Ranger's Apprentice 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja by John Flanagan Page B

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.
    Instinctively, the villagers moved a little closer to their Emperor. But there was no threat in the movement. They simply wanted a better view of this legendary character. It was unknown for someone so exalted to visit a little village like this one – and laugh and joke with the inhabitants.
    ‘This is a beautiful village,’ Shigeru was saying, as he looked around the rows of neat, thatched cabins. ‘What do you call it?’ He selected a young boy for his question – a boy barely in his teens, Horace guessed.
    The youngster was tongue-tied for a few seconds. He stared wide eyed at his Emperor, not believing that he had been addressed by such an important personage. A woman standing beside him, probably his mother, Horace thought, nudged him with her elbow and hissed something at him. Thus encouraged, he stammered out an answer.
    ‘We call it mura , my lord,’ he said. His tone seemed to imply that Shigeru should have known that. There were a few muted giggles from the crowd but Shigeru beamed at him.
    ‘And an excellent name that