The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part I

In this first of two episodes we take a look at the 5th century stele of Gwangaetto of Goguryeo and what it says about the actions of the Wa on the Korean Peninsula at that time.

For more, check out the podcast webpage at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-44

Rough Transcript

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 44: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part One

Today we are going to head back to the peninsula for a bit and talk about what was going on there, ostensibly during the reign of our current sovereign in Yamato, Homuda Wake.  This is going to be the first of two episodes—I was initially just planning to do one but, honestly, I felt there was enough here to break it into two shorter pieces.

As I’ve alluded to in previous episodes, one of the frustrating things about this period in Japanese history is how far all of our sources are from the actual events that are happening.  I mean, sure, the writers of the Chronicles were bringing in fragments of records that were probably closer to the source, but they were compiling this all with their knowledge of events some 3 to 4 centuries later.  We have enough trouble figuring out what happened in the 17th and 18th centuries, today, and that was with all of the things that actually got written down.  And a lot of historical records are not the most detailed—people tend to leave out a lot of the whys and wherefores and simply give you the bare bones details.  Consider: if you are going to write an account of what is going on around you, what do you include, and what do you leave out with the assumption that it is obvious to readers? Filling in the missing pieces is a constant practice for historians.  I mean, if 2020 were recounted in ancient histories it probably would be something like:  In the 2nd month of 2020, a great plague infested the land and there was great suffering.  And that literally might be about it.  Perhaps in 2021 you’d see a note about vaccines being distributed for the Great Plague, but you wouldn’t get a blow-by-blow of what happened, who said what, when, etc.   And then, hundreds of years later, someone has to find that particular entry of interest for their purposes and include it in their compilation of events.  It is no wonder things get lost.

And so whenever we can get a contemporary account to compare the Japanese Chronicles to, it is priceless.  And that’s why the Gwangaetto stele is so impressive.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, the fact that it is a huge slab of stone is rather impressive.  Specifically it is a large slab of natural stone, 6.2 meters, and about one and a half to two meters on a side.  It is covered in Sinographic characters—Chinese writing—and these tell the story of King Gwangaetto the Great of Goguryeo.For us, though, the most important part is that it was erected in 414 and it tells the story of Gwangaetto the Great and his reign, covering the period from about 390 to Gwangaetto’s death – so, in other words, it was written down shortly after all of those events happened.  And even that might not mean much to our story except that many of his dealings specifically mention the Wa, or Japanese.  So, this stone slab is possibly the closest we have to a contemporaneous, eyewitness account of what was happening on the peninsula, and what role the Wa had in it.

Before we get to what it says—and match that up with what we know in our other sources, let’s talk briefly about the history of this monument so we can gain a little bit of context.  We know that it was erected in 414 outside of the tomb of King Gwangaetto the Great of Goguryeo.  His tomb lies just outside of the capital at that time in Jian, in the middle reaches of the Yalu River in what is today part of the People’s Republic of China.  Shortly after the stele was erected, Gwangaetto’s successor moved the capital south, to Pyongyang, leaving several families in charge of taking care of the tomb and the stele.  Eventually, Goguryeo itself fell, becoming part of a single, unified kingdom that would become what we know as Korea, and over time the area of the old capital site was completely abandoned.  The grand tombs of the kings of old became overgrown, and their monuments were lost, except to the odd traveler who would pass by and remark on them, but whether it was because they were so overgrown, or just a general apathy, nobody seems to have bothered to record what they had to say.  Despite this, the monument continued to stand, alone, for centuries.

It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the stele gained renewed interest.  The Qing dynasty had decided to open up land in the area of modern Jian, and numerous farmers, lured out with the promise of new land to open up, started to come in and cultivate the area.  This was no doubt driven in part by the encroachment of Russia and the European powers, creating a very dynamic situation.  Into this mix came Japanese adventurers as well.

When some farmers reported their find of a large stone slab, the local Qing official came out to investigate.  To get a better look, he had all of the vegetation covering the stone burned off, leaving only the stone itself, and using tracing paper he had the first ever copy made. Holding the tracing paper up to the stone, the characters were individually traced, one by one, and then everything outside of them was filled in with black ink.  This kind of copy is less accurate than a rubbing, and prone to error, but may have been done because of the stone’s rough, uneven surface.  Eventually there would be rubbings made as well.

Only a few short years after its discovery, the stele was noticed by a Japanese man named Sakao Kagenobu.  He was an army officer and an intelligence agent of the Japanese General Staff office, and he was charged with investigating conditions in Manchuria and China.  Since the Meiji Revolution in 1868, which overthrew the shogunate and put in place a new government under the head of Emperor Meiji, Japanese, particularly military officers, had been traveling around the world in an effort to help gather information and modernize their newly opened state.  Japan had a particular interest in the continent, and was already building its influence in part through the rapid acquisition of western technology.  When Kagenobu sent an outline tracing of the stele back to the Japanese General Staff Office there was a lot of fascination with it because this object—situated at the head of the Korean peninsula—contained numerous references to the “Wa”, a known reference to Japan and the Japanese, such that even the kanji for Yamato can be translated as the Great Wa.  Moreover, these references included language that could be interpreted to say that the early Japanese state had actually subjugated the kingdoms of Baekje and Silla, enhancing the idea of Japan as a powerful early state with historical claims on the ancient Korean entities.

There was also mention of another important location in the stele’s text:  Nimna, or as the Japanese knew it, Mimana.

Now as we’ve discussed on previous episodes, the Japanese Chronicles mention Mimana, and in the early 19th century it was specifically believed in Japan that ancient Yamato had a colony on the Peninsula which was referred to as “Mimana Nihonfu”—a phrase used in the chronicles for the 6th century, during the reign of the sovereign known posthumously as Kinmei Tennou.  This phrase has raised a lot of speculation and debate, but in the 19th century the Japanese—particularly members of the General Staff—latched onto this idea of Japan’s historical role on the peninsula  as a rationalization for their own desires to gain a foothold on the continent.  A team of military scholars and civilian historians were convened to go over the stele, which does mention both the Wa and the country of Nimna.  They published their findings in 1889 under the authorship of Yokoi Tadanao, who was a professor at the Military Academy and the director of the research into the stele’s inscription. 

Of course, Japan would go ahead and continue to push forward their continental ambitions, and in 1895 they would go to war with the Qing in what has become known as the first Sino-Japanese war.  Ostensibly this was to protect Japanese interests in Korea, and it largely put Korea under Japanese influence.  Japan would eventually set up the puppet state of Manchu-kuo and generally continue to be belligerent until they were defeated at the end of World War II.  And while the interpretation of the Gwangaetto stele had not exactly caused the war, it was one more factor seen as pushing the Japanese in that direction.

And so it should be unsurprising the Korean scholars have challenged the interpretation of the stele by the Japanese military.  There are even claims that the Japanese military defaced the inscription, changing, adding, or erasing characters to ensure that it fit with their interpretation.  This was first brought up by Yi Chin-hui, a Korean scholar living in Japan in the early 1970s who published his own work, studying the various tracings, rubbings, etc. that had been made by that point. This had intense repercussions throughout the scholarly community, with some looking to reexamine the inscription and others attacking Yi’s work.  Since then independent Chinese scholars have verified the authenticity of the inscription as it is known—though there are certainly parts missing, there is no indication of deliberate tampering with the passage that has been found.

In fact, in more recent years, another stele was found that seems to authenticate some of the Gwangaetto stele’s inscription—or at least the characters used in it.  Though the other inscription was more administrative in nature, the characters used seemed to match those found on the Gwangaetto stele.  Similar characters have also been found in metal engravings from this period.  All of that helps vouch for the veracity of the inscription as it is.

That hasn’t exactly settled the debate, however, and arguments about the authenticity still come up from time to time.  The stele is worn and some of the characters are missing—or may never have existed in the first place, given the irregularities of the stone, which may have forced the authors to shorten some of the lines.  In addition, the language it is written in does not lend itself to easy translation.  Scholars have made various interpretations of the stele by breaking sentences at different points.  Since the ancient Chinese that was the early written language of the peninsula and the archipelago didn’t exactly use punctuation like we do today, and even the meaning of certain characters has changed over time, there is a lot of room to interpret the stele in different ways, and some of the missing characters could drastically affect a reading if they were something unexpected.  Scholarly arguments exist for various readings, most biased in some way towards a particular scholar’s pre-existing understanding of this history of this period.

On top of questions of authenticity and interpretation there are also questions about the veracity of what was written on the stele.  Though many of the sections of interest to us were written in a matter-of-fact style, we must remember that this was, primarily, a political tool, written to aggrandize a deceased monarch.  Gwangaetto himself is referred to specifically as a “King” or even “Great King”, while the rulers of other states are given lesser titles of sovereignty—a not-so-subtle dig at their status vis-à-vis Goguryeo.

Some of these even get downright rude.  While the character used for the Wa is the same derogatory character that showed up in the Wei and Han chronicles, the Wa forces are usually referenced as either pirates or brigands rather than with more martial or military terms.  Likewise the state of Baekje is actually referred to as Baekchan, or just “Chan”, using a character that means “crippled”.  It has been suggested that this was an attempt to label Baekje as a morally crippled state, likely named such because of the opposition they presented to Goguryeo.

There is also a debate on just who is meant by the “Wa” in this inscription.  Many have debated that the actions taken by Wa seem much too grandiose to be referring to the archipelago, which many see at this point as not yet unified into the kind of kingdom that could be participating in military expeditions over on the peninsula; certainly the keyhole tomb mound culture is still growing across the archipelago, but there are plenty of regional differences such that many don’t consider the unification of the islands entirely complete.  Others have suggested that the “Wa” mentioned here are simply ethnic Wa pirate groups, likely based out of North Kyushu.  Others have suggested that the Wa were an extension of Baekje.  Still others have suggested that they were a completely different group.

All that said, I think there is still plenty in here to give us an idea of what was happening, and I tend to think that the Wa here is, indeed, referring to the Japanese of the archipelago.  It may not necessarily mean that every instance of Wa was a formally sanctioned military endeavor by the court at Yamato.  Which gets to one more thing about the stele:  the events it talks about don’t necessarily have clear connection with anything in the other written records.  Neither the Samguk Sagi nor the Japanese chronicles reference the information from the stele directly.  That doesn’t mean they disagree, though: when you look at the events, many seem to line up, even if years don’t exactly correlate.

Now the content of the stele itself can largely be broken up into three parts.  The opening lines are about the mythical founding of Goguryeo, all the way back to the legendary King Jumong, and then the rise of the stele’s main subject, King Gwangaetto.

The second part of the stele, which is the area that we are most interested in at this point, recounts his military exploits and expeditions.  All  told,there are roughly seven different campaigns that are mentioned on the stele.  Along with the subjugation of various groups, some of whom we have no other clear records for,  like the Pi-Li, the Po-Shen, and the Tung-fu-yu, the stele also details one campaign specifically against Baekje and several campaigns, against the Wa, including not a few invectives thrown at them for good measure.  It is these latter campaigns that will be our primary focus.

The last part of the stele includes instructions for the tombs caretakers—those families who were put in charge of tending to the tomb and its environs.  Though a fascinating look at Goguryeo culture and society, we’ll leave that for other scholars to ponder.

So enough with the context.  We’ll be looking at what was happening during the time covered in the stele’s inscription, and we’ll be placing it in context with the information from the Korean annals of the Samguk Sagi and what we find in the Japanese Chronicles as well to try to get a handle for just what might have been happening. So let’s get into just what we think is going on here, and to start with, let’s check back in with the Kingdom of Goguryeo.

Now several episodes back when we were talking about Baekje we mentioned that Baekje under King Chogo, who reigned from about 346-375, was at the height of its power.  During his reign they had pushed north, all the way to Pyongyang, where they had even killed king Gogugweon of Goguryeo, giving him the dubious distinction of being the only king of Goguryeo to ever actually die in battle.

Of course, that didn’t put an end to the violence.  Baekje may have had a significant victory, but it appears they did not have the forces to keep it—something we’ll see time and again.  So after sacking Pyongyang, rather than occupying the city for themselves, Baekje pulled back, keeping only a portion of the territory they had conquered. Back and forth fighting continued along the border between Baekje and Goguryeo through the next several reigns.  But it wasn’t just Baekje that Goguryeo was fighting.  Positioned as they were at the head of the Korean peninsula, straddling the areas of modern Liaoning and Jilin, they were also contending with various tribes in the north, as well as with natural disasters—in the years 388-389 there was drought and locusts leading to severe famine.

Then, in 391, the King died, and the Crown Prince, Tamdeok,  came to the throne.  He would be the one who would later be known as Gwangaetto the Great, and he’s the one for whom this stele was eventually erected.

Now, spoiler alert:  if you know Korean history you likely know about Gwangaetto the Great.  His full posthumous title is Kukkangsang Kwanggaet'ogyeong hot'ae-wang, and sometimes he is known as Hot’ae and sometimes as Yeongnak.  He was probably known as Tamdeok until after his death, but for our purposes I’m going to refer to him as Gwangaetto.  If you go out looking there are movies and even miniseries about him as one of the truly legendary figures in Korean history.  Even without the stele, he’s a badass who expanded his nation’s reach over the course of his reign.  It is in this expansion that he came into contact with the Wa, and thus our interest.

Despite the trials of the previous reign, Goguryeo seems to have been doing alright when Prince Tamdeok assumed the throne.  The stele, which was written some 2 decades later, claims that Baekje and Silla had long been subjects of Goguryeo, but in 391 Wa came in, and, well, basically they messed everything up.  If we are to believe the stele, Goguryeo was sitting sweet and pretty at the top of the heap on the peninsula and, well, it would have stayed that way if it weren’t for those meddling Wa.

This is perhaps the most controversial part of the entire stele, because one interpretation is that the Wa came in and effectively subjugated both Baekje and Silla.  This is based on a particular reading of the characters and an assumption of one missing character.  This reading, of course, fits in beautifully with that of the Japanese Chronicles, which does make the claim that Yamato did cross the waves and subdue Silla and at least ally themselves with Baekje.  But yet, when we look at the archaeology, do we really see a state ready to take on this kind of an expansionist challenge?  According to the archaeological record, the islands themselves weren’t fully unified at this time, so how is it that they are quote-unquote “subjugating” others?

And maybe part of it has to do with that word, “subjugate”.  To quote Inigo Montoya:  “You keep using that word… I do not think it means what you think it means.”

For most of us, I suspect when we hear “subjugate” we think of the meaning “to bring under dominion or control”, and it is that last piece, “control”, that I’m not sure is entirely accurate.  From what we’ve seen of the Wa at this time, their modus operandi appears to be that of a seaborne raiding culture, when it comes to the peninsula.  If they can get the resources they need without raiding—for instance if someone is willing to pay them to get out of the fighting and inevitable destruction that would come with it—then that suits their needs.  And so I wonder if “subjugate”, to them, was little more than ensure promises of payment.

There was no need for direct interference in their local affairs.  As long as people paid lip service to your authority and the prestige goods, kept making their way through—by which Yamato could pay off the other states in the archipelago and keep them on their side, then what more is needed?

But the language that they are using to record all of this is the language of empire.  And so I take it that everything could be skewed through that lens as well.  The words and terms that were likely expected by the scribes, who have inherited their arts from the courts of the Jin, the Wei, and going back to the Han and Qin states, well, those were based on a concept of statehood and control that may have far outpaced what we actually have in the peninsula—let alone the archipelago—at this time. 

There is also the thought here that the scribes of Goguryeo may have been exaggerating for effect.  This is the tomb of Gwangaetto the Great, after all!  Of course Baekje and Silla had been their subjects.  You know… in the past… at some point…. Hey now, let’s not get caught up in all the minutiae, alright?  They were ours and you all know it and you can just shut up about it.

Seriously, though, this was meant to be a monument, and claiming some kind of ancient status over the peninsula was just the kind of power move that one would expect here, so I don’t think we need to pay it too much mind, honestly.

That said, in support of the stele’s take on things, we are told in the Samguk Sagi that the king of Silla sent his nephew, Silseong, to live in Goguryeo as a hostage, so one assumes that they were fairly close.  Or at least, Silla wanted to be close—probably influenced by the fact that they had pirates on their coastline and Baekje at their front door. That said, I’m not sure I’m buying it that Baekje was in the same position: There are numerous accounts of Goguryeo raiding the Baekje border, and vice versa, and, again according to the Samguk Sagi, in 392, King Gwangaetto of Goguryeo attacked Baekje with such ferocity that of the King of Baekje at that time pretty much refused to go out and face them.  He just noped himself into his capital city and allowed the Goguryeo to do their thing.

It is possible that the stele could be referencing the much older connection—that Baekje claimed descent from the same Buyeo nobility as Goguryeo.  If they really were founded by nobility from Buyeo or even from Goguryeo itself, the Goguryeo court may have honestly seen Baekje as their traditional subjects, regardless of how Baekje saw things.

And speaking of Baekje, let’s switch focus for a moment: According to the Baekje annals in the  Samguk Sagi, this historical noping-out was in the 8th year of King Chinsa, a grandson of King Chogo, who had previously opened up relations with the Wa. He had taken over when his brother, King Chim’nyu, unexpectedly died just two years into his reign.  As it turned out, Chim’nyu’s own son, Abang, was still young, and so Chinsa came to the throne instead.  Japanese records, based on their own copy of the old Baekje annals, also acknowledge Chim’nyu’s death and Chinsa’s ascension, but claim that Chinsa effectively usurped the throne.  If that is the case, one has to wonder just how much of the court supported his reign at this time.  The official record paints a rather flattering picture of him, but what wasn’t written down?  Rarely do you see this kind of usurpation without some hard feelings.

The Nihon Shoki goes on to provide an account from 392 that claims that Chinsa was disrespectful towards Japan—a rather vague causus belli that goes hand-in-hand with the exaggerated position that they were somehow suzerains of the southern peninsula—so Homuda Wake sent a force to call him to account.  However, by the time they arrived they found that he had died—specifically the Nihon Shoki claims that the people of Baekje killed him by way of apology and established his nephew, Abang, as King.

Could it be that with all of Baekje’s defeats at the hands of Goguryeo—especially the latest by King Tamdeok, aka Gwangaetto—he offered some form of submission to Goguryeo?  If so, Yamato may have seen this as disrespectful if they believed that Baekje had pledged their submission—or at least allegiance—to *them* instead.  After all, Goguryeo appears to have been allied with Yamato’s traditional rival, Silla, and so if Goguryeo asserted dominion of some kind over Baekje as well, Yamato would be isolated.  That could disrupt the flow of goods to the islands, and, as we’ve seen multiple times in the past, when the trade spigot is turned off or disrupted the archipelago often experiences chaos.  I even wonder if this isn’t the basis for the apparent unity within the archipelago—even if the countries themselves are independent, they would band together to keep the routes to the continent open for trading—not to mention the occasional raid.

That said, only the Nihon Shoki claims that the King Chinsa was killed by his own people.  It would be understandable—if he wasn’t standing up to Goguryeo, Baekje’s long-time rival, that may have been seen as grounds for some sort of coup.  But the Korean sources we have claim that he actually spent time hunting out at a place called Kuweon, around the time that Goguryeo attacked and overran the seemingly impregnable fortress of Kwanmmi.  The King was gone for 10 days, never returning back to the court, and he finally died at his temporary residence.

It is easy, here, to see a King that has abdicated his responsibilities.  While he doesn’t have a golf course to go to, hunting was effectively the noble equivalent at the time—a leisure pastime for the wealthy, as opposed to subsistence hunting for your daily meal.  And here he’s out gallavanting at the same time that Goguryeo is devastating the north of the country.  It would hardly be unusual in human history for members of his court to be eager to do something about a King that wasn’t governing, regardless of whether his actions would have actually affected the outcome or not. 

Then there is also that question about what happened with the succession.  If he really had come to power under questionable terms, and there was a legitimate heir waiting in the wings, perhaps there was already an anti-Chinsa faction at the court who questioned his legitamacy, and, well—let’s just say that I wonder what actually happened out on that hunting trip, you know?

Regardless of what actually happened, it seems clear that King Chinsa was dead, and Prince Abang, the son of King Chimnyu, was crowned as the new King of Baekje, and he would be known to posterity as King Asin.  Now King Asin’s reign was almost immediately faced with the threat of Goguryeo and King Gwangaetto’s expansionist intentions.  There were successive campaigns between Baekje and Goguryeo.  In fact, there was a campaign of some sort each year for the next three years, in 393, 394, and 395.  So if there were any concessions that Goguryeo had extracted from King Chinsa, it seems those were already as dead as season two of Jupiter’s Legacy.

Things came to a head in the autumn of 395.  Baekje’s annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that King Asin ordered his troops to attack Goguryeo, and King Gwangaetto himself rode out to meet them, personally commanding 7000 of his own soldiers.  The resulting battle above the P’aesu River was a huge defeat for Baekje, who lost 8,000 soldiers in the engagement.  King Asin then attempted to personally lead an army to avenge the loss of their soldiers, but they were caught in a snowstorm in the mountains.  Many of their officers froze to death, and the King withdrew to Hansan Fortress.

Given the scale of their loss—first at the hands of Goguryeo, and then at the hands of General Winter herself—it puts the information on the stele in perspective, for that stone edifice claims that in the following year King Gwangaetto personally sailed down with a fleet to Baekje—though perhaps that was actually part of this same campaign.

Now, according to the stele, the Goguryeo forces swept through, capturing 18 fortress and eventually making their way to Baekje’s own capital, where they forced King Asin to submit and swear his allegiance.  As part of his submission they took away a great number of people—likely to be enslaved—and great quantities of cloth.  They also required territorial concessions and forced King Asin to send his younger brother and ten high officials as hostages to the Goguryeo court.

One can only imagine the devastation that this invasion wrought on the state of Baekje, but it is interesting to note that while Goguryeo took people and material, but there is no mention that they left anyone behind to govern or otherwise attempt to directly control Baekje.  Instead they left the king on the throne and took hostages as assurances that Baekje would not attack again. 

This is the first campaign mentioned against Baekje on the stele, despite the other records of fighting, above, possibly because it was the most significant, or possibly aggregating all of those assaults into one.  After all, there was only so much stele to go around.  Either way, the Baekje Annals conveniently left this out of their own story, it seems—or at least the later compilers of the Samguk Sagi opted not to include it—or perhaps something happened to it.

This all may explain the corresponding entry for the next year in the Nihon Shoki, though, where we are only told that King Asin “disrespected” Wa—which seems similar to the language used when they sent a force to call to task his uncle, King Chinsa.  What form this “disrespect” took is, again, not defined.  One could presume that Baekje signing their allegiance to Goguryeo was the offense.  But what if it was something else?  What if some sort of expected bribe, um, I mean tribute payment never made it?  After all, Goguryeo had just devastated Baekje, and whatever trade missions had been going on between the Baekje and the Wa may have been disrupted.  The “disrespect” could basically have just meant that they didn’t have anything to offer in whatever trade agreements they had made with each other.

As we’ve seen already, when the flow of trade stopped, that seems to be when Yamato would mount another expedition to the peninsula.

In this case, however, there was no force necessary, because King Asin  preemptively reached out making assurances to Yamato, and both the Nihon Shoki and the Samguk Sagi mention that King Asin sent his own son, Crown Prince Jeonji, to the Wa as a hostage at this time.

Since we’ve mentioned hostages a couple of times already, let’s pause a moment to talk about what this likely meant.  We’ve seen what looks like two different kinds of hostages, though for similar purposes I suspect that Prince Jeonji’s status in Yamato was much more amicable than that of his uncles’ as hostages in Goguryeo.  After all, Baekje had submitted to Goguryeo, but only under extreme duress, and the hostages were there specifically as leverage to ensure obedience.  Baekje, however, was under no such threat from Yamato—at least, not that we are aware of.  Certainly the Japanese chronicles talk a good game, but as we saw it looks like they may have been more about rading than actually subjugating per se.  Granted, Baekje was likely were ensuring good relations and preventing potential pirate raids along the coast, but even the Baekje annals mention that this was a friendly exchange, and make no intimations whatsoever that it was performed under duress of any kind.

That said, it strikes me that King Asin had to have realized how precarious his position was.  What if Goguryeo had required the Crown Prince as a hostage, and not just King Asin’s brothers?  Sending the young Prince Jeonji to a friendly Yamato court got him out of harm’s way and it helped cement their alliance with the Wa, a potential ally against an increasingly powerful and belligerent Goguryeo.  King Asin was playing a dangerous international game—as soon as Goguryeo caught wind of the alliance they would know that something was up and likely attempt to punish Baekje.

For Yamato, this must have been emboldening.  To have another kingdom send their Crown Prince to their court must have been a huge boost in prestige.  Also, I would suspect that a number of Baekje officials and servants may have come with him—after all, as Crown Prince of Baekje he no doubt had a household to maintain.  And maintaining close ties with Baekje is what would lead to them eventually receiving horses for the first time, brining Ajikki, and then Wang’in, to help teach the court how to read and write—and perhaps as the young Crown Prince’s tutor as well. 

Now as it stands, Yamato hadn’t been sitting on the sidelines all this time.  Besides involving themselves with Baekje when Chinsa submitted to Goguryeo in 392, a year later the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi tell us that the Wa invaded that country once again.  It isn’t clear if this was a force from Yamato or an independent group of raiders—if it is mentioned in the Chronicles then the dates don’t match up clearly, and there isn’t enough to definitively say which attack this was, but it fits a general pattern, regardless.  Clearly there was still animosity between Silla and Yamato, and the alliances were shaping up.  It seems as thought it was Silla and Goguryeo against Baekje and Yamato—and possibly some of the states of Kara as well.   This was where things were headed on the Peninsula at this point—it seems everyone was picking  side, lest they find themselves caught in the middle.

Now if King Asin of Baekje was afraid of Goguryeo finding out about his alliance with the Wa, he wasn’t trying to hide it.  Instead it looks like he went on the offensive, himself. A year after sending his son to Yamato, King Asin of Baekje began preparations to attack Goguryeo again, hostages be damned.  Goguryeo had been in constant struggle, and in 398 the stele tells us that King Gwangaetto had sent out a small force to subjugate the Su-shen, another independent group in their orbit,, so Baekje may have seen this as a chance.  However, as they were gathering the troops they witnessed a falling star—actually, the Samguk Sagi claims that the star fell into the Baekje camp—and King Asin decided to hold off.  This was likely a wise decision, as the stele’s text makes it seem like the bulk of Goguryeo’s forces were still available to be deployed.

That said, word would soon reach Goguryeo about the Baekje-Wa alliance and when it did, King Gwangaetto was not a happy camper.  He gathered his forces, and he started moving south.  And heaven help anyone who stood in his way.

And that’s where we are going to wrap it up for now.  This gives us most of the background, including the continuing relations between Baekje and Wa, the conflicts between Baekje and Goguryeo, and the continued attacks by Wa on Silla.  Soon we’ll get into perhaps the greatest conflict detailed on the stele, especially as it concerns us and the history of Japan.

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

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