The Imperial Wedding (6)
The palanquins that ordinary commoners used for their wedding ceremonies were smaller than one might expect.
In essence, it was a single-seat chair—room for exactly one occupant—with a pair of long wooden poles lashed to either side. In that state, of course, it might as well have been a convertible with the top down. Which was why some people, according to taste, draped the palanquin like a tent in red cloth, red being the color of good fortune. The thing existed, at its heart, solely so the groom's household could carry off one bride, so there had never been any reason to build it large. And besides—what fate do you suppose would befall a mere commoner caught parading around in a palanquin grander than those of the aristocratic classes? Wasn't this the sort of thing one used for the wedding alone and then shoved into some corner to gather dust? People of this era were not so foolish; the custom was to celebrate a marriage with only the spending that was truly necessary.
…Though the nobles I mentioned a moment ago did build their palanquins big—for the sole purpose of flaunting their authority.
So allow me to pose a question here. How luxurious, then, would the wedding palanquin of this land's sovereign—the Emperor—be?
…….
The details would vary from one sovereign to the next, but anyone could tell it would be no dainty little palanquin. An Emperor riding around in something small was not the sort of sight people would admire as frugality. Quite the opposite—other power-holders would sneer and ask whether the authority of the imperial house amounted to so little.
And what if that palanquin were the very one going out to receive its match? The common folk would show no reaction beyond reverent awe, but the high-born nobility would likely fly into a rage, crying that they were being slighted. And since an Emperor's match was almost always a political marriage, it would be entangled with those powerful noble families without fail.
…Of course, all of this assumed the Emperor personally hauled that weighty backside off the throne and went out to receive the betrothed. What subject in their right mind would dare tell the Emperor to go fetch a spouse in person? If such a subject actually existed, the Emperor would send their head flying on the spot, thinking, Does this wretch take Me for an underling?
That was why Emperors customarily skipped even this step and held the wedding ceremony directly within the imperial palace. It was for exactly this reason that I had questioned the earlier order to return to my residence. The Emperor was meant to reign above the nation and stand alone at its summit—not to come bounding out merrily to greet anyone. If it were otherwise, why bother with the trouble of sending someone ahead? One might as well go and meet them in person.
But then, what did it signify that the Emperor had come out in person to welcome me—and had even stood waiting until her betrothed arrived?
Her Majesty, my hand clasped tight in her slender fingers, spoke.
"It was a course of action We agonized over in Our own way."
"Your Majesty?"
The Emperor's words continued on.
"Perhaps Our zeal ran a touch excessive, but the wedding preparations were finished far earlier than We had first anticipated."
…….
"All that remained for Us was to count down the days and wait."
The Emperor murmured in a voice as wistful as a child's with a piece of candy set just out of reach.
"But We found Our body would not stay still. Waiting was simply beyond Us."
I held my silence and listened with due care.
"And from there, Our worries naturally deepened."
…….
"For if We moved the date forward on Our own authority, someone was bound to take offense."
I answered with perfect courtesy.
"Who would dare harbor such a grievance?"
The Emperor smiled at me and replied playfully.
"Are they not surfacing in your head this very moment?"
…….
Struck squarely on the mark, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut.
"…Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Just because."
"What's that supposed to—"
The violet-haired strategist who, even in the original history, had turned the entire state on its head through the Incident at the Gaoping Tombs. From my long observation of her, Sima Yi was, no matter how I looked at it, not a woman who attached any meaning to the intangible ideal called Han. To put it bluntly, one might say she had a touch of the sociopath about her. She was, quite literally, the textbook specimen of a cold-blooded strategist.
"I told you not to pat my head—it ruins my hair…!"
…Or was that not it?
In any case, whenever the pint-sized strategist with the purple hair decided I had been slighted, she would rage on my behalf as though the insult were her own affair. Truly a kindness.
"Honestly… you are unbelievable."
Knowing her, she had probably spat out words to that effect sometime after I left my post today. The Sima Yi I knew was more than capable of it.
"My lord. I have seen to every task you entrusted to me."
"Already?"
"If I complained of fatigue over this much, how could I ever hope to serve you properly?"
And then there was the white-haired strategist, whose administrative genius had lately left even Sima Yi a move behind. Zhuge Liang, too, was a slightly ambiguous case.
In the original history, Zhuge Liang had certainly presented herself as devoted to the Han dynasty, professing to carry on its lineage. But when you got right down to it, wasn't that loyalty owed to Liu Bei—the one person who had sought her out through the Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage and raised her up? In the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, she even went so far as to openly counsel Liu Bei to take the imperial throne. And when Liu Bei kept declining, it was Zhuge Liang who negotiated her down to the compromise of "then how about King of Hanzhong?"
Later, when Cao Pi accepted the "abdication" from Emperor Xian and ascended the throne, Zhuge Liang had raced to Liu Bei as though she had been waiting for precisely that moment, urging her once more to become Emperor. And when Liu Bei refused yet again, Zhuge Liang eventually resorted to outright trickery, taking to her bed and feigning illness.
Now, what was it she had said?
"Since my lord will not ascend the throne, I fear for what may become of the realm—and it seems I have fallen ill from the worry?"
That was roughly how I remembered it. And the moment Liu Bei said, "Very well—now hurry and recover," Zhuge Liang sprang bolt upright from her sickbed and bowed to the floor alongside the assembled civil and military officials. A thoroughly delightful sight.
That anecdote was an invention of the Romance, but the fact that Zhuge Liang urged Liu Bei toward the throne is recorded even in the Book of Shu, in the Biography of Zhuge Liang. In other words, even in the official histories, Zhuge Liang told Liu Bei to become Emperor. Had Liu Bei borne a different surname, I half suspect Zhuge Liang would have dug up some other precedent and pressed her toward the throne all the same.
"How about it?" The Emperor asked me then. "Can you truly swear that the talents who follow you harbor not the slightest grievance toward Us?"
"That is…"
Even after only a moment's thought, names of exactly that caliber had come to mind. How was I supposed to nod along to that?
"Even had We not done this, the General-in-Chief would doubtless have smoothed matters over with them himself. Still, there is no sense in manufacturing pointless grievances, is there?"
Having said her piece, the Emperor began brushing the dust from my clothes right there before everyone's eyes. The dust that shook loose from my garments swirled this way and that, smearing itself across the Emperor's beautifully fresh attire.
I blurted out, startled.
"Your Majesty, there is no need to go to such lengths—"
"Hold still."
I had knelt on the bare ground a short while ago in a show of courtesy to Her Majesty, and dust clung to me here and there, but the Emperor showed not the faintest sign of minding it.
"Hmm… so brushing by hand has its limits after all."
…….
"Well, no matter. If anything, I find myself pleased that we seem to match now."
The black dragon robe said to embody the Emperor of Han. A garment that looked priceless at a glance had already been reduced to a shabby spectacle, dust clinging to it everywhere. I stared at the Emperor's robes, their hems still dragging across the dirt. Like I kept saying—that was not an outfit meant for the outdoors. At the very least she might have had it taken in, but Her Majesty seemed perfectly content with things as they stood.
Catching my expression, the Emperor flashed a grin.
"Does Our appearance trouble you so?"
"Yes. I would humbly suggest returning to the palace at the earliest possible moment."
"Heh. If you put it that way, I suppose there is no helping it."
The Emperor said to me:
"It seems We are destined to live captive to you."
"…Your Majesty."
Even as I called out in a troubled voice, all too aware of the eyes around us, the Emperor merely smiled, serene as ever. The attendants in her train were already wearing expressions that defied description.
Then the Emperor abruptly pulled me into an embrace and whispered.
"Hold Us tight, and do not let go."
…….
Whether her own staff was struck dumb with shock or not, the Emperor could not have cared less.
"We have tarried quite long enough. Let us begin."
Taking my hand, the Emperor drew me slowly along.
"This is the day We have awaited for so long."
A palanquin so vast it would have taken a double-digit crew of strapping men to carry it. The Emperor and I climbed aboard, just the two of us. No sooner had we settled into our seats than the palanquin was hoisted high, and the Emperor said to me with a smile:
"Hwahyeon."
"You called, Your Majesty?"
"Let us take our sweet time and enjoy ourselves."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I gazed out at the civil and military officials attending the Emperor and the ranks upon ranks of imperial guards marching in flawless file.
"U-um… General?"
"What."
"If you keep looking so… thuggish, the mood around here will…"
"Don't like it? Come at me, then."
…….
Lü Bu, escorting the procession while radiating displeasure from every pore, drew every eye whether anyone wanted it or not.
"…Gah!"
…….
"I-I'm so sorry!"
As for Seo Yeo—let it simply be said that no one could get anywhere near her. She looked absolutely livid.
And so the Emperor's wedding began, with startling suddenness.