Japanese history's perspective on the sanctity of the chrysanthemum throne. In the eyes of the public, the throne was seen as a position meant to be pure and untouched by quote pollution,

whether it be spiritual or physical. But in act such as the brutal murder of Soganoorka in front of the Empress herself would have been considered pollution of the utmost degree, which was why within two days of the attack, Empress

Kogyoku abdicated the throne from the outside. The obvious choice for Kuyoki's successor would be her son Nakanoi, but the head of the Nakatomi and Nakanoe's co conspirator, Nakatomi Kamatari, managed to convince the young prince that it would be more beneficial for his political career should he wait to take the throne, not so soon after facilitating an attack within the empirical court. It was with this in mind

that Empress Kogyoku's brother ascended the throne, becoming Emperor Shuitoku. Meanwhile, outside the imperial court, the Soga clan was floundering in the fallout of Irika's death. In the days following his assassination, members of the Nakatomi clan took it upon themselves to lay waste to the rest of the Soga clan, and their leader, who was Uruka's father, Soga non Amishi, knew that it was only a matter of time before they

came for him as well. In the grief of his son's assassination and the inevitable destruction of his family line, Soga no Amishi ultimately decided to take his life into his own hands only a day after his son's murder, with the threat of the Nakatomi clan looming heavily over his head. On July eleventh, six hundred and forty five, Amishi calmly set fire to his home and locked himself inside, effectively drawing a definitive and dramatic end to the reign

of the Soga clan. That was the gruesome story of the Yeshi incident. But stick around after the sponsor break to hear a little more about Empress Kogyoku after her abdication. It stands to reason that Empress Kogyoku's story would end with her reign in July of six hundred forty five, and in a way it did, but not entirely. Let

me explain. The reign of Empress Kogyoku may have ended with the Yishi incident, but following the death of her initial successor, her brother a decade later, Empress Kugyoku would once again ascend to the Japanese imperial throne, only this time under the name Empress Saime. Who doesn't love a good rebrand. Empress Saime's second reign was marked with much less political turmoil than her first, and this one only ended at her death in six hundred and sixty one.

This time, she was finally succeeded by her son, the assassin Nakanoe, who became Emperor Tenji, and after over fifteen years since conspiring together to create the Yeshi Incident, Tenji would award his close political adviser Nakatomi Kamatari with his own clan name, making him Fujiwara no Kamatari, head of

the new Fujiwara clan. The Fujiwaras would go on to hold power within the Imperial court from the seventh century well into the eighteen hundreds, and to this day are considered to be one of the most powerful ancient families in classical Japanese history. It's strange to end the episode on this note because I want to make clear I don't think assassinations and murder are good ideas, but in this one specific case, it did really work out for the people who planned it. Noble Blood is a production

of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Noble Blood is hosted by me Danish Swartz. Additional writing and researching done by Hannah Johnston, hannah's Wickma Hayward, Courtney Sunder, and Laurie Goodman. The show is produced by rima Il Kaali, with supervising producer Josh Thane and executive producers Aaron Manky, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.