Chapter 6 Honeybee on The Thermals of Love
Our gaze now shifts back to the Summer Palace when Genia had left.
“Honeybee, wake up Honeybee. What’s wrong with you? Come on, we must away. We must adventure abroad to find our beloved Genia.”
It was no good, Celeste could not rouse her. She left a goblet of green tea beside the bed and left in a hurry. She needed to make haste to return to the others and work out what to do in this immediate crisis. All they knew was that Genia had been sent away. Diana had told them decisively that Genia was pregnant with Demetri’s child. That was enough, they must discuss in earnest what they could best do to serve their friend and Queen in waiting. This world had unexpectedly been smashed into a thousand pieces and despite their tender years these were strong and intelligent women, there must be a way that they could help the cause.
Honeybee opened an eye, drank from the goblet, reached for her red silk bag, grasped a small box, removed the pungent root from inside, chewed off a big lump and stuck her head back under the covers, still chewing. Softly her body seemed to sink more deeply into the soft mattress and she gripped the blankets less tightly.
“No, no, no, no! Not now, not now, don’t let it come. By Greta, don’t let it come.”
Neither awake nor asleep she clung to the image in her mind of the splendid wedding’s eve before it had all gone wrong. She had tried very hard not to steal Genia’s moment by her own relentless showing off. She had been laughing loudly, entertaining all the young men with her sharp mind and animal charm, and above all by flirting relentlessly with Benedict. Indeed she had not stolen Genia’s thunder, for nothing had made the princess happier than to see everyone rejoicing at the feast before her wedding. Honeybee had been wild with a fast beating heart as Benedict twirled, swirled and romanced her around the dance floor. Her body was as light as a feather, her eyes magnetically attracted to his, her back alight with passion as he held her in his dancing arms. They felt like one body in harmony, they fitted together as if crafted by the spirits themselves. These two old friends had never been shy about their adoration of one another and everyone knew it. The court had waited to see if Benedict should make a proposal but these two had their own secrets.
Benedict had many responsibilities to his friend Prince Demetri and King Alchemela’s court. One day he would be right hand man to Demetri when he became King of The Rynelands when his father chose a suitable time to abdicate. Benedict would then become a Duke but there was much he needed to learn before then.
Honeybee was half human and half wild and fae. She could spark fire, just about shape shift, talk to the trees and was a warrior in her own right being skilled with sword and bow. She could ride like the wind on the fastest steeds and head them fearlessly through field or forest. She had been well taught and her magic set her on fire with excitement, after all her grandmother, Lady Sage, was the best sorceress in the whole of Grieglands. Honeybee’s stamina was unceasing, she could survive on very little sleep for several months and outstrip all the other women with her energy. When she wasn’t practising all of her other arts she could weave great pictures of the deity myths. This fine sorceress was known for her silverwork which Charshine the Fine, the master silversmith who had taught her himself. She had been friends with the Smarles in the workshop and the more she watched their craft, the more she had asked to be shown. The harder she practised the clearer it was that she had a natural talent with silver and it was then that Charshine had decided to teach her himself.
Benedict and Honeybee knew that they must carve out their future by working hard in their youth and that marriage, which they both hoped for, could come later. Honeybee had a more sorrowful and hidden reason for delaying her marriage. For Honeybee, like her mother, Songbird, was afflicted by Heart Sacrifice Cycles. So oppressive did Songbird find these that she chose to live in the soft, beautiful, broadleaf woods of the Western Farm Lands which lay to the south of the Summer Palace. Songbird was wise and full of magical knowledge, she spent her life in the labours of science, botany and medicine to heal her world. Honeybee did her best to hide her own wild and painful cycles from the court. She would usually depart for other regions if she felt she was drifting, unexpectedly into a Heart Sacrifice Cycle. She did not know if Benedict would ever be able to wed her if he truly knew how beyond a cure she was. But she bore it well, and her friends and courtiers all admired her and delighted in her company. When she was tormented with sorrow they barely saw the degree to which she suffered. If she could have truly heard their loving praise she may not have dived so deeply into the well of despair as she sometimes did.
After the exertions of accompanying the ailing Genia to the Summer Palace and then using all her energy to make life better for all, Honeybee was shocked that Genia had been sent away. She had fire in her heart when Lady Sage and Queen Rosemary had told them that Genia had been sent away for her own safety and the security of the realm. They had all talked at once and deplored this course of action but the two older, wiser women convinced them that it had been the only solution to keep Genia safe. Wild horses would not have dragged from these wise women Genia’s destination but they knew these things; that Genia was not in this universe and there was but one portal to her through a cave in The Great Cleft near The Par Sea, many miles away; Demetri must safely win the war and defeat Lord Ivy in order to go and rescue his love. He alone must have many quests before he would find the portal. He alone must recognise Genia by himself in order to break the enchantment on her and thus bring her back to Grieglands; others may enter through the portal to protect Genia but only Demetri could bring her home. One bitter pill that they must swallow was that eighteen years must pass on both sides of the portal and then the time would be right for Demetri’s last quest. If he failed to reach the portal at that time it could close and he would never be able to bring Genia home.
The ladies in turn cried, wailed, shouted and threw themselves down upon the couches. They grasped each other, desperately hoping that this was all a terrible nightmare.
“Ladies,” said the Queen, “I know that this news is shocking to you all and my heart breaks with yours.” She fought back her own tears, yet one escaped her eye and slowly made its watery way down her frowning face. She wrung her hands and took a deep breath.
“ We have a people to govern in the absence of the warring Kings. We have a population who depends upon us and needs to see that we are strong enough to lead them, to care for them, to believe in them. This is not a time to show tears and burning cheeks to our people. Go to your quarters and think about what you can best do to help the people of Greiglands. Decide amongst you who shall help Demetri and Benedict at war and who shall lead Demetri by and by to the Great Cleft. Decide how best to save my dearest daughter and when you have thought seriously about this return to me and Lady Sage, we shall equip you well for your journeys. You are young and able and can go hence whilst we cannot, for we are needed here to govern in this saddest time of war.”
So it was that the maidens retired to their quarters to sleep, for they had ridden hard back from the Summer Palace. In the morning they would make their plans.
Yet in the morning Honeybee could not be roused, she was burned through like mighty candle that had no more wax. The others left her to sleep and gathered together to hatch some plans for the quests ahead of them.
As she lay glazed with fear and exhaustion she saw the one old woman she had never wanted to see again. At first she heard her rasping voice. She looked to the darkest corner of the room and there she appeared sitting on her three-legged, wooden stool in her dirty grey rags, her dirty hands and her smudged, wrinkled face. The air always smelled of burnt bacon when she visited. She entered not by a door but gradually emerged from a thin haze into the shape of an old hag.
“Go away!” muttered Honeybee weakly and hid her head under the covers and gripped them hard.
“Do you not recognise me my sweet? You know me well. I am your true friend, your true voice. I am The Melancholy Voice and I come to comfort you. I come to speak the truth and make you well. Listen to me for the others lie to you. I am your only real friend, those others, they know nothing of you, but I know everything, I know all your dark secrets. I alone know your dark fears and only by trusting in me shall you be cured. I am the only Honest Voice that can save you.”
The room was full of cold air, so cold that Honeybee gasped to breathe as it went down to her lungs. Her heart pounded and she could not get warm. She drank from her goblet and chewed more root until she fainted into a restless sleep. All the while The Melancholy Voice spoke poison into her ears. As she slept The Voice drained her of all her energy and made her hair wet with sweat, she hunched up like a baby and whimpered in her fitful sleep. The Voice told her to sleep and sleep, just sleep because no one needed her, for she was never of any real help, she just got in the way. Forget about Benedict as there were many more suitable brides for him, she could never be a good wife. Life had never known happiness so why try for it now? Don’t pretend that she could go and fight with the menfolk for she was weak and frail, she had no strength. She could never be like other people because her mother was a weak and feeble woman who had bred a child from a mere woodsman. Her mother was afflicted with Heart Sacrifice so just give in to it, go away and live in the woods like your sick mother. You’ll be safer there, leave the court and go to the woods, no one will ever find you and laugh at you again.”
Honeybee lay like this for a week with the other ladies becoming increasingly worried about her. Their plans were no good without her, she was their guiding light. How could they make her better, she was moved slowly arm in arm to the quarters of Lady Sage. She was bathed and freshly clothed and put to bed. Lady Sage fed her and gave her healing herbs and her sleeping root was replaced with ginger and rosemary, the richest honey and tiny meals from the best the cooks could provide. After two weeks Lady Sage sent for Songbird who rode swiftly from the woods to be with her daughter. For three more weeks they all took turns to sit by her side and by degrees The Melancholy Voice began to fade back into a ghostly form. But Honeybee was not herself, she had lost her life force and could barely sit up or walk. Little by little, as her strength returned she said,
“I have been most unwell and I can be of no help to you until I am healed. Therefore I shall return to my mother’s home in the Southern Woods. I shall let nature be my cure. I shall think about all of your plans and when I am recovered we shall resume our quest to find and save Genia. I had hoped that I could ride to war and help the Kings but I admit I am unable to do so at this time. I am reduced to a weak and humble state. Only nature itself can be my healer.”
“You make a true and honest statement dear Honeybee, but I ask of you one thing,” requested Lilliana.
“We have been like sisters since our youth. I am also at one with the arts of the forest and woodlands and I would like to care for you alongside your dear mother. I desire to accompany you so that we can ride together in times of sorrow as well as in strength and fortitude. Let us pursue our quest together. When you have gathered your strength let us go forth and do all that is necessary to heal our world and find our Princess,” said Lilliana calmly.
Songbird sat quietly and watched her daughter wearily struggle to think. At length Honeybee agreed and the three set off for the southern most parts of The Western Farmlands and the woods that Songbird called home.
Thus, Honeybee took her leave with Songbird and Lilliana to live in amongst the oaks, ash and beeches until she was better. You would have had to have seen these woods to believe them. After a long ride with their two accompanying woodsman and two young squires with sword and bow, they espied a magnificent mature woodland that rose up to meet them. The sun streamed through a dense and grand canopy in a myriad of green hues. Wildlife called out at every turn of path. The birds welcomed Songbird back home and greeted the ladies with their finest melodies and calls. Deer silently peeped through ferns to observe their visitors while red squirrels dashed up and down trees in their excitement. Mice and shrews scuttled along beside The Ride, a grassy track, well-trodden by soft footed ponies. The trees arched above them forming a fresh green tunnel of misty warm air. They knew that the eyes of beautiful woodnymphs were upon them but they were not so rude as to seek them out and stare. Tiny Moonsprites were still sleeping in their flowers, in violas and bluebells, in cowslips and soft roses which grew up the wild apple trees forming their soft and delicate blossoms. As they slept little sleepy melodies came from them because Moonsprites always dream in song.
As they reached a ferny glade they saw Songbird’s little wooden cabin and two other cabins beside. A firepit between the cabins was home to a bubbling kettle and a pot of woodland stew smelling of sweet herbs. Maybell, Songbird’s woodnymph friend, rose elegantly to greet them and Grayling her brother led the horses to their stable where he tended to them. Helibora, their cousin, helped the ladies with their belongings. Honeybee was at the end of her strength and lay beside the fire on a grassy couch. She looked up at the blue sky peeping through the surrounding oak trees and felt the warmth of the sun on her body. After the whole company had settled in, they ate the simple meal beside the fire and rested their tired bodies on the mossy mounds. Each drank deeply on a draught of comforting mead and felt a warm glow come over them as evening fell. Fireflies made circles of dancing light and Songbird lit her pink glass lanterns. A group of nymphs played delicate harp music to them as the birds roosted. All was calm, all was well, for now. The shocks of the past few weeks could not be erased but for now they could put their troubles aside as this was a time to heal and restore, here the woods had everything they needed to make this possible.
Time passed as the days and weeks were spent in woodland glory. The woods gave them all their nourishment for their bodies and spirits. Lilliana and Songbird prepared healing potions and soothing remedies for Honeybee and for any future journeys that they must make.
As Honeybee gathered strength her mother talked to her softly about The melancholy Voice.
“She exists only to mortify you and drive you to despair, her hope is that you will discover The Watery Mermaid to undo you and pull you down, down until you perish, from then you shall rise up above the water, turn to star dust and be part of the fabric of space forever, never to return. No one knows where this wet witch resides, no one knows in which universe she hides. The Melancholy Voice does not possess powerful enough magic to find her but she is powerful enough to harm you and make you frail. Only you can learn to speak back to The Voice. You must learn to command her, you must learn to shout back at her and tell her ‘no’, tell her to fail and wither away to her dark hole. She has left you for now and she always returns as a great and mournful surprise so you must be ready, you must be ready to unleash bitter anger upon her and defy her tricky words. Here is your chance to gather your strength once and for all so that The Melancholy Voice will never take you by surprise again. Do you understand?”
“Yes mother,” replied Honeybee.
Honeybee did not fully understand but she felt that she could almost feel an understanding of what Songbird had told her. She raised herself up and went to sit by the trickling brook. She held her striking face in her strong hands and gazed at the little rays of light coming from the bubbling waters. Throughout that day she scarcely moved and was called home to eat much later in the dim of the evening. She left the others and lay in the cottage. Honeybee emptied her mind and drifted towards an image of a green hill, she stood atop the hill and breathed deeply. She held her arms in front of her and claimed the purity of nature to fill her new forged heart. She leant forward as if to fall, but she did not fall, instead she gently and unsteadily at first, flew upwards, not too high, for if she lost the purity of heart she faltered and drifted towards the ground, but as her heart grew more turquoise and her belief in love filled her soul she could fly slowly onwards and increasingly upwards in circles and waves up and around and beyond gently rolling hills. She was gliding like a beauteous bird on the thermals of love itself. She had been delivered from her pain, from her suffering. Her mother had saved her. He dearest mother had saved her and nature had been her medicine. She descended and lay dazed on her bed for a while. She was not sure if any real time had passed, but she believed herself to have been gone for moments or hours. Walking outside she joined the others at rest, they were enjoying the evening warmth. A few looked up in that concerned way that they always did, then they saw someone new, someone favoured, they saw Honeybee as a woman brimming with poise and grace. Everyone present knew that Honeybee had been through some magical transformation and she glowed with love and strength. Obviously she noticed this and said,
“I know, I know, its extraordinary, but here I am. Pour me a drink someone will you?” and they all laughed. For the first time in weeks Songbird’s shoulders dropped by five full centimetres and her muscles softened, she cried exhausted tears and cheered the others into song. They had a happy and celebratory sing-song in the woods that night and all went to bed rather merry but very happy. Lilliana and Honeybee cuddled up together all night with great love in the big cottage bed. Lilliana had not been sure if she would ever get her friend back but now she had, and more mysterious than that, her friend seemed to possess a glorious power, the power of love, and with Love came Might, and with Might came Strength. Lilliana now believed that they could accomplish their quest, they could go and fight with Demetri, Benedict and all the Kings and ride to rescue Genia wherever she may be.
