The History of Bees

Chapter 49 WILLIAM

The first carriage drove into the yard. My heart leapt, because it was beginning now. I had dressed in my best clothes, neatly ironed and laundered, and my face was freshly shaven, I had even brushed the dust off of my top hat. The guests were arriving and I was ready.

The hives were lined up in two rows on the lowest part of the property. Yes, there were many of them now; Conolly had really had his hands full. The accumulated sound of thousands of bees was so loud that we could hear them from all the way in the house. My bees: tamed by me, my subjects, subjects which in truth also obeyed the smallest of my hand gestures as day after day, each and every one with its tiny offering contributed to filling the hive with shining, amber honey, and not least, did their part for the hive’s growth and development—for even more subjects.

During the past few weeks I had sent out a number of invitations to my very first presentation of “Savage’s Standard Hive.” The invitations had been delivered to local farmers, but also sent to natural scientists from the capital. And to Rahm. I had heard from many, but not from him. But he would no doubt come. He had to come.

Edmund, too, was ready. It was my impression that he had understood that this was serious. Yes, Thilda herself had apparently talked to him. Because it was still not too late, he was young, in that phase of life it was easy to be led astray, seduced by simple pleasures. Follow his passion, he’d called it, an argument I had the very greatest respect for, now it was just a matter of ensuring that he discovered a passion of distinction. My hope for him was that in his encounter with the research, in direct contact with nature, he would be inspired. That the sense of pride I would awaken in him, the pride over being a part of this family, carrying on our name, would lead him back to the straight and narrow path.

Together the women of the family had moved chairs and benches down to the hives. The public would sit there while I gave my presentation. The girls and Thilda had chopped, roasted, boiled and sautéed away in the kitchen for several days. There would be refreshments, of course there would, although the very last of our money, yes, even the tuition money, had been spent. Because it was just a matter of a short-term investment, after this day everything would be resolved, I was convinced of that.

Charlotte had been at my side the entire time. Since that day in the forest we had done everything together. Her serenity infected me, her enthusiasm became my own. This was also her day, but all the same there was a silent agreement that her white beekeeper’s suit was to remain in the clothes chest in the girls’ bedroom. She belonged among the other women, and appeared to have found her place there, with a serving dish in her hand and her cheeks blushing like tea roses. But once in a while she sent me a happy, excited smile, which told me she was looking forward to this with at least as much excitement as I was.

The first carriage stopped in front of me. I prepared myself for a greeting. But then I saw who it was. Conolly, it was only Conolly.

I stuck out my hand, but he didn’t take it, just pounded me on the shoulder.

“Been looking forward to this all week,” he said and smiled. “Never been a part of something like this before.”

I smiled back, tentatively indulgent, didn’t want to say that neither had I, but he jabbed me with his elbow.

“You’re looking forward to it yourself. I can see it.”

So we stood there, jiggling impatiently like two young boys on our first day of school.

First the local farmers arrived—two who already kept bees and one who was thinking about starting up. They walked down to the hives while we waited.

A little later two gentlemen whom I didn’t know arrived on horseback. Both were wearing top hats and riding clothes, and were covered with dust, as if they had traveled a long distance. They dismounted, came towards me and it was only then that I recognized my former fellow students, both with receding hairlines, potbellies and coarse pores on faces full of wrinkles. How old they had become. No, not them, we, how old we had become.

They greeted me, thanked me for the invitation, looked around and nodded in appreciation. They commented upon the types of opportunities found in living like this, at one with nature, instead of the existence they themselves had chosen, in the urban forest where the trees were buildings of brick, the fertile soil was cobblestone and all one saw when one looked up towards the sky were rooftops and chimney pots.

The people streamed in; more farmers, some merely for curiosity’s sake, and even three zoologists from the capital, who came with the morning coach and were dropped off on the road below the property.

But no Rahm.

I hurried inside, checked the clock on the mantelpiece.

I had hoped to start at one o’clock on the dot. Only then, when everyone was in their seat, would I walk down and take my position in front of them. And Edmund, my firstborn, would be there in the audience—he would see me standing in front of everyone.

The time was now one thirty. People were becoming a little impatient. Some discretely fished their pocket watches out of their vests and glanced at them quickly. They had helped themselves to the food and drink that Thilda and the girls had brought around and were presumably quite full. It was hot; several people lifted their hats, took out handkerchiefs and wiped them over damp necks. My own hat was a scorching black ceiling that pressed down upon my head, and made it difficult to think. I regretted my outfit. More and more people looked towards the hives, and subsequently, at me, inquisitively. The conversation, and my own in particular, dried up. I was unable to stay focused on the person listening to me, as my gaze was again and again drawn towards the gate. Still no Rahm. Why didn’t he come?

I’d have to begin nonetheless. I had to begin.

“Get the children,” I said to Thilda.

She nodded. In a low voice she began gathering the girls around her, while Charlotte was sent inside to get Edmund.

I started walking calmly down towards the hives. My audience became aware that something was finally happening. The scattered conversations dissipated and everyone followed me.

“Gentlemen, kindly take your places,” I said and gestured with my arm towards the chairs we had placed down there.

They didn’t need convincing. The benches were in the shade, they had no doubt already been longing to move down there.

When all those present had taken their seats, I saw that we had exaggerated. There were not nearly as many people as expected. But then the girls came, and Edmund also. They did a good job of filling up, spread out haphazardly, as only children can, and closed up the largest gaps.

“So. It looks as if everyone has found a seat,” I said. But I wanted more than anything to scream out the opposite. Because he wasn’t here, without him the day was meaningless. Then I caught Edmund’s eye down there. No, not meaningless. It was, after all, for Edmund I was doing this.

“Then you must just excuse me for one moment while I put on my protective suit.” I attempted a smile. “One is not, after all, a Wildman.” Everyone, even the farmers, laughed, both loud and long. And here I thought that I had served up a witticism for the initiated few, something that would set us apart from them. But it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the hive, and I knew that they had never seen anything like it.

I hurried inside and changed, squirmed out of the heavy wool garments and into the white suit. The thin fabric was cool against my body and it was a relief to take off the black top hat and instead put on the white, lightweight beekeeper’s hat with the gauzy veil in front of my face.

I looked out the window. They were sitting quietly on the chairs and benches. Now. I had to do it now. With or without him. To the devil with Rahm, of course I would manage without the droning of his superior knowledge!

I went outside and down the path to the hives. It had become wider, with wheel ruts from Conolly’s battered-up old wagon, in some places deep holes. I had driven all the way down with the hives, as Conolly did not dare to approach them and I barely managed to get the vehicle up the hill again.

Faces smiled at me, everyone in friendly expectation. It made me feel confident.

And then I stood before them and spoke to them. Finally, for the first time, I could share my invention with the world, finally I could tell them about Savage’s Standard Hive.

Afterwards they all came over, shook my hand, one after the next; fascinating, astonishing, impressive, words of praise were showered on me, I could not distinguish who said what, it was all a blur. But I did pick up on the most important thing: Edmund was there and he saw everything. His gaze was alert and clear, for once his body was neither restless nor lethargic, simply present. His attention was on me, at all times.

He saw everything, all the hands, even the very last hand that was extended towards me.

I had taken off my glove and the cool fingers met mine. A shock went through my entire body.

“Congratulations, William Savage.”

He smiled, not a flash of a smile, but a smile that lingered, that rested on his face, yes, that actually belonged there.

“Rahm.”

He held my hand and nodded towards the hives.

“This was something else altogether.”

I barely managed to speak.

“But when did you come?”

“In time to hear the most important part.”

“I… I didn’t see you.”

“But I saw you, William. And besides…” He stroked the sleeve of my suit with his left hand; I could feel the hairs on my arm underneath stand on end in a marvelous shudder.

“You know I don’t dare to come close to the bees without being properly dressed. That’s why I stayed here, in the back.”

“I didn’t think…”

“No. But here I am.”

He took my hand between both of his own. The warmth from them flowed through me, pumped by my blood out into every single component of me. And out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed Edmund. He was still there, still had his eyes on us, on me, was still just as attentive and alert. He saw.