Chapter 10: Nagoya Castle
Nagoya Castle was a flat mountain castle, built on hills. It wasn’t as beautiful as the famous Japanese Warring States castles known later. Its foundation was stone and wood, its walls were earth, and its white plaster was mottled with age, making it look somewhat dilapidated. It also lacked the beautiful tenshu-kaku seen in later Japanese landscape pictures. Overall, it was unremarkable, showing no hint of its future status as a vital stronghold in the Guanzhong region of Japan.
Fortunately, Owari Province was a crucial transportation hub in the Medieval Period of Japan, serving as an important land route connecting Kyoto, Sakai, Shimazu, Atsuta, and Suruga. This route was prosperous in commerce and culture, representing the easiest, shortest, and safest land path.
Therefore, even though Owari Province itself had few famous special products, with only pottery and folk weaving being slightly better, Nagoya Castle was still very prosperous. The market town covered a considerable area, with many shops and travelers.
The streets were paved with gravel, and people in the shops facing the street would occasionally sprinkle water with wooden ladles to prevent dust. The commercial environment was decent.
The buildings were largely similar to farmhouses, all being post-and-beam structures built on flat ground, consisting of an earthen floor room (doma) and an earthen seat area (doza). However, the doza was much more refined than in farmhouses, mostly paved with wooden floors, and a few even had proper tatami mats woven from rush with patterns.
The doma faced the road and served as the business area. Typically, the wooden shutters of the doma would be lowered outwards to act as a counter, displaying samples to attract customers or featuring goods with nameplates and prices. If a customer was interested, they would enter the doma to examine the goods closely. The shopkeeper or employee would then enthusiastically serve them, and major clients would be invited into the doza for tea.
The prosperity of commerce was even better than Yuan Ye had anticipated.
He casually observed the “shop names” and banners on the shops along the way. He saw the Whale House, which dealt in flesh and pleasure, also serving as a bar and having a small casino. He also saw bathhouses advertising “Kyoto Stone Steaming” and “Steam Bathing for Recovery.” Ordinary shops like rice shops, blacksmiths, weaving shops, and restaurants were numerous. Along the roadside, there were also many street performers—monkey trainers, storytellers, cockfight gamblers, dancers, and puppeteers, making it very lively.
He even saw a public toilet, which, by this alone, was at least five hundred years ahead of India.
As Yuan Ye walked through the market town, he felt as if he were seeing a scene from the Song Dynasty. If it weren’t for the fact that most of the people walking around were short, stout men, it would truly have felt like a replica of a Song Dynasty town market from a book.
However, Japan had been diligently absorbing the essence of Chinese culture since the Sui and Tang Dynasties, so this scene was not surprising.
Yuan Ye roughly toured the market town, putting aside his nostalgic thoughts, and began to attend to his own business. He had come to sell some things and first solve his immediate food problem, so as to prevent the Yayoi Family from going bankrupt. But he wasn’t in a hurry, and his attention quickly turned to prices—if he wanted to sell something, he had to bargain; he couldn’t just spout nonsense.
Copper coins were used here, and over eighty percent of them were Chinese copper coins.
Among them, the Eiraku coins from the Ming Dynasty were the most useful. Next were Song and Tang coins, and other Ming coins in good condition. Following that were Quanzhou coins, a general term for imported privately minted coins. Further down were Japanese copper coins of unknown origin, and finally, tin coins and iron coins whose material was difficult to discern.
The first two were generally called “good money,” while the rest were “bad money.” As for the exchange rate…
Based on Yuan Ye’s observations and indirect inquiries, one thousand copper coins of “good money” equaled one official kan (also called a full kan, not generally used in civilian transactions). Eight hundred and forty coins equaled one market kan (a non-fixed value, subject to market fluctuations, pegged to silver prices). One hundred coins equaled one piki, which could be exchanged for three to four times the amount of “bad money.”
If it was “bad money” among “bad money,” such as tin or iron coins that could be broken with a little force, it could conservatively be exchanged for six or seven or eight times the amount.
He didn’t see anyone using silver or gold, likely because they were large denominations and not commonly used in daily transactions. However, they could be exchanged. He found a “Ginza” at the end of a street where customers could exchange silver ingots, gold ingots, or gold dust for various copper coins, but not the other way around. He wasn’t sure if this counted as an ancient bank.
The exchange rate was roughly that one tael of gold could be exchanged for 40-50 coins of silver, depending on the purity. One tael of silver could be exchanged for about 840 copper coins of Eiraku, which was approximately one market kan, still depending on purity. Inferior silver would certainly not fetch 840 coins.
As for prices…
Using Eiraku coins as a standard, the price of one *koku* of unpolished rice at a rice shop was 806 coins. One *koku* of polished rice was 1 kan and 220 coins. The price of one *koku* of beans varied by type: 450 coins for black beans, 490 coins for soybeans, 550 coins for green beans, and 700 coins for red beans.
Buckwheat was cheaper, with one *koku* priced similarly to black beans and soybeans, mostly between 400 and 500 coins depending on quality. Old coarse wheat mixed with bran and sand was even cheaper, costing just over 300 coins for one *koku*.
As for how much one *koku* was, the *shi* here was a unit of volume, originally referring to a container for grain.
In ancient times, precise weighing was very difficult, especially in rural areas. Therefore, ancient Chinese people habitually used volume instead of weight. They would chisel stone according to dimensions, and filling it counted as one *shi*. The Han Dynasty’s “rank of two thousand *shi*” originated from this.
As for why it is now read as *dan*, that is because of Zhu Yuanzhang.
He was from Fengyang, and in the Fengyang dialect, “shi” sounds like “dan.” He pronounced this character as “dan.” It is likely that his subordinates dared not say, “Your Majesty, what nonsense are you spouting? As the Son of Heaven, you should speak the refined language. Do you still consider yourself a peasant?” lest they prematurely enjoy the flaying and stuffing treatment. Thus, after Hongwu, this character has been read as “dan.”
Putting aside the digression, Japan also adopted the Chinese character “stone” as a unit of volume since ancient times, but the volume size was changed, and it was changed multiple times. Now, in the late Muromachi Shogunate period, Yuan Ye estimated by hand that one *koku* was roughly equivalent to a little over 120 kilograms in modern terms, a considerable weight that would be difficult for one person to move.
Of course, the weight is not very accurate. 1 *koku* = 10 *to*, 1 *to* = 10 *sho*, 1 *sho* = 10 *go*. He estimated the weight of one *to* and one *sho*. The feel of it could only be said to be roughly the same.
However, it should be about right. He remembered that according to information he saw at the Nagoya City Museum, the daily rations for an Ashigaru in the Japanese Warring States period were generally 5 *go* of unpolished rice. That means 1 *go* is over 120 grams, and 5 *go* is equivalent to over 600 grams in modern terms, more than a pound of staple food, which should ensure a certain level of physical ability. Rice becomes more voluminous and heavier when cooked, especially since rice was typically cooked by draining in Japan at this time. The portion size would only be heavier. Moreover, Ashigaru did not just eat rice; they were also issued miso, pickles, dried radish, dried taro, and miso, and would also forage for supplementary foods like chickens and ducks during marches. They could barely eat their fill.
Furthermore, 5 *go* was the ration for daily training. During wartime, rice issued was 10 *go* per day, sometimes with sake and various supplementary foods.
Calculating this way, over two *koku* of rice per year would be enough for him to eat, ensuring basic survival. Adding one sick person, that would be four *koku* of rice. So, as long as he could get over three kan of Eiraku coins, he would be temporarily worry-free?
To live with a bit more quality, at most doubling that, about six or seven kan of money would be enough to eat for a year?
It was simpler than he had imagined…
From playing Taikou Risshiden 2, Yuan Ye used to think that one needed to pull out a thousand kan or so to be considered having money.
He felt a slight relief and walked out again under the strange gaze of the rice shop employee. He then looked at the roadside stalls. Some were traveling merchants selling needles, thread, and scraps of cloth. Others were villagers, hunters, and fishermen from nearby, selling mountain produce and aquatic products.
Crucian carp and loaches were 1 coin for two. Carp about the length of a forearm were around 10 coins. A tattered wolf pelt was 150 coins. A large bird of unidentifiable species was sold for 15 coins (its feathers had been plucked and were sold separately). A small bamboo basket of dried mushrooms was 25 coins, and it came with a large piece of dried bamboo shoot.
Hmm, dried bamboo shoots from this season, likely last year’s stock?
There were also miscellaneous items from traveling merchants.
Various needles and threads were around 10 coins. Bamboo tube fire starters for lighting were 5 coins (a small hole was drilled on the side of the bamboo tube, containing coarse paper, cotton wadding, and sulfur. When lit, it could smolder for one to two days with the lid on, and would ignite with a puff of air). Copper ear picks were also 5 coins, as were other strange and unusual items.
For example, headscarves woven from ramie stems shaped like roofs, conical hats with veils woven from thin bamboo strips, straw boots woven from straw shaped like boots, four-buckle straw sandals, six-buckle straw sandals, lucky-buckle straw sandals, straw sandals without buckles or flaps that resembled socks, *Ota* with thick and high soles woven from coarse straw ropes, short straw sandals *Sokuhan* with no heels woven from fine straw, and straw rope wooden clogs, etc. Most of these were priced between 5 and 20 coins.
In addition to these peculiar daily necessities, there were also small accessories and trinkets such as silver-plated copper bracelets, silver-plated copper magatama, *kiriko* beads, copper hairpins, wooden hairpins, and wooden hair clasps, usually priced between ten-odd coins and over a hundred coins. There was even a set of wooden combs, several large and small, placed in a lacquered box, carved with patterns of the Seven Lucky Gods. They could be used as *kushi* for hair or for daily grooming. The entire set cost 350 coins.
Furthermore, Yuan Ye discovered a complete set of tools for dyeing teeth: a copper bowl, a copper pot for boiling the dye, a copper box for *fushi* (a box for *fushi* ink), and a copper basin for rinsing the mouth. The set had a unified pattern, was lightweight and elegant, and appeared to be an antique, priced at five kan. However, the seller looked like an old farmer, and Yuan Ye suspected it might be stolen goods or burial items.
The horse market was not within the market town. It was said that for some reason, the castle lord had ordered it moved. However, when Yuan Ye casually asked, a stall owner told him that a common packhorse, depending on its teeth, would cost about two kan at best, which was roughly equivalent to the entire annual income of an ordinary follower—if he were an orphan with no wife or children, and could sell all the rations provided by his family head, he could buy a common packhorse after a year of work.
Packhorses were quite cheap. As for warhorses and famous horses, it was another matter, ranging from over ten kan to tens or hundreds of kan. Ordinary people shouldn’t think too much about it.
Yuan Ye had a good grasp of the current prices and determined his bottom line. Then, he found a “Tu Cang” (earthen warehouse) and went inside.
