On the right side of the aisle sat local dignitaries: some Hawaiian noble-men and — women, some members of the former Territorial Legislature (most but not all of them of Japanese blood), a couple of justices from the former Territorial Supreme Court, judges from lesser courts (some of them were Japanese, too, and one an immense Hawaiian), and various other prominent people. Fuchida was a little surprised at how many haoles had chosen to attend, the men in formalwear, often even including top hats, the woman in fancy gowns, most of them of glowing silk.
Some people were conspicuous by their absence. Fuchida leaned toward Genda and murmured, “I see Abigail Kawananakoa decided not to come.”
Genda nodded. “None of the other candidates we interviewed is here, either. Did you expect anything different?”
“No, not really,” Fuchida admitted. “I’m glad this many of the Hawaiian alii did show up.” He chuckled. “Now the ones who did and the ones who didn’t can start cutting each other dead at parties.”
His friend laughed at that till he started to cough. He sent Fuchida a reproachful stare once the spasm passed. “See what you made me do.”
“So sorry,” Fuchida said. They grinned at each other.
Under the ribbed copper dome of the Coronation Pavilion-decorated with Hawaiian coats of arms and supported by eight concrete columns-stood the Anglican Bishop of Honolulu in full ecclesiastical regalia. Fuchida wondered how the haole had been persuaded to officiate. Maybe Stanley Owana Laanui had taken care of that. Fuchida suspected the bishop would have been more likely to listen to him than to the Japanese occupying authorities. Or maybe the occupiers had just held a gun to his head and told him that doing what he needed to do would improve his chances of living to get a little grayer. He was here. That was what counted.
The Royal Hawaiian Band was here, too, though displaced from its usual venue. The bandmaster raised his baton. The band struck up a tune. Fuchida would not have recognized it, but he knew what it was: “Hawaii Ponoi.” The Hawaiian national anthem was particularly appropriate to the occasion, with words by King David Kalakaua and music by Henry Berger, the fork-bearded Prussian who’d created the Royal Hawaiian Band.
On the right side of the aisle, people sang in both Hawaiian and English. Fuchida caught some of the latter:
He nodded to himself. Yes, that fit the spirit of the day very well.
And here came the coronation procession. First were the bearers of the royal insignia, both imported and native. One man carried the dove-topped royal scepter; another, on a velvet cushion, the golden ring of state; two more bore puloulous — tabu staffs ornamented by crowns of black and white cloth that showed the world the king’s sacrosanctity.
Behind them walked a Hawaiian noblewoman carrying the royal cloak made entirely of yellow mamo feathers. The mamo had been hunted into extinction for those feathers, of which each bird had only tiny patches under the wings. The feather cloak was almost extinct, too; it had been taken out of the Bishop Museum-over the curator’s loud objections-for the occasion.
More Hawaiian nobles followed. They had attendants bearing kahili, which reminded Fuchida of nothing so much as the sponges on sticks used to swab out cannon. Here, though, the sponge part was replaced by red and yellow feathers, which produced a much more pleasing effect. Two of the nobles carried the royal crowns, which were made on the European pattern (though decorated with golden taro leaves) and studded with diamonds, opals, emeralds, rubies, pearls-and kukui nuts.
And behind them marched Stanley Owana Laanui himself, in white tie and tails. With him came the prospective Queen of the restored Kingdom of Hawaii. Cynthia Laanui was a smiling, busty redhead only a little more than half her husband’s age. Fuchida had no trouble figuring out what he saw in her. What she saw in him might be a different question altogether.
The new royal couple went up the half-dozen steps that led into the Coronation Pavilion. The noblewoman who bore the royal cloak carefully draped it over Stanley Owana Laanui’s shoulders. The cloak fell to his ankles. It was, without a doubt, an impressive garment, and one no sovereign anywhere in the world could match. Stanley Laanui took the ring of state and set it on his right index finger. He grasped the scepter in his right hand.
“Let us pray,” the Bishop of Honolulu said. Raising his hands in benediction, he went on, “May the Lord bless us and keep us. May He make His face shine upon us and give us peace. And may He find good what we do here today. This we ask in the holy name of our Savior, His Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen.” The response came from the right side of the audience, from some of the diplomats on the left side, and from the new royal couple. Fuchida nodded once more. The prayer said enough to satisfy the occupying authorities, yet not so much as to make a mockery of the bishop’s conscience if, as was likely, he didn’t favor the Japanese cause.
Wearing no expression whatever, the bishop set one crown on Stanley Owana Laanui’s head, the other on Cynthia Laanui’s flaming locks. “God bless the King and Queen of Hawaii,” he said in a voice also empty of everything.
Flashbulbs popped. Newsreel cameras had been grinding away all along. The audience applauded, perhaps more politely than enthusiastically. Fuchida and Genda, Minami and Murakami looked at one another and smiled as they clapped. They’d got the job done.
“I thank you,” King Stanley said, looking out over his subjects-and his masters. “The American annexation and occupation of Hawaii were not only illegal and immoral but also disastrous for the Hawaiian people. There are less than half as many Hawaiians alive today as there were fifty years ago.”
Is that why you have a redheaded Queen? Fuchida wondered. Stanley Owana Laanui went on, “Now that these islands are free again, I intend to make them into a kingdom that can feed itself and support itself instead of being caught like a fly in a spiderweb of ties to the mainland. Cooperation with the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere will help Hawaii to achieve this goal.” That was nicely done: he admitted being a puppet without ever naming Japan.
“Now we do not have to pretend to be Americans any more,” he said-in English. Did he notice the irony, or did it slide past him? Fuchida couldn’t be sure. The new King was shrewd, but whether he was really clever was much less obvious. He finished, “We may choose our own friends once more. With the help of those friends, we will continue to live untroubled lives here in the heart of the Pacific. Thank you.”
The Kingdom of Hawaii’s… friends had sunk two U.S. carriers and smashed up a third. As long as they could keep that up, Hawaii would remain untroubled-by the Americans, anyhow. As Fuchida applauded once more, he caught Genda’s eye. Now they had to make sure the newly revived kingdom stayed as independent as Japan wanted it to be-and not a bit more.