by Robin Hawdon
There was a long silence. He felt Black Sting stir uneasily behind him. Then the Queen of Queens spoke again.
'I will tell you a story. A story of something that it is said happened long ago. Long before our mound was built or I was born or even the trees that now live about us had grown. A story of when the world itself was young and ignorant and foolish, and the Lord of the Stars had little patience with its ways.
'It is said that then there was a madness over all the world – that it was a place of gigantic storms and upheavals and explosions, and that all the beasts upon it, the Giant Two-Legs, the fourlegged beasts, the serpents and the creatures of the air, all fought constantly with each other, causing the blood to run in rivers and the carrion to litter the whole surface of the earth, more than the scavengers could dispose of.
'And it is said that then the ants were the true leaders of the world, for they were the most numerous, the most intelligent, the most organized and the most peaceable species of all. And they lived and progressed together, male and female in harmony, the females breeding and caring for the young, and the males doing the hunting and fighting and the heavy work. But then the males started to become arrogant, complacent and lazy in their ways. They felt superior in their lofty intelligence over the other species and they forgot the obligations and the responsibility that such a privilege brings. They began to tyrannize their females, their offspring and everyone else around them, to abuse their power, to usurp the forces of Nature and of justice, and to be even more ferocious than the other beasts, and they became greedy for ever more power in the world.
'So then the Lord of the Stars grew angry at their betrayal. He decreed that they should lose their privilege as the chosen species on the earth to others. He decreed that they should no longer be masters even over their own species; that they should retain only their duties as breeders and that their functions as rulers, soldiers, builders, hunters and even as ordinary workers, should be taken away and given to the females. And that the females should have command over all the workings of their colonies, and the males, once they had performed their mating duties, should be banished for ever from their homes, to live alone as best they could, prey to all the beasts of the forest.
'And it is said that that is what happened – that the females divided themselves into different castes to take over the duties of the males; and the castes developed in their different ways to suit those duties – some remaining as females to do the breeding; some forsaking their sex and growing fierce and strong and quick to do the fighting; some becoming steady, efficient and resilient to do the heavy work. And they took their titles away from the males and became masculine even in name. And the pleasure of the companionship between the two sexes was lost for ever to the ants.'
The Queen of Queens stopped talking and in the silence that followed Dreamer's brain was a whirl. Suddenly so many things seemed to make sense. And yet it was such a weird tale.
'Do you believe that story to be true, Great Mother?' he asked.
'Who knows?' she answered. 'There can be truth in a story whether it happened or not, as I believe the ant they call Still One has shown. Many are the stories that have survived out of the mists of time for the truth that is in them, though it will never be known whether they happened as told.' She paused a moment, and Dreamer sensed the passage through the air just over his head of a long, graceful, all-sensing antenna. 'You have many fine qualities, my young Dreamer,' she said. 'Think on the story, and, whether it is true or not, learn what you will from it, as you have learned from all else that has happened to you. For that is way of hope for us.'
She sighed, and there was the faintest hint of weariness in the sigh. 'Go now, Dreamer and my splendid Black Sting. You have much to do to save our beloved colony from the dangers that threaten it. Our safety is in your keeping.'
So the two soldiers took their leave of the Queen of Queens, and made their way back through the Royal Quarters and up to the busy regions of the mound again, where the torn and battle-scarred bodies of Snake's Tongue and Dew-Lover had just been brought in, having been found by a scouting party far out in the wilds of the forest.
21
The colony knew now very clearly of the fearful danger that threatened it. The details of Dreamer's account were spread amongst the ants, from the most reclusive of the elders to the humblest of the workers, with astonishing speed. The fearsome nature of the wounds on the bodies of those two formidable fighters, Snake's Tongue and Dew-Lover, told their own tale. Dew-Lover had now to some extent redeemed himself through his heroic death and the whole adventure entered the annals of the community's history, to be related dramatically to future generations, should there be any. The rebuilding of the damaged part of the hillock went on with yet more urgent haste, though no one was quite certain how that was going to help them: there was just a general feeling now that, if they were all going to have to defend their mound to the death, then they wished it to be a complete mound they were going to die for.
The urgent discussion of what measures should be taken, the speculation as to how long it would be before The Spider's hordes arrived, the wild conjecture as to what would be the fate of all in the settlement, went on in every corner, every chamber and every outside gathering place. Black Sting had ordered lookouts to be posted deep in the forest and upstream as far as the riverside mound, with a system of signalling to relay news of any movement back instantly; but beyond that there was little he could do. The spring days were lengthening and a long, dry warm spell was upon them after the ferocity of the storm – which had assailed their own region as well as that of the red ants – and the first of the new brood of larvae would soon be ready for hatching; but it would be some time before the young ants would be of any use as fighters. Even then, thought Black Sting hopelessly, of what use could they be against these huge, aggressive creatures that would soon be ranged against them?
He realized, deep in his heart, that the problem which confronted them was far more than just a matter of tactics. There were in fact no known battle methods which could be of any use against such an immensely superior force and the dilemma was therefore a philosophical one rather than a merely military one. Did one surrender and beg for mercy? Did one fight to the last dying soul? Did one abandon the mound, the established and deeply loved home of generations of ants and seek some new territory far off? Did one offer appeasement and subservience to the conquerors and condemn all future generations to a life of slavery in return for survival?
Had it been he alone who had to face these questions he knew that, as a fighting ant born and bred, he would not have hesitated but would have chosen to die, defiant to the last, as his two lieutenants had done. But there was not just himself to consider. There was the whole future of the colony. There were the old ants, incapable of fighting, and the young ones, yet to be born. There were the young Queens, gentle, unaggressive, whose only instinct was motherhood and devotion. And lastly there was the Queen of Queens herself, figurehead of creation, of wisdom, of hope, of the whole of life itself. She could never be abandoned to such an end, for that would be an end to everything. To Black Sting, as to everyone else, the problem seemed insoluble.
However, he realized that somehow or other a decision of some nature had to be arrived at. Therefore, on a day when the season had reached the summit of its glory, when life and warmth and greenness were affirming the miracle of creation everywhere outside, he called a select gathering of all the wisest minds in the colony in the darkness of the Council chamber within. Great Head was there and Mutterer and old One Feeler; and so was Noble and his closest aides; and Five Legs with Never-Rest as support; and various others of the elders; and Dreamer too, bringing his knowledge of the enemy at Black Sting's own request. And finally, at the suggestion of Five Legs, there was Still One, who came quietly, diffidently, and stayed in the background at the rear of the assembly.
Black Sting opened the proceedings by recounting his thoughts and explaining in broad terms the
dilemma as he saw it. Then he left the floor free to whoever wished to speak. One after the other the elders took the centre in a motley procession of shuffling, gesticulating, mumbling, declaiming and generally concerned speakers. Occasionally one would turn to Dreamer with an enquiry. How big a force did he think the red ants would bring? How soon? What was the best way of fighting them? – and so on. Now and again, as the discussion went round and round in circles, always seeming to return to the same insoluble crux, Black Sting would intervene because one or other of the speakers was being unduly repetitious or was straying from the point at issue or seemed in danger of being overcome with emotion.
Dreamer, as he listened, was amazed at the divergent views and opinions, at the confusion of logic, and at the general lack of consensus within the assembly. He had always assumed, as a humble outsider, that Council meetings, by the very fact that they were a congregation of the oldest and wisest heads in the community, would be a model of lucid argument and communal decision; but now he began to realize that the more difficult and fundamental the problem, the more diverse and contentious were the attitudes it induced. He could almost hear his Voice whispering to him, 'You see? Nothing is simple. No one is infallible. Listen only to your own conscience; that is the only advocate you can trust.' And even then he felt like asking how, amongst all this gabble, he could possibly be expected to hear what his own conscience had to say.
Broadly speaking, opinion was divided into three main schools of thought. There were those headed by Noble and other officers of the Royal Guard, who felt that the survival of the Queens and their progeny was paramount, and that therefore they should persuade the Queen of Queens to abandon the mound and escort her and the young Queens – carrying as many of the larvae as was practicable – and establish a new home far beyond the range of the red ants. There were those headed by Mutterer and One Feeler and other elders, who felt that reason could always prevail in the end and that they should negotiate terms, however stringent, with The Spider. And there were those – mostly the younger and more militant ones – who saw a betrayal of all principle in any action that did not involve defending the mound to the last dying ant.
In the end it was left to Great Head to sum up all the impassioned arguments and define the enigma before them. He shuffled out into the middle of the floor and the buzz of argument and discussion faded away to a respectful silence. He coughed and fidgeted for a moment, nodded his enormous cranium and then looked round the chamber.
'It seems to me,' he said, 'that when all the talk of strategy and tactics, of diplomacy and intrigue, of rights and wrongs, is over, there are but two choices open to us. Either to die honourably in battle or to live dishonourably in slavery or exile.' He paused a moment to let this sink in, then continued: 'The question then is, which is more, important, life or honour? That is what we have to decide.' Again he paused. There was a hum of discussion. Then he said, 'There is someone here, I believe, who has not yet spoken, and who, I am told, often has remarkably pertinent things to say on such fundamental matters.' He peered shortsightedly round in the dim light and everyone looked about them, wondering who it was he meant. 'Is the ant known as Still One present?' Great Head asked, and there was an immediate ripple of interest.
Dreamer could see Old Five Legs, on the opposite side of the floor, turning and beckoning with his feelers. There was a pause and then a parting in the ranks and Still One stepped diffidently into the space. Great Head gestured to him to come to the centre.
'I have not been privileged to hear any of your famed stories,' he said. 'Nor, I think, have many here. But if you have anything to say that may be of help to us now, then I'm sure we would all welcome it.'
Great Head stepped back to his place at the side of the floor and the slight figure was left alone, looking very small and insignificant in that eminent company. However, that extraordinary quality of calm stillness soon impressed itself on his audience, who waited with hushed expectancy for him to speak. When he did so his quiet voice filled the chamber with ease and soothed the charged atmosphere with its gentle serenity.
'I take no sides in this debate; I cannot persuade; I cannot advise; I cannot argue. I may only listen to the voices of this wise and distinguished gathering – and mourn with them that such a fate should threaten our home, which was built on peace, industry and fellowship – and state my own belief. And in the end each must decide for himself in the light of all that has been said and all that remains unsaid but whispers in the secret places of the heart.' He paused and stared into the distance through the dim light, still as stone.
'I am a tender of an aphid-bug herd. I love my task. It is hard at times, for I work outside close to the wind and the rain and the cold – but I am also close to the warmth of the sun and the scents of the forest and the workings of the Lord of the Stars. It is dangerous at times, for I am easy prey to every passing beast and bird, but I am also in the company of my aphid-bugs, who are the kindest, gentlest, most peaceable of creatures. It is lonely at times, for I work alone above the paths of other ants, but that allows me to listen to the messages of the wind and the songs of the water and the thoughts of my own heart. I would like to tell you a story about a family of aphid-bugs, if you would hear it.'
No one spoke. There was no need of affirmation. He continued with little pause. 'This family lived on the branch of a spruce tree. It was a perfect home: wide, and green, and still; facing the sun and shielded from the wind by a hill; with plenty of food, yet high above the ways of most walking predators, and with many places to hide from winged ones. The family thrived, and multiplied, and had a good life.
'Then one day a party of fierce rove beetles arrived at the aphid-bugs' tree and climbed to the base of their branch, where their leader called out to the leader of the aphid-bugs and said, "We are going to fight you."
'And the leader of the aphid-bugs called back and said, "But we cannot fight. We have never learnt to fight."
'So the rove beetles' leader said, "Then we shall kill you."
'And the aphid-bugs' leader said, "Why?"
'The rove beetles' leader said, "Because we need your territory."
'So the aphid-bugs' leader said, "In that case, you may share it with us. There is room for all."
'But the rove beetles' leader said, "We shall still kill you – because we need food."
'So the aphid-bugs' leader said, "In that case, you may share ours with us. And we will provide you with our own eggs. There is enough for all."
'But the rove beetles' leader said, "We shall still kill you – because we need your honey-dew."
'So the aphid-bugs' leader said, "We shall provide you with honey-dew. As much as you need."
'But the rove beetles' leader said, "We shall still kill you – because you have a different way of life to ours, which we do not know how to share."
'So the aphid-bugs' leader said, "Then we shall explain it to you. And perhaps you may learn some things of interest from us. And perhaps we may learn some things of interest from you."
'Then the rove beetles' leader thought hard but he could think of no other reason to kill the aphid-bugs. So he said, "We shall kill you anyway."
'And the aphid-bugs' leader said, "Why?"
'And the rove beetles' leader said, "Because you are not of our kind – that is why."
'So then the aphid-bugs' leader said, "Ah, that is different. That is pure evil. In that case you shall have none of the things we have offered and we shall fight you after all."
'And, as the rove beetles came along the branch, the aphid-bugs destroyed their honey-dew and their egg-clusters and their food supplies, laid waste the branch and turned to fight the rove beetles. And the rove beetles, led by their leader, slaughtered the aphid-bugs mercilessly until not one was left alive on the branch.
'But when the battle was over, the rove beetles looked about them and saw the devastated tree branch, the ruined egg-clusters and the massacred bodies of the aphid-bugs, and they felt strangely wretche
d and sick in their bowels. And they said, "The aphid-bugs were right. This is pure evil."
'And they turned on their leader and hurled him from the branch to his death below. And then they left the branch and went away and the sickness stayed with them so that they never killed again, not even when they were truly in hunger.'
Still One paused and for a moment there was utter quiet in the chamber. Then there was a movement in the front rank, and Noble stepped forward.
'Yes,' he said, 'that is a good story and I understand the moral it is making. But there is one factor which makes the situation of the aphid-bugs different from our own. They had nowhere to escape to from their branch. We do.' He looked round the chamber and there was a buzz of discussion and bobbing of heads.
Then Still One said, 'There is a part of the story that I have not yet told you,' and immediately there was silence once more.
'A small group of the aphid-bugs had seen the rove beetles climbing the tree and had fled to a higher branch before the beetles arrived. And there they escaped the massacre of their kind, and although they were sad at the death of their kindred, they were relieved that they had been spared.
'But then they discovered that on this new branch there lived a tree-spider, who also threatened to kill them. So they made their escape to the next branch above. But there they discovered that on the branch lived a tree-snake, who also threatened to kill them. So they made their escape to the next branch above. But there they discovered that on the branch was a nest of finches, who also threatened to kill them. And so it was on every branch, until finally they reached the highest limb of the tree; and there at last they found that the branch was empty and, breathing sighs of relief, they settled down to make their new home there.