"The one who serviced Henry the Eighth?" asked the Oriental.
"You know of him?" asked Wissex.
"Sure," Remo said. "Part of my training was learning all the traditions of the Masters of Sinanju. I remember one of them worked for Henry the Eighth."
"Yes," said the Oriental. "He was called in because the gracious Henry had no one."
"He had my ancestor," said Lord Wissex.
"Correct," said the Oriental. "Remo, please recite."
"And it came to pass," said the American, "that the lesser Wang came unto the shores of England, which had at that time conquered Wales and held Scotland in a form of alliance.
"And the king was deeply troubled. Enemies abounded, the kingdom verged on civil war, and all he
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had to defend himself was his Lord Wissex, a man skilled only at removing complicating children from women's bellies. Namely the king's complicating children from women's bellies. Would the Master of Sinanju properly service His Britannic Majesty for proper tribute? And train Wissex to kill grown men?
"And the sum there was was four hundred of cattle, ten weights of gold, fifty of silver, five ships of corn grain, a thousand fat fowl, three hundred iron blades yet to be fashioned, ten thousand weight bronze, thirty-two fine chairs, fruit seed, twenty bolts of linen, un-worked...."
"Lie," gasped Lord Wissex. "He was not an abortionist. My ancestor was an assassin."
"You interrupted the list," said Chiun. "We haven't gotten to the pear trees, partridges, gold rings, calling birds, milking maids, and frenen hens. There were frenen hens."
"Lie. He was not an abortionist."
"Don't be ashamed of your ancestors, Merton," said the Oriental. "He was, after all, only English."
"There were no pear trees," said the American.
Merton Lord Wissex felt the American's hands re-leasB just a bit from the neck on that statement.
"There were pear trees," said Chiun.
"No, no," said Remo. "Louis the Fifteenth sent trees. I think they were plum trees. Henry sent turtledoves."
"No, we never got turtledoves from Henry," Chiun said. "The British had fine pear trees. We never had plum trees."
"I saw them in your village," Remo said.
"You never saw plum trees in Sinanju," Chiun said.
"I did."
"Didn't," said Chiun. "Pear trees."
Wissex pushed the tooth up out of its slot and up to the molars on the left side of his mouth. With his remaining power, he bit down on the empty shell of a tooth. It cracked, releasing a bittersweet syrup.
He swallowed. His throat became numb, and then 108
the tips of his fingers felt faraway, and he glided off into that sleep of sleeps.
Remo felt the life go out of what was in his hand. He let the body drop.
"They were plums," Remo said. "I ate one in Sinanju. 1 remember it. It was a lousy plum."
"Because it was a pear," said Chiun. "You killed our butler."
"No. He took his own Ufe. It was a plum."
"Pear," said Chiun.
The sailboat's skipper was amazed at how quiet St. Maarten's looked without its oil. An American gunboat stopped the sailboat.
"If you enter, you cannot leave," came a voice over the bullhorn.
"I know," the captain shouted back.
"Did you people throw something overboard back there?" came the question from the gunboat.
The captain asked his passengers. There were only two now. He didn't see the third.
"Did anyone throw anything overboard back there?" he asked.
"I know a plum from a pear," said the American angrily.
"And so do I," said the Oriental.
"Did you throw something overboard?" asked the captain again.
"A body. He was dead," said the American. "Have you ever seen a purple pear?"
When the boat docked at St. Maarten's, even the horsedrawn carriages squealed in their axles for a lack of oil.
"This," Remo said, "is what happens without oil."
"Not bad," said Chiun.
"Beg your pardon," said the sailboat captain. "You didn't say back there that you threw a dead body overboard, did you?"
"Sure," said Remo.
On St. Maarten's, cars were stopped alongside the 109
roads. Some of them were pushed off to the side. Little white waxy mushrooms covered their gas tanks.