"You don't seem happy, Little Father."
"I am not," said Chiun, taking a frilly yellow garment and tearing off long strips.
"I know you wanted to stay in America, working for Smith. I know you're not happy that I'm getting married, but couldn't you, just for today, pretend my happiness isn't a conspiracy against your well-being? For me?"
"For you, I will see that you are properly attired for your wedding. Is that not enough?"
"Okay," said Remo in a light voice. "Why don't you tell me about the wedding ritual? That pile of rags leads me to believe I'm not being prepared for a quickie civil ceremony. What do I do?"
"After you have properly dressed, you will go to the bride's house riding a suitable steed. There you will meet and drink wine, and promise devotion to your bride, and she to you. It is a simple ritual. Even a white could not mess it up."
"I can't drink wine, you know that. The alcohol would short-circuit my system."
"I take back my rash words. You may be the exception that proves the rule. Never mind, we will worry about that part when we get to it. Ah, this one is good. It matches your eyes."
"It looks like shit, color and texture."
"Yes, your eyes exactly," agreed Chiun, winding the cloth around Remo's forehead and tying it off so that it nearly obscured Remo's vision. He stepped back. "It is a beginning," he said, and with his long fingernails he loosened the seams of a pair of green trousers. "Put these on," he ordered.
Remo climbed into the green trousers.
"The cuffs barely cover my knees," Remo complained. "I look like some twerp whose idea of a day at the beach is to go wading up to his ankles."
"I will take care of that. Stand still!" And kneeling, Chiun wound strips of different-colored cloth around Remo's bare calves with furious motions.
"Not so tight, huh?" Remo pleaded.
"Now the jacket," said Chiun, offering Remo a tigerskin tunic.
Remo held it up. "Too small," he pronounced. "Try it."
Remo did. Without removing the T-shirt, he slipped his arms into the tigerskin jacket. It smelled of must. When he got it on, he tried to close it in front with loop-and-button fasteners.
"No, do not strain it," warned Chiun. "It is fine just like that."
Remo turned. Behind a tapestry was a gold-framed mirror. Remo swept the tapestry aside and looked at his reflection.
"No way," he said firmly. "I look like Elvis Presley as a bag lady. "
"I am sure her wedding garment was equally memorable," Chiun pronounced happily.
"I'm not going to be married dressed like this."
"If you would prefer to have a wedding vestment made specially for you, that could be arranged. But we would have to postpone the wedding two, perhaps three, weeks."
Remo considered. "Okay. But only because you might change your mind if I wait any longer. What's next?"
A timid knocking came from the outer door. "Enter," proclaimed Chiun.
A dirty-faced boy rushed up to the Master of Sinanju and tugged on his trousers. Chiun bent an ear and the boy whispered.
"Excellent, thank you," said Chiun, shooing the boy off.
"What's the secret word?" asked Remo when the boy was gone.
"I am informed that wedding guests have arrived."
"Must be your relatives. I don't have any."
"Do not be so certain," said Chiun.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that it is time for the wedding feast."
"Now? This early?"
"This early? This early?" said Chiun, his hazel eyes blazing. "For a year you have carped and complained, complained and kvetched, because you cannot get married. Now that the day has come, you recoil as from a serpent's tongue. We can call it off if that is your wish. I would be shamed forever, but it could be done."
"Now, I'm not trying to call it off, it's just . . . it's just..."
"Yes? "
"Well, after a year of your stalling, it seems strange that you're suddenly rushing me into this."
"Who is rushing?" said Chiun, pushing Remo out of the room. "Come, your steed awaits."
Remo, trailing loose strips of cloth, followed Chiun to the throne room of the House of the Masters. Outside, a bullock was uprooting stones with his nose.
"I thought you said a suitable steed," Remo said, looking at the bullock.
"Normally it is a pony," explained Chiun. "But if you mounted one of our delicate Korean ponies, you would break its spine. This is the next best thing."
Reluctantly Remo climbed onto the bullock's bowed back. The bullock moaned a low protest.
"I don't think he's used to being ridden," said Remo. "It is just a short ride. Now, sit still, and whatever you do, do not fall off."
"Tell that to the bullock."
And Chiun took up the azalea-garlanded rope and led the bullock down into the village, crying, "Come all, come all, the day of the wedding of Remo the Fair is at hand. Come to the house of Mah-Li."
"You sound like the town crier," Remo whispered, trying to keep his balance. He noticed that Chiun carried something under one arm. It was a wooden duck.
"Going duck hunting?" Remo asked.
"The duck is part of the ceremony. Among my people, the duck is venerated as a symbol of marital fidelity. Fidelity is very important in a marriage. We value it highly. "
"Thank you, Dr. Ruth."
Out of the peak-roofed houses of Sinanju, men, women, and children poured out in the bullock's wake. They laughed and danced and sang. Mostly they laughed, Remo noticed. And they pointed. At him.
"You know, Little Father," Remo whispered tersely, "if I didn't know better, I'd say they're all laughing at me."
"Who wouldn't laugh at a too-tall white man dressed like a ragamuffin and riding a bullock," said Chiun smugly.
"You're doing this on purpose," hissed Remo. "You're trying to make me a laughingstock. "
"No, you are a laughingstock. I did not make you." Remo almost lost his balance as the bullock picked its way down to the shore road, which led to the house of MahLi on the outskirts of the village.
"What's the deal here, Chiun? You're still jealous that the villagers are paying too much attention to me, so you dress me up like a clown to take me down a peg in their eyes. Honk if I'm getting warm."
"Would I do that to you, and on your wedding day?"
"You'd do it to me at my freaking funeral if it served your purposes."
"Hush," warned Chiun. "We are nearly to the house of your bride. Try to compose yourself. You have the pleasant expression of a pig stuck in a tree."
Remo took a deep breath. It felt hot in his throat. Here it is, he thought to himself, my wedding day and I look like Bozo the Clown. Behind him, the villagers of Sinanju formed a ragged noisy line like revelers at a Mardi Gras.
"Hold," said Chiun in a voice loud enough to carry into South Korea. The bullock snorted and stopped at the courtyard of Mah-Li's modest hut.
Two Sinanju maidens dressed in finery stood on either side of Mah-Li's door and bowed as Remo dismounted clumsily.
"What do I do now?" Remo whispered to Chiun.
"Go and bow to the table three times," he said. "And try not to trip over your big feet. "
"I'm nervous," Remo whispered, his heart pounding. The courtyard was decorated with long rice-paper strips on which Korean wishes of good fortune were marked in black ink. A wooden table stood in the middle of the courtyard. A bottle of wine had been placed between a plate of jujube fruit and an empty bowl.
Remo bowed three times before the table. "Now what?" he asked Chiun.
"Stand still. If that is possible."
Off to one side, Remo saw a stack of gold ingots. MahLi's dowry-a gift from Chiun. It was the final CURE payment made to Chiun, one year ago, by Harold Smith.
"Where is she?" asked Remo, looking around.
"Hush," said Chiun.
The two bridesmaids in blue-and-white kimonos opened the hut door. Mah-Li, attired i
n a splendid bridal costume of red silk, emerged from within. The bridemaids escorted her to the table and Mah-Li stood, her head bowed as if in shame.
The wedding party gathered around. Those who could not fit into the courtyard peered in from outside the little gate. There was some snickering among the solemn faces.
"Look at her, Chiun," Remo whispered. "She's ashamed of me. How could you do this to her?"
"Korean maidens always stand modestly before their husbands-to-be. It is our way. Now, go and stand with her." Remo went around the table and the bride lifted her face. Once again Remo felt that stab of desire in his stomach. The face staring back at him was radiant with a youthful innocence. Her dark eyes were haunting.
"Hello, kid," Remo breathed. "Long time no see." Remo was rewarded by a shy smile and downcast eyes. Officiously Chiun stepped up to the couple and waved the bridesmaids back. Taking a long strip of white cloth, he bound Remo's wrist to those of Mah-Li.
"I bind their hands, this man and this woman, to signify that they are forever united."
Chiun faced the audience, his hands raised as if in invocation. Remo noticed that his birdlike eyes searched the crowd worriedly.
"As the father of the groom, not by blood, but by ties of Sinanju, I hereby accept the dowry of Mah-Li," Chiun proclaimed gesturing to the stacks of gold ingots.
The old pirate, thought Remo. After all that, he ends up with Smith's gold anyway.
"Now all that remains is to join these two in wedlock," said Chiun, who Remo saw was up on tiptoe, trying to see over the heads of the wedding audience. Chiun's face wrinkled concernedly. "Now all that remains is to join these two in wedlock," he repeated in a louder voice. The crowd fidgeted. Chiun pressed on. "But first, I must speak of what it means to be married. Being a husband, like being a wife, means devotion to spouse. But unlike in certain barbarian countries, it requires more than a spouse to make a family. Or a happy marriage. Others should be considered. Especially the elder relatives of the married couple. Some people, in some lands," said Chiun, eyeing Remo closely, "think that marriage means leaving their families. Not in Korea. Not in Sinanju. Here, when a man takes his bride, both are welcomed into the groom's family, making for a larger, happier family. Let us not, because we see this day a new era dawning in our village, abandon the old for the new. "
"Pssst," hissed Remo. "I get the message, okay? Can we wind this up?"
"Cast the old for the tried and true," added Chiun, pleased that he had made part of his speech rhyme. His neck bobbed this way and that, scanning the stolid faces of the wedding party.
"By custom, the groom will spend the next three days here, in the bride's house," Chiun went on distractedly. "At the end of the third day, the newlyweds will be obligated to come and live in the house of the male line. Because the groom is from a foreign land and not one of us by birth, I will now ask him to agree to our honored custom. "
And Chiun turned to face Remo, grinning like a cat. "Yes," Remo said, brittle-voiced. Under his breath he added, "You always get your way, don't you?"
"Only when it counts," Chiun answered, turning his back on the bride and groom so that he again faced the wedding party. Remo saw his shoulders lift, a sure sign of a deep breath and the beginning of another long-winded oratory. Remo wondered if Chiun intended to stretch the ceremony over the whole three-day honeymoon.
Abruptly Chiun turned to face them again.
"I now ask the bride to say that she accepts the groom." Remo heard, for the first time since he had returned to Sinanju, Mah-Li's sweet voice whisper a breathy, "Yes."
"I now ask the groom," intoned Chiun, "if he accepts the maiden as his bride, today and forever."
"I do," said Remo.
Chiun faced the crowd one last time. He raised his hands so that the sleeves of his costume fell back, exposing spindly arms.
"I now ask those assembled here to witness this marriage. And before I pronounce them wed, I further ask if there is anyone present who objects to the joining of these two. "
The crowd gasped with one voice. Such a question had never before been asked at a Sinanju wedding. Was it some strange American custom? How were they to respond? The members of the wedding party looked at one another blankly.
And through the crowd, a tiny face pushed out from between the legs of Pullyang, causing the old village caretaker to cackle with surprise. Tiny brown eyes fixed on Remo Williams and widened suddenly.
"Daddy, Daddy!" a childish voice said, a smile breaking over a cherubic face.
Remo blinked. A tiny figure bundled in a blue snowsuit toddled up and wrapped stubby arms around his right leg. "What's this?" Remo asked awkwardly.
The Master of Sinanju hurled the wooden duck to the ground, causing its head to snap off. He clapped his hands once, sharply.
"There has been a mistake," he proclaimed. "This man is not pure. I declare this marriage invalid because the groom is not a virgin."
"Not a . . ." sputtered Remo. "Since when is that news? "
"The bride did not know," said Chiun. "Only one who is pure in mind and body may take a Sinanju maiden to wive. Remo, I am ashamed of you for leading her to believe otherwise when the proof of your unchaste behavior clings to your leg for all to see."
Remo turned. "Mah-Li, I don't know what this is all about," he said, anxiously. "Honest."
"You do not?" a woman's crisp voice asked from the crowd.
Remo's head snapped around. The voice. It was familiar. Standing at the front of the crowd, draped in a forest-green cloak, was a tall blond woman with coils of hair on either side of her face. Her eyes shone an angry green, and then darkened to a flat unfriendly gray.
"Jilda!" gasped Remo.
Chapter 25
It had all happened so fast that Remo Williams was paralyzed by surprise.
Jilda of Lakluun stood before him, throwing back her long cloak to reveal a Viking warrior costume of leather and chain mail. She wore a short dagger clipped to her belt.
"How?" Remo sputtered. "I mean, hi! Uh, what are you doing here?"
"Before you wed this woman," Jilda said frostily, "you should look upon your child. Then if it is your wish to wed, so be it. "
Remo looked down. Troubled brown eyes stared up at him. The child hugged Remo's leg tightly.
Remo looked up, his face stricken. "Mine?"
Jilda of Lakluun nodded severely. "Ours." Remo turned to his betrothed. "Mah-Li, I . . ."
But she was no longer standing there. Remo saw that the white strips of cloth that had bound their wrists together dangled loosely from his arm. And the door to Mah-Li's house slammed shut after a scarlet train of silk.
The Master of Sinanju stepped to Remo's side and lifted the child from Remo's leg. He faced the wedding audience, holding the child above his head with both hands:
"Do not feel sad, my people. For although no wedding will take place on this day, behold the son of my adopted son by the warrior woman Jilda of Lakluun!"
The people of Sinanju started to cheer. But the cheering died in their throats.
"White," they whispered. "It is white. Are no Koreans ever again to take responsibility for our little village?" Remo stepped in front of Chiun:
"You did this," he said. "You told Jilda about the wedding."
Chiun stepped around Remo so the audience could see the child, who stared wide-eyed and uncomprehending at the wedding party.
"Later," he hissed. "This is the crucial moment. The village must accept your son as Sinanju."
"What am I going to tell Mah-Li?" Remo said hotly.
"She will find another. Mah-Li is young; her heart is resilient. Now, be silent!" Again Chiun addressed the crowd. "You call this child white," he cried. "It is white-now. But within a year he will be less white. In five, you will not be able to tell him from a village child. And in twenty, he will be Sinanju in mind and body and soul."
"His eyes are round," a boy said.
"He will grow out of it," insisted Chiun. "Already the sun source
burns within him. After Master Chiun, there will be Master Remo. And after Master Remo, there will be this one, Master . . . What is his name?" he asked Jilda from the side of his mouth.
"Freya, daughter of Remo," Jilda said.
"Freya, daughter o-" Chiun's mouth froze on the open vowel.
The villagers broke into howling laughter. They pointed at the little girl and openly mocked Remo's tattered figure. Remo looked at Freya, at Jilda, and again at Freya. He mouthed the question: Daughter? Jilda nodded.
Abruptly the Master of Sinanju handed the child to her mother, his face bitter. He waded into the crowd.
"Away! Away with you all! What follows here is not for the ears of common villagers."
Reluctantly the village people started to drift off. Curiosity slowed their feet. But at an angry exhortation from Master Chiun, they broke and ran. The Master was beside himself with fury. They understood it was not safe to remain.
Chiun waited until the last flop of sandaled feet had faded from hearing. He faced Remo and Jilda.
"You tricked me!" Remo said.
"And me," added Jilda. "Your letter told me nothing about a wedding. Only that my presence was urgently required."
Chiun dismissed their complaints with flapping hands. "Trivia! I will not hear of it! Do you not realize what has happened here?"
"Yes," Remo said bitterly. "You ruined my life."
"Your life! Your life! What about mine? I am shamed. You are shamed. We are all shamed."
"What have I to feel shame for?" asked Jilda, patting Freya's head. Frightened by Chiun's strident voice, the little girl had buried her face in Jilda's shoulder.
"For this!" said Chiun, pulling back the hood of Freya's snowsuit. It came off like a golf-club cover, revealing hair like new gold.
Remo and Jilda looked at Chiun blankly.
Seeing their expressions, Chiun stamped a foot and spoke his shame aloud, which only made it worse. "A female. The firstborn of my adopted son, the next Master of Sinanju, is a lowly female."
"So what?" said Remo.
"Yes, so?" agreed Jilda.
Chiun pulled at the hair tufts over his ears in frustration. "So what! So what! She is useless. Masters of Sinanju have always been male."
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