Bernard the Bee and the Kingdom of Berocia

“Would you care for a glass of nectar, Captain?” Benson asked as he poured a modest glass for himself.

Captain Beaumont looked up and replied with a sigh. “Hmm? Oh, no. Thank you.”

Benson walked over to the small mahogany table where the captain sat. He took a sip of the nectar and set the glass on the table. “You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Captain.” Benson pulled out a chair, and with a grunt, he sat. “Are you sure you do not want a drink? This nectar is from our Southern fields… five years aged!”

“No, I do not drink," the Captain said, "But do tell me, Benson, why does the queen no longer want me as her Royal Protector. What could be more important than protecting my queen?” Captain Beaumont exhaled and rested his head in his hands.

Benson shook his head. “Well, Captain, if you would give me a moment to explain – you will soon learn that what the queen asks of you is the greatest way to protect her… and the kingdom.” The advisor to the queen took another pull from his glass, and under his breath, he mumbled, “You really should start drinking.”

“Have I not protected my queen to the best of my ability? Have I somehow offended her in some way? Tell me truthfully, Benson – what have I done to be pulled from the Royal Guard?” The captain’s eyes pleaded; he leaned forward, eagerly awaiting an answer.

Benson shook his head and chuckled. “The queen needs those that she can trust for a secret mission – and it so happens that you are the one to lead it. She trusts you, Beaumont – you may think that your queen is sending you on some menial task, but you would be wrong… very wrong.”

Benson downed the rest of his glass and set it back to the table with such force that Beaumont thought it might shatter. Then, with cautious eyes flicking back and forth, Benson leaned forward, his face mere inches from the captains, and the smell of fermented nectar was firm on his breath.

Benson lowered his voice so deep that it became almost inaudible, and even at this close of a distance, Beaumont had to strain to hear. “Dark forces are rising in the Southern reaches of Belang; three of the most powerful kingdoms have vanished; without a trace….”

“What do you mean vanished? And what dark forces do you mean; are you trying to say wasps?” The Captain queried, his voice almost a shout.

“Shhh. Lower your voice!” Benson looked about the empty dining hall, half expecting to find someone hiding under a table eavesdropping. “No, not wasps – well, we are uncertain, could be wasps, but that is why the queen needs you, Captain Beaumont.”

“Me! Why would the queen send me to investigate the farthest reaches of Belang to see if wasps had attacked the Southern Kingdoms? That makes no sense at all; why not send the armies south to break up these rogues?” Beaumont sat up straight and folded his hands before him. “It sounds as if I am being sent on a fool’s errand Benson. Where did you hear the word that these hives had vanished?”

“Why, one of the queen’s very own messengers. He has been in the queen’s service now for some time – he came back just today. The young lad was very truthful in explaining what he had seen….”

“Truthful? Or was it just that his story was believable, Benson?” The captain barked.

Benson ran a hand through his thick white beard, thinking on the captain’s question. “Both. He has no reason to lie to the queen – and I have an acute sense for telling if someone is deceitful or not. But, listen to me, Captain, the queen cannot send the armies south putting the whole Kingdom of Berocia in a frenzy; if she is not certain of the enemy – or if there even is one.”

“So where do I fall into all of this? I am no scout, and I am not an investigator – I am the Captain of the Queen’s Guard.”

Benson smiled a big grin. “Precisely, that is why you are going to lead a party south, to determine if our queen is in danger.” He paused and poured himself another glass of the deep purple nectar. “What better bee to send than you? Care for a glass of nectar?” Benson then asked with a wink.

Beaumont shook his head in wonderment at the question. “As I said, I don’t drink.”

“You really ought to lighten up, Captain; you’re in for a long journey.”

Bernard removed the black kettle from the fire just as it started to whistle and set it immediately on the wooden table. He walked to the cozy kitchen, stood on his tiptoes, and reached into the overhead cupboard; he came away with a white saucer and matching teacup. Then, turning around and taking the three-step walk back to the table, he eased himself down onto the faded and dingy green carpet and folded his legs one over the other.

Bernard’s living quarters were not enormous like many of the nobles in the hive, but they did not need to be; he was pleased with his position in life, and he never really had much to complain about - other than not being able to see his family more than once a year.

The life in the hive of the most powerful kingdom in all of Belang kept him quite busy. Bernard had moved from the most northern tip of Belang just over three years ago to seek out a comfortable living - and what better place to work than the most powerful kingdom in all of Belang than Berocia. First, however, he needed to support his parents, and the best paying job he could find was that of Her Majesty, Queen Beatrice’s Royal Couriers.

Bernard’s father lost a wing in battle when Bernard was just a child, and it was always hard for his mother to put food on the table after that. Bernard’s mother, small even by bee standards, and unfortunately, where Bernard got his size, was just a simple homemaker. However, Bernard’s mother, Beanie, had always been an extraordinary cook, and by far, her honey cakes were the best he had ever tasted. Bernard’s small family made ends meet as Beanie sold her cakes and treats to the locals. Still, it was hardly enough. So these past few years, Bernard would send much of what he made to his mother in hopes that one day his parents could make a move to Berocia. Bernard wanted nothing more than to be a soldier like his father; unfortunately, no kingdom wished to have a pint-sized bee as a soldier. But he could fly higher and faster than any bee in the land, which makes for a splendid courier. Someday I will make my father proud, Bernard thought.

Bernard pushed previous thoughts aside. The courier bee’s smile widened as he rubbed his hands together. Today is a good day; Bernard’s mother mailed a parcel that arrived this evening; she had shipped a dozen cakes - and how Bernard was looking forward to eating a couple of them now - they would taste just splendid with a cup of tea.

As Bernard poured the steaming liquid into his cup, there came a sudden rap at his door. Startled by the sound, Bernard missed the cup and spilled some of the boiling water onto the carefully wrapped package his mother had sent.

“Oh, my,” He exclaimed, dabbing up the water with a nearby and slightly discolored rag. Another knock sounded at the door; this time, it was more urgent and a little louder. “Yes, I’m coming!” He shouted as he balled up the wet rag and tossed it onto the table.

Bernard walked to the door. As he brushed off the water from his hands onto the breast of his shirt, he wondered who could be calling on him this time of the night. So rarely did Bernard have visitors, and they had always come during daytime hours. He remembered then that the queen might need him, and he might have to answer more questions, and that it was most likely one of the queen’s servants to escort Bernard back to the queen’s council.

Bernard pulled back on the deadbolt and opened the door. Standing before him were two bees. One of the bees was very old, with a long and elegant white beard; he wore a fabulous robe. Even in the low light of the lamps burning in the hallway, the material of the robes gave off a shimmering radiance; the golden yellow stars set on a black background seemed to twinkle, and it appeared as if they gave off a warm light of their own. The bee standing next to him was very tall, and Bernard had to strain his neck to look up at him. It was one of the queen’s royal guards, and he wore a full suit of glistening golden armor and tucked neatly under one of his arms, a great helm with two black and yellow plumes. He stood at attention, and his dark, brooding eyes, seemed to bore right through Bernard’s own. The Royal Guardsman stood as tall as any bee or wasp that Bernard had ever seen - and looked every bit as intimidating as a wasp.

Clearing his throat to speak, the older bee said, “Sorry to be calling on you at such a late hour, Bernard… you are Bernard, no?” He asked, arching one eyebrow and awaiting a response.

“I-um-er- yes. Yes, I am Bernard. Is my presence needed with the queen?”

“Oh. No, Bernard, the queen is not requesting you at this time.” The old bee glanced about the hallway and then looked back to Bernard. “Do you live alone, Bernard?” He asked. Bernard nodded his head. “May we come in?”

Bernard looked the two bees over once again and forced down a swallow as he took in the overwhelming size of the Royal Guardsman. He opened the door wider, ushering the two guests in; Captain Beaumont ducked his head before walking through the doorway, and once inside the home, the massive bee had to walk hunched over as his head brushed against the ceiling. Bernard noticed a long sword in a golden scabbard hanging at the guard’s waist; it made a clicking sound against his armor as he walked. Bernard quickly hurried past the two visitors standing in the narrow entryway and motioned with a hand for them to follow.

“Excuse the mess – I hardly ever have guests, and naturally, I was not expecting any,” Bernard said as he took quick glances over his shoulder while leading them down the hallway.

“Not to worry, youngling, it is a home that looks lived in - by the way – I do not believe we properly introduced ourselves.” The three bees stepped into a pocket-sized living space. “I am Benson – the queen’s advisor, and this large fellow,” Benson said as he turned, holding a hand out toward the giant bee. “This is none other than Captain Beaumont, Commander, of her Queen’s Royal Guard.”

“Oh – I see.” Bernard’s eyes shifted about the little room. There were no chairs for anyone to sit in - the only furniture: a stocky rectangular table made of pine and six small cushions used to the point where the stuffing had settled deep into the corners. The top of the table - littered with various books and letters, and of course, the black tea kettle still discharged steam from the spout. Bernard looked to the cup that he had poured and thought to ask the two gents if they would care for a cup as well. He got as far as turning around and opening his mouth.

“Ah, honeysuckle and lavender tea, I always seemed to favor those two blends,” Benson said while sniffing the air and rubbing his hands together.

“Would you two care for a tilt?” Bernard asked as he looked in the Captain’s direction.

Captain Beaumont shook his head that he did not.

Benson glared at the captain and turned to Bernard, lowering his voice, “The quiet one – he doesn’t drink. I will take a cup – if it is not too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all,” Bernard replied. He then looked to the captain and made a queer face as he regarded him. “You do not drink? Hmm.”

Benson laughed, to which he received a hot glare from Beaumont. Bernard giggled along with Benson, although for what, he was not entirely sure. Bernard shook his head with wonderment while walking to the kitchen. He removed a cup and saucer from the cabinet and walked back to the living room, where Benson had already taken a seat on a stack of cushions.

“Here you are, sir,” Bernard said as he handed the white teacup and saucer to Benson. “I must apologize for the lack of furniture – as I said, I rarely have guests, and I am away from home most of the time – my line of work keeps me very busy.” Bernard sat down on his cushion and crossed his legs.

Captain Beaumont, standing by the hearth, cleared his throat. “Yes, your line of work – that is what brings us here tonight at such a late hour. You are the court’s courier?” The Captain’s voice was low and rumbled when he spoke. “I would hear this story that you spoke of with the queen – and leave out no details.”

Bernard took a sip from his cup of tea and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He then began with the story of his journey south. Once he had finished telling of his report that he had said to the queen, he had downed nearly three cups of tea, and the pot wholly drained. Captain Beaumont stood unmoving and straight-faced the whole time. The logs on the fire were nothing but gray ash with tiny red embers, and the candles in the cozy room sat in puddles of melted wax. The air was so deathly still that Bernard was afraid to utter another word. He waited silently for the Captain or Benson to say something, but neither did. The old Advisor sat quietly, stroking his thick white beard the whole time that Bernard spoke. Worse yet, the Captain never moved - hardly a blink from those dangerous eyes.

After such a long and uncomfortable silence, Beaumont spoke. “You said that you felt as if someone were watching you – how so?”

“Well, the best way that I can explain….” Bernard briefly thought his answer over, then continued, “You know when you are alone, but you get a tingling feeling at the back of your neck, and you suddenly turn, but nobody is there?” The captain nodded his head. “Well, that is the feeling that I got – it was the same at every hive, no less.”

“Do you suggest that someone or something was hiding and spying on you? Benson inquired.

Bernard shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know, sir. Do you think that the wasps may be behind this?”

“It’s possible but highly doubtful. Since the beginning of time, we have had our disagreements and skirmishes with the wasps over land – they are mainly rogue bands and not very organized. Besides, something of this magnitude, and this carefully planned out – well, it just is beyond their understanding. The last time the wasps formed a large enough army to threaten the bee kingdoms was during the Great War. A great bee wizard destroyed them to the point of extinction - he also died in the process.” Benson made eye contact with the captain.

“Although I do not entirely disagree with you, Benson – it would be wise not to presume such. The wasps are known to be very crafty at times – and yes, not on this scale since my father last fought them during the Great War, but still… we must keep all avenues open to us.” Captain Beaumont retorted as he stoked the coals and tossed another two logs on the fire.

“Well then.” Bernard broke in as he stood up from the table, both knees cracking as he did so. “I hope that the information that I gave you helps in some small way. But, unfortunately, it is late, and I really must be going to bed now – I have to travel north in the morning, and it is such a long trip.”

“I am afraid your duties have changed – per the queen’s orders, of course. You can get your sleep tonight; in the morning, you will break your fast with Benson and me. We meet at the Queens’ dining hall – first light, do not be the last to arrive.” With that said, Beaumont licked his thumb and forefinger and squashed out the flames of the two melting candles perched upon the hearth. They went out with a sound like a viper’s hiss.

Benson stood with a grunt and then nodded his head toward Bernard. “Thank you for the delightful tea Bernard. Rest well. In the morning, we will fill you in on the details over breakfast.”

The two let themselves out. Bernard sat in silence, watching the flames of the logs burning until they became nothing but cold ash. He eyed the soggy remains of his honey cakes with disgust. It would be sometime before Bernard would get the chance to have his mother’s delightful cakes again. He did not sleep.