Chapter One #2
Whatever was written was unintelligible to Max’s eyes.
From his place against the wall, he could see some of the thick, black strokes of Chinese characters.
They appeared like very beautiful, very ordered chicken scratch, though he’d learned to identify a few characters over the years.
The official spoke loudly in Chinese with unexpected bursts of volume in his already stentorian voice.
And when he was finished, every foreigner stomped his feet, first left then right, then both together before they clapped left fist into right palm and bowed before the prince.
It was an impressive sight. Max appreciated the colorful outfits and the attempt at discipline.
But it was merely an attempt. Even he could see that they weren’t true military.
The bearers wore similar loose black shirts and pants, but the styles weren’t identical.
Neither did the men stand straight while waiting, but slumped and shuffled their feet.
But they all wore impressive short swords and had the muscles to wield them.
It may look odd to him, but that was part of the fun.
After all, he was in a royal home witnessing something few westerners ever had and that alone made this moment exciting. Especially since they had yet to see who was inside the palanquin.
Meanwhile, Prinny rubbed his temples as he grumbled. “What did he just say?”
The captain bowed again, his smile appearing to fade a bit. “This is a delegation from the Wong cohong, Your Highness.”
“The what?”
“They’re a merchant family, your highness. Very important. They sell tea and silks to us and are part of the governing body that oversees exports.”
Prinny narrowed his eyes. “So they’re merchants, not the Chinese king.”
“Yes, your highness. Not the Chinese emperor, but still a powerful family. Very important to the Chinese trade. The Wong patriarch is on the governing body and works closely with the Hoppo.”
“The hippo?”
“Hoppo, Your Highness.”
Prinny held up a hand and glared balefully at Max. “Can you explain this?”
Yes, but it was complicated. “Hoppo is a title, like prince or…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. These gentlemen are here from a leading merchant family.”
The captain nodded. “The Wong cohong, my lord. They express their greeting and respect for the prince in, um, very complimentary terms. He impresses them with his health and prowess. His great power and wisdom.”
Doubtful. Prinny wasn’t impressing anyone right now with his sweat damp skin and his baleful eyes, but such was the language of diplomacy. And not surprisingly, Prinny wasn’t in the mood to accept such insincere worship.
“What does he want, Max?”
The captain turned to the official and spoke in quick Chinese. Even Max could hear how badly garbled his language was when compared to the Chinese official, but apparently the meaning got across.
The official declared something very loudly. It was shorter than the other statements and he punctuated it by snapping the edges of the scroll together before he gestured to the guards.
Max didn’t need the captain’s translation.
“He has gifts, your highness.”
“Well, bring them on,” Prinny groused, but Max could see the gleam of interest in the royal’s eye.
Two guards behind the palanquin gathered things from a basket in the back of the litter.
The first unrolled a bolt of bright yellow fabric, heavily embroidered.
He spread it out before the prince. The other man came forward with a lacquered box that he opened.
Inside were silk pouches filled with something aromatic.
Several somethings, no doubt, and Max’s nose twitched as he tried to sort through the scents.
“Silk, your highness,” intoned the captain. “The finest. Imperial tea, meant for kings and emperors. Tobacco as well.”
Prinny wrinkled his nose. “Not very much,” he groused.
“Bring it here.” A pair of footmen rushed to do the prince’s bidding, but Max could already see that the silk was of excellent quality.
Likely the tea and tobacco as well, though as bribes went, this was a rather pitiful showing.
Prinny seemed to agree, though he wasn’t disposed to liking anything right then.
In the end, he waved the gifts aside as he dropped his chin on his hand.
“Is that all?”
The captain cleared his throat. “Er, one more thing, your highness.”
The Chinese official started speaking again. His voice lowered into more lilting tones. His hands gestured expansively, and he dropped his head as if in awe. Then he paused with his head bowed and hands outstretched as he waited for the sea captain to translate.
“The Wong cohong offers your highness a gift most dear to the patriarch’s heart. A gift that demonstrates the level of his respect and begs you to appreciate the cost to his soul.”
“What is it?” Prinny grumbled. If only the Chinese had arrived later in the day. Normally, Prinny would love the pageantry of such a moment.
The captain turned back to the official.
He spoke in his thick Chinese with a quick kind of urgency.
The bowed official flushed red at the words, but he continued his performance.
He backed away from the palanquin. The two bearers walked to the windowed sides and put their hand to the curtains, but they stood still.
No one moved.
“Well?” Prinny pressed. “Why aren’t they opening it?”
“I think they’re waiting for the gong,” Max said.
The second official walked over to the footman and tried to take the gong, but the royal servant wouldn’t release it. It was an awkward tug-of-war until Prinny grunted.
“Oh, let him have it. Just don’t hit it hard.”
The footman released it, and the official turned, lifting the gong with a pompous gesture. He raised the mallet, but the captain was quick to speak in Chinese. Max guessed that the man said something like, not too loud! The prince has a headache!
With a grimace of annoyance, the official struck the gong—somewhat softly—and right on cue, the bearers ripped out the curtains.
They pulled the fabric away as if it were tissue paper.
And there, sitting with her head held high and all sorts of dangly things waving about her face, was a Chinese princess.
Or someone who looked very much like a princess.
Max narrowed his eyes, trying to sort face and form through the colorful make up.
Her face was powdered white, her lips bright red, and her eyes darkened with kohl.
She neither smiled nor looked around. Indeed, she might have been a statue except for the way a large quantity of red beads swung around her face.
Both officials stepped forward and extended an arm. The woman stood slowly as she stepped out of the palanquin. She moved with exquisite care and some awkwardness. Probably because she was tottering on odd sandals that raised her up an extra half foot.
Max was watching her face as she moved, as much as he could see through the swinging beads. Was she revolted by the prince? Was she anxious or frightened? What would it be like to travel all the way from China to be presented to a hungover prince in a dressing gown?
She walked in tiny, careful steps, so her exit from the palanquin was excruciatingly slow.
She was dressed in red silk with gold embroidery.
Her hands were hidden inside the massive sleeves, and her head was bowed.
She seemed a delicate creature, dwarfed by the weight of fabric, headdress, and the two officials hovering on either side of her.
Eventually she made it halfway to where the prince sat, then the official on her left lifted the gong and banged it again. Oh hell, that thing had to be thrown into the rubbish. Max’s temples throbbed every time the thing sounded, and Prinny couldn’t feel much better.
But before the prince could order the blasted thing away, the primary official started intoning grand Chinese words. Such ponderous weight he put to every syllable. Then he paused and looked at the captain.
“This is Wong Xiao Yihui, revered daughter of the Wong patriarch. She’s…uh, beautiful, smart…”
The official spoke more, his words lengthy while the captain clearly struggled to translate.
“Poetic. Godfearing. Um, has elegant hands?” He looked at his hands as if they held the answer. Then he smiled at the prince. “She’s got a good…um, healthy body for babies, I think. I don’t really know all his words, but she’s a prize, your highness, a very good woman.”
Prinny frowned as he looked at the people arrayed before him. “Yes, I see she’s a woman. Is she going to dance for me?”
“Um, no, your highness. She’s the gift, you see.” He twisted his hands together and bowed once before his next words. “They mean her to be your wife.”
Prinny stared. “My wife?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
To his credit, the prince did not react. Neither did anyone else until the room seemed to pound with the silence. And all Max could think was that his sister was going to laugh and laugh at this story when he told her tonight.
Finally, Prinny rolled his eyes. “Max, explain to them that I’m already married.”
“I think they know that, Your Highness,” Max said as he took another step forward.
He was trying to get a better look at the woman.
What did she think of being presented as a gift to the corpulent prince?
“It’s a common practice in China. Gifting women, that is, and taking multiple wives. I’m told the emperor has a thousand.”
Prinny gaped at him. “A thousand?”
The prince stared at the woman who did an acceptable job of not tottering on her bizarre footwear.
It was simple fantasy. Prinny couldn’t take another wife.
It was scandalous enough that he had a mistress everyone knew about.
Putting a random Chinese woman into his house could not happen, but it was clearly fun to imagine.
Didn’t every man have a Chinese princess fantasy?