The Birthday Suit

      Long ago and faraway, there was a flourishing kingdom at the center of a prosperous empire. Every year, on the Emperor’s birthday, the capital city threw a festival. It began with grand parade marching from his castle to the coast. Elephants marched through the town square, followed by fan dancers, drummers, and fire eaters. Musicians played from morning until nightfall, and everyone was invited to dance. It ended all ended at a large bonfire and a feast large enough to feed the whole city and then some. There were barrels of wine, roasted pigs, and more cakes than any baker in town made in a year. As the Emperor got older, the parades became more lavish and decadent, but one thing remained the same: The Emperor always had a new suit tailored for his birthday and wore it in the parade.

Everyone worked overtime in the weeks leading up to the festival, especially the tax collectors. The parade trashed the streets and there were always a plethora of drunks brawling in the streets. The whole affair cost more wealth and resources than they made back with tourism, but it had become such a beloved tradition that no one complained. Besides, who doesn’t love a free meal?

           As the Emperor’s sixtieth birthday approached, a young boy from a small village asked if he could go to the festival. Father shook his head, saying, “I have far too much work to do in the fields. Besides, I doubt it has changed much from when I went as a child.”

“Perhaps it has,” Mother said. “I shall take the boy and see if anything about the festival has changed since our days in the capital.”

The next day, they set out to the big city. They brought along their best goat to make money selling milk on the journey. Mother carried most of their belongings in a bundle over her shoulders. The boy carried their coin purse and food rations in the empty milk pail. Even the goat, tied to the boy’s wrist by a thin rope, had a satchel on her back.

Many others traveled to the big city for the festival, and the further they traveled, the more crowded the roads got. Some mornings, the three sat on the side of the rode and people formed a line for a drink of fresh goat’s milk for their cup. The family saved money foraging for food whenever possible, the goat particularly good at finding wild berries and dragging the boy through thickets to reach them. When they did have extra coin to spare, they spent it paying for wagon rides from farmers riding to the next town east. The price usually went up a bit once they noticed the goat. The family slept best on these trips, cuddled against large squash or hay bales.

At night, they made a camp under a large tree. They made a tent over a tree branch with a long blanket pinned with wooden stakes. Mother made a fire and told the boy stories of all the wild animals and magic tricks she saw at the parade as a girl. Some might worry about highwaymen or other dangerous men on the road, especially for a woman and child, but they never worried. The goat, along with being a great pillow, was fiercely loyal and had a deceptively strong back kick. Fortunately, only one man had to learn that lesson as they traveled.

The pair lucked out on the weather most days, but they stayed two nights in Leeksfield when a storm came through. They made a lot of money selling fresh milk to the town inn, buying them supper and stable bed. Many innkeepers whose horses died in the famine stuffed their leftover straw into makeshift mattresses and sold their stables out as rooms to poor or desperate festival travelers. Mother liked to chat up people as they passed around flagons of ale and the boy liked listening to their stories, curled up in his mother’s lap. Oddly enough, the goat had to stay tied up outside.

After a long but wonderful journey, they arrived in big city with days to spare. The boy had never seen so many people from so many places. He carried the goat just to move through the crowd without becoming a stone in a river of people. Even a week ahead of the feast, people flooded into the city, more each day. Mother found a nice spot to camp under a bridge near the parade route. Under the parade route, to be exact. It was perfect, avoiding the main crowd staking claims, while getting enough foot traffic to make some coin. They had shade in the heat and a roof when if it rained.

Each morning, they sold milk until the goat had nothing left to give. Then, the boy tied danced jigs with bells tied to his ankles and wrists until he had nothing left to give. Then, mother sang old standards until she had none left to give. By then, it was usually evening, with plenty of time to eat, rest and count coins. Though they had no place to build a fire, they found ways to make the camp cozy.

By the eve of the parade, mother returned from the market with roasted goose legs and summer squash. She even had enough left to buy them each a treat: rum for mother, spiced cake for the boy and a lettuce head for the goat. All night, voices chatted, and glasses clinked in toasts to each other’s health. The town buzzed with excitement and many already claimed their spots on rooftops and roadside to watch the parade.

           The boy woke up full of excitement, unable to put his energy anywhere useful. He tipped the milk bucket twice and jumped up and down trying to glimpse of what was crossing the bridge. Eventually, mother told him to go up and watch the parade while she worked down below. He pulled her hand and begged her to come, but she shook her head.

           “Run along,” She chided with a laugh. “I have seen it once already. You go have fun.”

           The boy climbed up the stones on the bridge and found a small perch off a decorative pillar, just high enough to see over the crowd’s heads. The boy watch tumblers and acrobats march down the street doing impressive stunts and tricks. A man in a tall hat walked a flock of peacocks on gold leashes. A beautiful woman dressed did a handstand on an elephant’s head while people tossed dried fruit into the hands of the crowd. The boy clapped and cheered and waved with the rest of the people, caught up in the swing.

           “Here he comes!” Shouted a man in the crowd and everyone arched their necks to see the grand finale. Beautiful women scattered flower petals across the road. Behind them, two horses drew a gold carriage with an open roof. In the middle, on a velvet platform stood the Emperor himself, arms raised in the air. The crowd erupted with cheers and screams of adoration as he rounded the corner. The Emperor waved to his subjects with one hand and held a ruby encrusted scepter with the other. Even at a distance, his crown and rings sparkled in the sun.  

The boy stared at him, in awe of a man so powerful. Then, he noticed something rather odd. Turning to a man near him in the crowd, the boy asked, “Why is he naked?”

The man laughed, “Whatever do you mean?”

           His wife explained, “I supposed he is a bit underdressed, compared to last year.”

           “Oh, I like it, though,” said another woman. “Such fine drapery.”

           “Finest in all the kingdom.”

The boy looked again as the Emperor as he approached. He saw no drapery, only wrinkled skin. He did not understand what they saw that he did not. “But the Emperor has no clothes!”

“No, no. He is,” Another man in the crowd said, shading his eyes from the sun. “I’m quite sure. Right?”

“Of course, he is!” said an older woman closer to the road. “See, that fine velvet. At least on the forearms and down the center of his back. Fur codpiece is a bit much.”

“I don’t know, now.” A young soldier said, scratching his head and stepping out to look at another angle. “Kid might be right.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! No one would let the Emperor leave the house naked.” Insisted another.

“But what’s swinging between his legs then?” Pointed out someone else.

“Have you people no decency than to mock your Emperor.”

“I never noticed before, but I think those might be nipples.”

“Those are buttons, you pervert!”

           The crowd rabbled and murmured as the Emperor approached. The debate turned into As the Emperor approached the end of the bridge, the debate turned into a low roar. He stopped marching and the crowd fell silent. He looked around, annoyed by his subjects’ sudden lack of enthusiasm.

           “What’s the meaning of all this commotion?”

           For a long time, no one spoke. The Emperor pointed to a man he saw whispering before and gestured him forward. The farmhand wrung the back of his neck, eyes to the ground. “Well?”

           “Well, your grace, some people—not me, of course—are saying that you might be naked. Is, uh—is that true?”

           The Emperor laughed, followed nervously by his young bride, then all the royal servants and guards. “Of course! I pay ten pounds of silver each year for all my finest garments. Who would say such nonsense?”

The crowd fell silent. The Emperor himself stopped and turned to the boy. His mouth went dry as the crowd lifted him and carried him forward. The boy averted his eyes as he stood before the Emperor. He seemed amused that it was all because of a small child.

“What makes you speak such slander?”

“It is only slander if it is a lie.” The boy was clever for his age and too clever for his class. “And I do not lie.”

“Trust me, a man like me would never leave the house naked. Your sensibilities are just not refined enough to see it.”

“I see the hair on your chest and moles on your thighs. I see wrinkles and rolls and battle scars. And, well, your grace, I see your nether hair and flesh.”

           “May I feel your sleeve then?”

           “With those filthy hands! Never.”

           “I shall,” said the Emperor’s trusted advisor. After removing his glove, he ran one hand over the man’s shoulder. At first, he seemed a bit confused. Then, he smiled, holding the sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, it’s quite soft. Stretches nice too.”

           “But isn’t that your skin.”

“No, no. It’s leather for certain,” The young Empress rubbed the collar between her fingers.

“That pinches a bit, my dear,” The Emperor said, and his bride let go.

“Perhaps,” said one of the doubting townsmen. “If you took it off, we could all see the fabric.”

“You’d have your Emperor gallivanting about town without his clothes on!? Are you mad?”

“Just the shirt then!” Someone else in the crowd shouted.

A woman screeched up, “Your majesty need prove nothing to us! We believe you, your grace!”

“We support the Emperor!”

“Now that I see it, it’s all I can see.”

“You don’t get to be Emperor without knowing a thing or two about nudity.”

“He just looks naked to me.”

“You may not like the man, but there’s no reason to attack him like this. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You blind fool! You follow along with whatever leaders say. Obviously, the man is nude!”

“Well, the boy definitely isn’t from around here,” another man shook his head. “No one loyal to the crown would say such things.”

“No one truly loyal would blindly follow their ruler!”

And on and on it went, voices growing louder and overlapping. Men shoved each other and women screamed their faces red.  The boy slipped back to the crowd and climbed down to the hovel where his mother says, stitching holes in their shoes. She saw the strange expression on his face and the arguments grow louder.

“What happened?” Mother asked as the boy sat down beside him.

“The Emperor had no clothes on.”

“Still?” Mother said with a sigh. “I suppose the parade really hasn’t changed after all.”