John Flanagan - The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

'Kikori people,' Shukin began. His voice was deep and authoritative. He didn't speak loudly, but such was the timbre of his voice that his words carried clearly to everyone in the clearing. 'Today, a great honour has come to your village.'

He paused, his gaze scanning the waiting timber workers and their families. He felt a twinge of disappointment as he saw the disbelief in their eyes. They were cynical of any Senshi warrior who told them they were about to receive a great honour. Usually such statements were the prelude to a series of demands on their homes, their food, their time and their wellbeing. Be honoured because you can give us whatever we ask for – after all, we plan to take it anyway.

Sad to say, it was the way the world had always been between the two classes.

He sought for the words necessary to convince them that he and his men were not seeking to impose themselves on the village. They were asking for hospitality and shelter, yes. But they would pay. They would treat the villagers fairly. Any such reassurance would likely fall on deaf ears, he knew. The Kikori had years of experience of arrogant treatment at the hands of the Senshi and no number of soft words could change that.

As he hesitated, he felt a light touch on his forearm.

'Perhaps I should talk to them, cousin,' said Shigeru.

Shukin hesitated. Even in such humble surroundings, Shigeru should be accorded a certain level of esteem. And that meant that he should be announced properly, with all his titles and honours, so that the people could greet him respectfully.

He drew breath to say something along those lines when he realised that Shigeru was already swinging down from the saddle. The Emperor grinned at the man nearest to him, a heavily muscled, thickset type who had obviously spent his lifetime swinging the massive axe that he held loosely in his right hand. The man's face was set in a stubborn, unsmiling expression. He had the look of a leader about him. He was the one to win over, Shigeru knew.

'Aaaah!' the Emperor said, with deep relief as he rubbed his buttocks. 'That feels so good!'

The timber worker couldn't help a small, surprised smile forming. He was disarmed by Shigeru's ingenuous statement and informal manner. They were far removed from the haughty demeanour of the Senshi that the timber worker had encountered in the past.

Shukin watched anxiously from his saddle, his eyes fixed on that massive axe. He desperately wanted to move his hand closer to the hilt of his sword but he knew that would be a mistake – possibly a fatal one. At the slightest sign of aggression, this tableau could explode into bloodshed.

Shigeru, however, seemed to have no such misgivings. He stepped closer to the man, bowed to him, and held out his hand in greeting.

'What's your name?' he asked.

The timber worker was taken aback. This Senshi was offering to clasp hands in friendship, an unprecedented gesture. And he had bowed first – a totally unexpected sign of politeness. He started to reach for Shigeru's hand, realised that he held the axe in his own right hand and shifted it awkwardly to his left. Then he hesitated, glancing down at his callused hand, still stained with dirt and tree sap from the day's hard work.

Shigeru laughed, a deep booming sound that was genuinely amused.

'Don't worry about me!' he said. 'I'm not such a fragrant flower myself!' And he held up his own palm, dirt and travel stained, for them all to see. 'Just don't crush my tiny fingers in that massive grip of yours!'

A muted ripple of amusement ran through the watching villagers. Horace sensed a certain lessening in the tension. The timber worker grinned in reply and reached forward to clasp Shigeru's hand.

'I am Eiko,' he said.

Shigeru nodded, filing the name away. Horace knew the Emperor could be introduced to another twenty people this night and he would remember all their names after hearing them once. It was a skill that Shigeru had demonstrated on more than one occasion.

Eiko now cocked his head to one side expectantly, wondering if the Senshi would respond with his own name. If he did, it would be a first. Senshi normally proclaimed their names loudly, expecting lower classes to respond with respect and awe. In Eiko's experience, they didn't exchange names in friendship with Kikori axemen.

Shigeru held the pause just long enough to make sure he had everyone's attention. Then he reclaimed his hand, shaking it a little in joking deference to the strength of Eiko's grip.

'Nice to meet you, Eiko. I'm Shigeru Motodato.'

There was an intake of breath from the assembled villagers. Of course they knew the name. There had been rumours that Shigeru was visiting his mountain lodge, not too far away. And they had heard other rumours over the past few years. It was said that this Emperor was a friend of the lower classes, that he spoke easily and freely with farmers, fishermen and woodcutters when he encountered them, refusing to stand on his dignity, and treating them as friends.

'Oh,' Shigeru said, as if adding an afterthought, 'sometimes people refer to me as "the Emperor".'

He turned, grinning at the people around him, and contrived in that movement to allow his outer robe to open, revealing the Motodato crest on the left breast of his tunic – a stylised bunch of three red cherries. It was the royal crest, of course, recognised throughout Nihon-Ja.

Now the whispered intake of breath became a general chorus of respect and each of the villagers bowed their heads and dropped to one knee in deference to the Emperor. They had no doubt that this was he. It was an offence punishable by death for anyone other than the Emperor or his entourage to wear the royal emblem. They couldn't conceive of anyone being foolish enough to do so.

But now Shigeru stepped forward among them. He selected an elderly woman, grey-haired and stooped from a lifetime of hard work, reached down and took her hand, gently assisting her to rise.

'Please! Please! There's no need for such formality! Come on, mother! Up you come! Don't get yourself all muddy just because of me!'

The woman stood, but still kept her head lowered respectfully. Others in the crowd raised their heads as Shigeru reached forward, tipping her chin up with his hand so that their eyes could meet. He saw surprise mingled with respect, then a sudden glow of affection on the lined face.

'That's better! After all, you've worked hard all your life, haven't you?'

'Yes, lord,' she muttered.

'Harder than me, I'll bet. Got any children?'

'Eight, my lord.'

'Eight? My lord!' Shigeru said, cleverly repeating her phrase but changing the inflection to one of awed respect. Laughter ran around the assembled villagers. 'You've definitely been working harder than me!'

'And seventeen grandchildren, my lord,' said the woman, emboldened now by his easy manner. Shigeru whistled in surprise and smacked his forehead.

'Seventeen! I'll bet you spoil 'em, eh?'

'No indeed, Lord Shigeru!' she responded indignantly. 'If they play up on me, they feel the flat of my hand on their bums!'

Her hands flew to her mouth in horror as she realised she'd said 'bums' in front of the Emperor. But Shigeru merely grinned at her.

'Nothing to be ashamed of, mother. We've all got a bum, you know.'

Now the laughter grew louder. Shigeru turned to the crowd and made an upward gesture with his hands. 'Please! Please! No bowing and scraping needed! Stand up, all of you!'

And they did, with a mixture of wonder and amusement at his easygoing, informal approach. They were a canny group, difficult to deceive. And they sensed, as did most people on first meeting Shigeru, that he was genuine. He liked people. He enjoyed meeting with them and laughing with them. There was neither deceit nor conceit about him.