The Tailor and the Prince

by Pelaam

  It rose majestically above the surrounding foliage in white and pink. Bertie sat and stared as more came into view. The palace was as much a castle for defense as a home for the prince. It’s keep, known as a tenshukaku, rose five stories tall, and was linked to several smaller buildings of two or three stories.

  Interestingly, Bertie’s father had told him that the palace layout as perceived from outside rarely corresponded to the actual internal layout to purposely confuse attackers. The tactic prevented them from knowing which story or which window to attack, as well as disorienting the enemy once inside.

  The keep was defended by walls and towers, but its ornamental role was never ignored. Not only was the keep meant to be impressive in size implying military might, but also in their beauty as a reflection of the prince’s wealth and good taste.

  More of the palace came into view and Bertie marveled at its beauty. Palisades lined the top of the castle’s walls, and pine trees, symbols of eternity or immortality, were also visible. A variety of towers or turrets, yagura at the corners of the walls and over the gates, were used not only for defensive purposes, but for moon-viewing. According to Bertie’s father, in the prince’s palace, there were towers for moon-viewing, balconies for taking in the scenery, tea rooms, and extensive gardens.

  “Quite magnificent,” he murmured aloud to no one in particular.

  “It is. The prince is very proud of its beauty. He is … progressive in his ideas. He welcomes new ways. He’s very much looking forward to meeting you and your colleague. The prince wants to trade more with the people of the west. This, for him, is just the start.”

  “I see.” Bertie sighed. “This is truly beautiful. He’s a lucky man to live here.”

  “Perhaps so.” Makoto stared ahead, not even glancing at Bertie who looked up at him, surprised by the comment. When Makoto failed to speak again, Bertie focused on the peace of the river and the beauty of the riverside they passed, occasionally glancing at the palace that grew ever closer.

  Chapter Nine

  As the yakatabune approached a jetty, Bertie was almost disappointed that the ride was over. But there was the palace to come next, and at that thought, excitement surged through Bertie’s veins. He and the others followed Makoto onto the jetty, and the captain conversed swiftly with a soldier.

  “The prince has been informed of your arrival.” Before Makoto could say more, his attention was diverted by the appearance of a palace courtesan.

  “Captain Makoto. A moment, if you please.” This woman’s face was even more dramatically painted than the airship port’s receptionist. Large jeweled combs adorned her hair, and she held a large fan in one hand and a parasol in the other.

  Unable to do anything else, Bertie waited while the soldier and the geisha spoke rapidly together. Finally, the soldier nodded.

  “Please follow Cherry Blossom. The prince is resting before the official meeting later this afternoon. You will be shown your rooms where you can bathe and rest.” Makoto bowed stiffly, turned on his heel, and marched swiftly away before Bertie could argue.

  “He’s a bit sharp.” Tom sniffed loudly. “Bertie, what about Hayate? That balloon and basket were badly damaged, Hayate can’t fly home.”

  “If the palace will allow me to bring them into the grounds, and grant me access to a workshop, I could work on them, Bertie-san. Please?” From Tom’s side, Hayate looked at Bertie with such a pleading expression that there was little Bertie could do but nod.

  “Well, I don’t see any reason why I can’t petition the prince for you.” Bertie sighed and rubbed at his temples. He could hardly have refused Hayate. Without him and his balloon, the mission would have been ended before it had truly begun.

  “Thank you, sir.” Hayate bowed. “You are a very generous man.”

  “Yes, indeed. Thanks, Bertie.” Tom nodded.

  “You’re well liked. Very commendable, sir.” Cherry Blossom, flicked her fan, fanning herself dramatically, and peered over it at Bertie. “Follow me.”

  There was no choice but to walk with excessive slowness. For each single stride Bertie took, he was sure Cherry Blossom took at least six tiny shuffling steps. The stares they received from guards and courtiers as they passed through the palace didn’t go unnoticed either. Bertie was certain they couldn’t possibly have seen such a strange procession before.

  “We have had only a few visitors from other lands, sir.” Cherry Blossom glanced back at Bertie. “Plus, you are dressed differently from such visitors. Ignore them.”

  “The clothes we were left with were so dirty from us being tied up and left on a damp floor by our attackers, we couldn’t wear them again. These were provided by the station as part of their recompense for our ordeal.”

  “Attackers?” Cherry Blossom stopped, her voice suddenly changing, the breathy, sing-song quality vanishing. “You were attacked? By who?”

  “Well, I told the station it was robbers. But competition for the prince’s favor is very fierce.” Bertie couldn’t openly accuse his rival, but somehow felt it was important not to lie to Cherry Blossom.

  The courtesan tapped her fan against her chin as she stared Bertie. Bertie met the gaze squarely. He had nothing to hide. Slowly, a smile curved Cherry Blossom’s bright red lips, and she nodded.

  “Yes. I believe there was indeed much rivalry to be the chosen representative. The prince and his senior advisor narrowed the choice to two. But they didn’t agree on who should be the outright winner. They rarely agree on anything. Takeshi-sama is very old fashioned in his ideas. Not progressive at all. That he even considered a foreign company worthy to have our silk seemed out of character.”

  “I see.” Bertie got the distinct impression he was being warned. Bertie remembered that his father said that the prince preferred their company, which possibly meant Cherry Blossom was probably hinting that Takeshi preferred Lalleyman and Willis. If that was so, he may not take kindly to hearing allegations that Bertie couldn’t support.

  “I will tell the prince what happened to you. But I should stick to your story about robbers in public, if I were you.” Cherry Blossom’s voice resumed its sing-song quality. “This way.”

  “Yes. I will. Thank you.” Bertie nodded, pleased that he seemed to have an ally in the palace.

  ****

  The rooms he and Tom were led to were in fact suites of rooms, and quite magnificent. Cherry Blossom cocked her head from side to side as she spoke rapidly to Hayate who shook his head repeatedly.

  “Please, Tom-san. I don’t wish a room of my own. Let me sleep on the floor in yours.” Hayate tugged at Tom’s sleeve.

  “I don’t mind, Bertie. I’m happy to share. There’s far more space than I need.” Tom shrugged his shoulders.

  “Could another bed be set up in Tom’s quarters?” Bertie asked. “Without Hayate, we wouldn’t be here, and he can’t return home until he completes repairs on his balloon.”

  “I’ll arrange for a comfortable pallet to be brought through for you to sleep on. If you won’t accept a room of your own, then at least you can sleep in comfort.” Cherry Blossom smiled. “Well, if you need anything, please pull the sash. A servant will attend you. If you wish to stretch your legs, please ask to be escorted into the gardens, or confine yourselves to the hallway outside. Please don’t wander around unsupervised.” The geisha bowed, then shuffled from the room.

  “I could do with a bath and a rest.” Tom stretched and yawned. “What about you, Bertie?”

  “Probably the same. Keep the carpetbag with you. Just in case I decide to walk a little.” Bertie passed the bag to Tom. “I don’t want the bag left unattended until I can present the contents to the prince.”

  “Of course. I won’t be leaving my rooms. Come on, Hayate. Let’s see where we can put this bed when it comes.”

  With a smile, Bertie left the two men to it, and went into his own suite. After half an hour, Bertie finally decided he wasn’t going to be able to settle as he’d feared, and he left his rooms.
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  Although it had only been Bertie’s intention to walk to the end of the magnificent hallway and admire the indoor pond with its fountain, he thought he could hear soft music. His curiosity piqued; Bertie followed the sound.

  A few moments later, and Bertie realized he was completely lost. But he was sure he was closing in on the talented musician. Rounding another corner, Bertie stopped and stared at the sight before him.

  The musician played in a small room decorated with blue and green mosaics, and lighter blue furniture. His hair, poker-straight and black as jet, reached down to the small of his back, with a sheen like silk. His kimono complemented the colors of the mosaics, and, although his body was angled away from Bertie, one smooth, lean leg was visible where the kimono had slid aside.

  The musician visibly jumped as he glanced up and saw Bertie in the doorway.

  “Who are you? How did you get here?” Although his English was accented, it was also impeccable, and Bertie held out his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

  “I’m so very sorry to have startled you. But your music was so beautiful. It led me here. My name’s Bertie … um, Mr. Bertram Blackwood.”

  “You saw no one in the hallway, Blackwood-san?” The musician cocked his head. “No one at all?”

  “It all seemed rather deserted.” Bertie shrugged and smiled, then his eyes widened. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. Are you expecting someone? I’ll leave, Oh, but there is a problem.”

  The musician relaxed, returning Bertie’s smile.

  “No. I’m not expecting anybody. What problem?”

  “I … um, have no idea how to get back to my room.” Bertie wished he didn’t appear to be a complete idiot. He would have preferred to have made a good impression on the other man. But the musician’s smile only widened.

  “The palace is very large. I’m sure even some of the courtiers here get lost on occasion. You really liked my music, Blackwood-san?”

  “Bertie, please, and yes, very much indeed. So different to anything I’ve heard back in England.”

  “Then allow me to play for you, Bertie. Do please sit.” The musician indicated a low pallet opposite him, and Bertie took great care to sit with grace and dignity. But all worries evaporated as he lost himself in the music. He was disappointed when the musician stopped and put down the koto.

  “I’ve never been outside of Japan. Or even the province. What’s England like? I’ve seen pictures of forests and fields. It looked very beautiful.”

  “Well, yes, the countryside is very beautiful. But we have lots of cities, too, with lots of factories, and crowded streets. From the little I’ve seen of the palace and its grounds, this is very beautiful, too.”

  Bertie blinked, unsure of what he’d said that was so wrong. The musician’s laughter was as brittle as it was unexpected.

  “Have I offended you?”

  “No. But sometimes, no matter how much it is gilded, a cage is still a cage.”

  A flush of indignant righteousness suffused Bertie.

  “Does the prince keep you here against your will?”

  This time the musician’s laughter was soft and melodic, and he shook his head.

  “No. The prince does not.”

  “Oh! Excuse me. I didn’t realize you were … entertaining.” Cherry Blossom stood in the doorway, her gaze flitting from the musician to Bertie and back again, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

  “Bertie heard my music. There was no one to assist him when he wandered away from his rooms and was lost.”

  “Look, if I’ve done anything that would cause the price to be angry with … with…” Bertie faltered and looked at the musician. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “You may call me … Ichi-chan. But only when we are alone, or in Cherry Blossom’s presence. It’s not a name to use in public.”

  “I shall remember, Ichi-chan.” Bertie stood a little taller, proud to be trusted. “As I was saying, the fault is all mine and I do not want to risk the wrath of the prince falling upon Ichi-chan.”

  “You hardly know me, yet you seek to protect me.” Ichi-chan smiled. “You are a man of great honor, Bertie.”

  “Yes, well, thank you.” Bertie coughed, his cheeks heating.

  “Cherry Blossom will guide you back you your suite. If anyone asks, you were invited here. No one will question you beyond that.”

  “If they do, threaten to report them to the prince.” Cherry Blossom touched Bertie’s arm with her ever-present fan. “I assure you that will stop them in their tracks.”

  “I look forward to our next meeting, Bertie.” Ichi-chan rose gracefully to his feet and bowed.

  “As do I, Ichi-chan. Do please lead on, Cherry Blossom.” Bertie returned the bow, before indicating for the geisha to proceed him.

  This time, Bertie barely noticed the geisha’s shuffling walk as they hurried back along the hallways. This time, at the end of Ichi-chan’s hallway, they passed a couple of guards Bertie hadn’t seen when wandering earlier. They scowled, but Cherry Blossom just snapped her fan at them, and the men remained silent.

  Bertie hardly gave the action consideration. At forefront in Bertie’s mind was the thought that Ichi-chan anticipated seeing him again, which gave him a warm feeling. Absently, Bertie patted his dragon charm. The charm itself felt warm to the touch, obviously picking up his own body heat.

  “Your suite is down there, Bertie-san.” Cherry Blossom pointed with her fan.

  “Ichi-chan won’t get into trouble, will he? It wasn’t his fault that I went wandering.” Bertie was worried about the musician. Unlike his father, Bertie hadn’t met the prince and wasn’t sure what kind of man he was. Bertie didn’t want Ichi-chan punished for something he’d done wrong.

  “You are indeed a very honorable man, Bertie-san.” Cherry Blossom peered at him intently, then smiled. “Don’t worry. The prince will not be angry. With either of you.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear it. Well, thank you, Cherry Blossom.” Bertie gave the geisha a bow, and she chuckled, the laughter unexpectedly deep.

  “Until we meet again, Bertie-san.” Cherry Blossom bowed, and Bertie returned the gesture.

  As he headed back toward his suite, Bertie hoped the geisha was right.

  Chapter Ten

  The rest of Bertie’s day passed in an unhurried and relaxing mix of bathing, drinking tea, eating, and resting. The servants sent to attend Bertie assured him that the prince was hosting a banquet to welcome his guests that evening, and for him to rest and take advantage of the prince’s hospitality.

  As the time approached, Bertie was joined by Tom and Hayate. Although Hayate was vocally insisting he be left in the room.

  “I’m not a guest of the prince. I cannot come to the banquet, Bertie-san.” Hayate shook his head, his woebegone expression also held a hint of fear and regret.

  “You are now part of my party, Hayate. I expect Tom to be at my side, and I’m sure Tom wants you at his. If anyone questions you, we shall tell them you’re my … my inventor. If you start talking about airships, engines, and cogs, I’m sure they’ll quickly leave you to it.”

  “I know I would.” Tom grinned, winked, and gently jostled Hayate who looked at him, and finally nodded.

  “Very well. Since you both insist.”

  A tap to the door ended the discussion as Makoto called out.

  “The prince is ready to meet you.”

  “On our way.” Bertie shouted and then took hold of Hayate’s arms. “Stay close to Tom. I shall do the talking, but you’re my inventor if anyone asks. All right?”

  “If you say so, Bertie-san.”

  “I do.” Bertie gave the younger man a slight shake for emphasis. Picking up his carpetbag, Bertie took a deep breath, then marched sharply to the door. “Right. Let’s go.”

  When Bertie opened the door, Makoto stood outside. The soldier bowed and indicated for Bertie to follow behind two ornately garbed soldiers.

  “This way, if you please. It’s
time to meet Prince Ichirou.”

  “Thank you.” Bertie fell in behind the soldiers with Tom and Hayate behind him, and Makoto marched rigidly at the rear.

  The guards led them through the palace and Makoto strode to the front as they stopped outside a pair of magnificent doors inlaid with black lacquer and silvery, mother of pearl fish. The guards opened the doors to reveal a magnificent reception room. Bertie stared down at a floor that was covered in mosaics of fish and sea creatures.

  Mosaic waves crested up the lower half of the walls and the upper half was in a delicate shade of pink marble. The same marble had been used in a double row of pillars which ran from the impressive doors to a throne on a dais at the far end of the room.

  The prince was already seated, but at such a distance that Bertie couldn’t make out anything other than the sky blue of his clothing.

  Courtiers thronged the outer areas of the room, pointing and whispering, but left the center aisle empty.

  “This way Blackwood-san.” Makoto indicated for Bertie to follow him, but halfway along the column-line aisle, Makoto pointed to a reception area. “Although the prince asked that I give you the prestige to be first to enter this room, you must approach the prince alongside your competitor. He is Takeshi’s favorite. Ah, here he comes.”

  “Thank you.” Bertie nodded, then looked back toward the doors as an older, richly garbed courtier entered, with Fenton striding behind him, a smirk playing about his lips.

  To Bertie’s surprise, Felton wasn’t alone. At his side was a woman. Surely she’s the woman as I saw on the airship. Bertie shivered, getting the same cold feeling about her as he had previously as she walked in step with Felton.

  In fact, the woman seemed to hold most of the court in thrall as she walked along, head held high. She was both beautiful yet forbidding. Her emerald green silk taffeta dress matched her almond-shaped eyes, her face was painted white, as seemed the fashion for ladies in Japan, and her lips were crimson red. But she was much taller than any of the ladies of the prince’s court.