"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 in 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.