Both Daniel and Cassie stared at the trove keeper blankly.
He held up his hand. “Let me back up. Shinto is the traditional religion of Japan. It has its roots in the prehistoric past, probably springing from Siberian shamanism fifty thousand years ago. That’s why Shinto doesn’t have any founder or religious texts. It’s an animist religion. ‘Animist’ is a derogatory term that overlords use to describe the concept that everything has a soul. In Shinto, the divine essence of a thing is called a kami. The term can refer to a god in the conventional overlord sense, but it can also apply to a rock or a tree or an ancestor or an event. Whatever someone considers holy.”
“That sounds really New Age,” Cassie observed.
“Or really Old Age depending on your perspective.” Ken chuckled. “The notion of the sanctity of all life is as ancient as human spirituality itself. Shinto holds that the greatest divine spirit, or kami, is the sun goddess Amaterasu. Actually, she’s the mother creator of the whole universe, not just a sun deity. Her name means ‘the great august god who shines in heaven.’”
Griffin picked up the thread. “The worship of Amaterasu is significant because it has survived to this very day despite Japan’s overlord culture. Both Buddhists and Confucians actively discouraged her worship but never succeeded in stamping it out. The Japanese flag is a rising sun, the emblem of Amaterasu. The imperial dynasty only legitimized its rule by claiming that Amaterasu ordained it. In fact, the emperor is supposedly descended from the goddess herself.”
“And it all began thousands of years ago with the Jomon.” Ken eyed the scion, silently daring him to offer an objection. When none came, the trove keeper continued. “But it’s more than goddess worship that proves the Jomon were matristic. We know they were a peaceful, gender-equal society from the contents of their pit graves.”
“Pit graves!” Cassie registered alarm.
The trove keeper seemed bewildered by her reaction. “Yes, there were about a hundred found at this site.”
“Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for me to be standing here.” The pythia took a few steps backward.
Griffin placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Our pythia had rather a bad experience at Anyang.”
“Anyang.” Ken gave a low whistle. “I can understand why. If I was a psychic, I wouldn’t want to set foot in that place.”
“What’s Anyang?” Daniel asked.
“An overlord site in China that we visited during our last recovery mission,” the scrivener informed him.
“Yeah, it was a hoot.” Cassie grimaced. “Pits full of decapitated and mutilated human sacrifices. One old dude was even buried alive, and I got to channel that experience!”
“Oh.” The scion’s eyes grew wide.
“Don’t worry, Cassie.” Ken’s tone was reassuring. “The Jomon pit graves are nothing like that. Still, the comparison to Anyang illustrates a point I was about to make. Anyang is all about overlord power. Ofune isn’t. The pit graves here contained a mix of male and female skeletons buried at different times over the centuries. Nobody was given an elaborate state funeral that included buried plunder and slaughtered slaves. This wasn’t a ‘big man’ type of society. In fact, the greatest care was taken in burying infants and children, not dignitaries. Most significant of all, not a single skeleton we’ve unearthed shows any sign of violent death. The same is true of all the other Jomon sites as well. They were a peaceful people.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Cassie swept her gaze over the hilltop. “The vibe of this place has absolutely zero drama, zero trauma.” She smiled contentedly. “I like it here. It feels nice.”
“So, what happened to them?” Daniel asked.
“The same thing that happens to all peaceful cultures.” Ken rolled his eyes. “Overlords.”
“I believe the Jomon were driven out of this area by the Yayoi people,” Griffin said.
“That’s right,” trove keeper agreed. “Around 1000 BCE, a new group migrated to Japan from the Asian mainland. They knew how to plant rice, and they lived in a stratified society with different clans battling each other using bronze and iron weapons. For a long time, it was believed the Yayoi came from Korea. They might have taken that route to get here, but DNA evidence shows they originated in the Yangtse River valley.”
“So, they were Han Chinese,” Griffin concluded.
“In all their overlord glory,” Ken summarized grimly. “It doesn’t appear that the Yayoi slaughtered the Jomon. The gatherer-hunters simply pulled up stakes and moved farther north to get out of range. Eventually, they all died out. The Ainu tribe contains remnants of Jomon DNA, but their numbers are dwindling too.”
“Same old, same old.” Cassie sighed. “Overlords move in. Everything good dies out.”
“Strangely enough, Yayoi women retained some vestige of authority,” the trove keeper said. “Around 200 CE, their ruler was a shaman-queen named Himiko. She was succeeded by another female ruler, but reigning queens vanished with the influx of more foreigners. By 300 CE, tribes were burying their rulers in kurgan-style mounds with lavish grave goods indicating that an overlord society had emerged.”
Ken paused in his lecture and searched the faces of his listeners. “So, is everybody up to speed on Jomon culture now?”
The trio mumbled their assent.
“Good.” The trove keeper unexpectedly turned on his heel and started walking back towards their parked car. “Now we can get on to the real reason I brought you to Hokkaido.”
Chapter 22—Lend Me Your Ears
Erik checked the display on his digital alarm clock. One in the morning. Everybody should be asleep by now. He glanced at the layout map Daniel had given him. His objective was to get from his own room to the diviner’s office without being spied on
