Chapter 24
Remo Williams awoke to the sound of impatient clapping. "Up, up, lazy one," barked the Master of Sinanju. "Would you sleep through your wedding day?"
"Oww, not so close to my ear, okay, Chiun? I'd like to be able to hear the ceremony." Remo sat up on his sleeping mat, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The Master of Sinanju stood dressed in a flowing white jacket over white cotton trousers. He wore a black stovepipe hat on his nearly hairless head. It was tied under his chin with string.
"What are you supposed to be?" Remo asked, getting up.
"The father of the groom," snapped Chiun, turning to rummage through a pile of clothes heaped on a tatami mat. "But perhaps if I stand in the back during the ceremony, no one will recognize me."
"Very funny," said Remo. "What's that stuff?"
"Your wedding garments."
"There's enough cloth in this pile to outfit the Bolshoi Ballet. I can't wear all that."
"These are the wedding vestments of past Masters," said Chiun, holding up a green-and-blue costume that might have suited a geisha girl. "We must find one that will fit you."
"This isn't exactly my style," commented Remo, examining the cloth. It was pure silk.
"You have no style. But with the proper garments that sad fact might go unnoticed long enough for you to get through the ceremony. Ah, here is a worthy one."
Remo took the offered garment.
"Very colorful," he said dryly. "In fact, I don't think there's a single color in existence not on this thing. Hmmm, wait a minute, I don't see puke yellow. Oh, here it is, in the shape of a cat. See? Under the left armpit."
"That is a badger," snapped Chiun, ripping the cloth from Remo's hand and tossing it onto a second pile. "And you are obviously not worthy to dress in the garment I wore at my wedding."
"That was yours?" said Remo, dumbfounded.
"Try this one. It belonged to Master Ku. "
"I've never looked right in snakeskin," protested Remo. "Besides, this would just about fit a midget if he didn't button it."
"That is exactly the problem," said Chiun, throwing the garment of the Master Ku onto the second pile. "All past Masters of Sinanju have been properly sized. You, on the other hand, are a big clod-footed freak. None of these will fit you."
"How about if I go as I am?" suggested Remo, spreading his arms.
Chiun looked Remo up and down. Remo was dressed in the white T-shirt and black slacks he'd worn to Sinanju. Chiun made a sour face.
"I will work something out," he said, returning to the piles of clothes.
Remo, seeing that this was going to take some time, assumed a lotus position in the middle of the floor and cupped his chin in his hands.
"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.