The Lords of Blood and Honey (The Kingdom of Honey)

by David Gardner-Martin

  For a time, he dared not move, but when a burst of light from the Green Sun pricked the horizon, he saw the remains of a crossbow bolt on the cobbles before him. He bent down and picked up the deadly projectile. Such a small object, and powerless now within his hand, but what deception was held within its vicious symmetry. He stared at the cruel barbs carved into the metal tip and saw streaks of bright red blood. The bolt had found a mark, and just as with Sideswipe, had been broken as it was ripped from yielding flesh. He stood up and saw the tell-tale signs of a struggle in a pool of blood, then bloodied footprints leading away into the City. It was clear that Ramuth-Pro had been dreadfully wounded, maybe even killed, and then dragged to an unknown fate.

  Pooter hesitated once more, his mind racing from one uncertainty to the next. But then at last he reasoned that just another proletaire boldly heading off to work would be ignored, and with a barely whispered ‘Oh my,’ he strode into the growing light, his heart pounding and his mind praying with all its might, that he would find his family safe and well in Dutiful Crescent.

  Chapter 38

  His clear green eyes were first to capture Allessia’s attention. Even from across the Queen’s Chamber, they shone like emeralds. The young man walked with an easy yet purposeful gait, his robes of high office flowing gently behind him. But these were not the hated grey vestments of the Holy Church of Afterwards that she knew from Forster Culcuth and his kind, for these were gentle fabrics, as light as air and awash with the colours of life. His head was shaved on top, as was more often seen with Spouts or Forsters, but this man was clearly quite different to those vindictive monsters, for his face was open, handsome, and most strange of all, smiling, something Allessia had never seen before on the features of any member of the Clergy.

  ‘My Lady,’ the man said, bowing once he stood before her, and instinctively she held out her left hand towards him. He took it gently and turning it, kissed her palm. Allessia went to blush, but barely audible giggles from her femones strengthened her resolve, and she merely smiled in return. Besides, she had once heard of kissing palms as an ancient form of homage, and taking it as thus, she replied warmly; ‘You are welcome, Pontinal Bartolamy,’ for she had already been alerted to his appointment and been ready to receive the head of the new Honeyist Church for some time.

  ‘My humble apologies for my delayed arrival, My Lady,’ said Bartolamy, standing upright once more and staring into her eyes. She met his gaze and for a moment they were connected by the utter stillness that such a simple shared action can bring, but when Allessia felt her violet eyes begin to open to him, the young Pontinal blinked and the spell was broken.

  ‘I am sure you must be very busy,’ Allessia said. ‘But, what must I call you?’

  ‘My name is Bartolamy, My Lady,’ Bartolamy replied. ‘But if you ask of me my title, it is My Pontifect, or Your Elevence.’

  ‘Elevence?’ Allessia replied. ‘That is a new word to me.’

  ‘Indeed for me also. For there are many new things for us all to learn in Her Glorious Kingdom.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care much for titles. So if I may, I will call you Bartolamy. But you must call me Allessia in return. I shall insist upon it.’

  ‘As Your Ladyship…,’ a pause accompanied by a disarming smile, ‘…as you wish, Allessia.’

  They sat upon large gilded eiderdown cushions and refreshments were served. Allessia was still puzzled by the way in which she seemed to know what to say and do. No one had taught her. But such was her delight in feeling confident in herself, that she did not give the matter any great thought. Her illustrious visitor and the new religion he served, was of far greater interest. And besides, she reasoned to herself, once she had gained his openness, there would be time to ask more searching questions about her own predicament

  ‘Pray, Bartolamy, tell me about Honeyism,’ she said. ‘I know little about it as I was only instructed in the ways of the Holy Church of Afterwards. And I hated that!’ She could not resist pulling a disgusted face, but quickly recovered her composure. ‘I know the Royal Honeybees, of course, and love them dearly. And of the beautiful honey they create, though I have yet to see or taste it. Is it really so wondrous on the imagination? And She that orchestrates its creation. Is She really ever-present in that golden liquid?’

  ‘Well,’ said Bartolamy sitting forward. ‘If I had the whole day to sit here with you, Allessia, and nothing else to do, I doubt I should have time to deal with all those questions. For the answers are the very bedrock of the Honeyist faith.’

  For a moment Allessia felt piqued, but it did not last but a second before Bartolamy continued.

  ‘But let me do my best. You were right to despise The Holy Church of Afterwards; it was the proper thing to do with such a travesty. It was a religion built upon written words and led by fear, suffering, and most hateful of all, profit. The incarceration of the Innocents in the Hellholes to be tortured through the Sacrament of Indemnification, is just one of its many heinous crimes. Those that controlled and grew it through their dark deceptions, sought to deny the wondrous gifts that She has bestowed freely upon us all. Love, Beauty, and even Desire, were treated as evils to be used and abused. But now that the glory of Reformation is upon us, its days are over. Lord Hardknot, through the trust She has shown in him, will bring the one true religion to the centre of all our lives.’

  ‘I have met Lord Hardknot. He seems a very…powerful man.’

  Bartolamy smiled. ‘He is that, Allessia, but so much more. He truly walks in the light of Her love. It is he who has sent me to request you visit him in the Hivedom this very day.’

  ‘The Hivedom! That is something I long to do!’ Allessia exclaimed, not anticipating a sudden dark sensation that grew deep within her. She heard Lord Hardknot’s voice yet again, she felt his kiss, and all her butterflies took flight once more. But then Bartolamy continued.

  ‘Honeyism is truth. It really is as simple, and as sublime, as that. It is not about words, doctrines, or any base emotions, such as fear, guilt or suffering. It is about what we feel, innately, within our very souls. Love needs no words; Beauty no doctrine. They are so far beyond those earthly constructions as to defy comprehension. And we do not need to try and understand Desire, an impossible task that can lead only to deception. We must simply accept them as gifts. All we have to do is be open to Her Love, and She will freely give us all we could ever need.’

  ‘Well, I do love beauty,’ said Allessia, ‘and the honeybees too, so I think that Honeyism will suit me very well indeed.’ She smiled, and then judging the moment to be right, spoke a question that echoed in her head like a bell.

  ‘I am told I am a femone that was lost, but has now been found. Do you know of these things?’

  There was a moment of stillness, Bartolamy’s faced clearly troubled by a question he had not been anticipating.

  ‘I know that you are a person of the rarest heritage,’ he replied at last. ‘I have heard Lord Hardknot speak of it. But more than that, I do not know. His Oneness will be able to answer all your questions, I am sure.’

  ‘He has also told me that I shall be his Queen,’ Allessia pressed on. ‘Do you know of this?’

  Once again Bartolamy paused before answering, as if making sure the words he used were the right ones, in the circumstances.

  ‘For the Kingdom to remain in order, there must be a King; and a King must have a Queen.’

  ‘I am sad that so many people have died in this, Reformation, as you have called it,’ said Allessia, ‘My parents too, are both dead it would seem. I do not know what happened to them, or why, but I know I shall never see them again.’

  ‘Then they will be in Her Kingdom, Allessia.’

  ‘Can you be so sure of that?’

  ‘When we leave this life, our soul is gathered by a honeybee and taken to Her. We cannot hope to comprehend what happens to us after that, for it is a journey to a single moment that exists outside the sphere of our reality. We know only that we will return,
again and again, to this temporal place, to learn once more. And as each life is lived and left behind, so do we edge ever closer to our immortal destiny.’

  ‘That is a great comfort to me, Bartolamy,’ Allessia said, staring into his deep green eyes once more. ‘The parents who raised me were not perfect, but they meant well. And despite my loathing of the Church, and of its hateful servants, I would not wish any of them everlasting harm. No one deserves that.’

  Allessia saw a troubled countenance fall across Pontinal Bartolamy’s fine features.

  ‘Have I said something wrong,’ she asked.

  ‘You have not,’ replied Bartolamy, but still Allessia sensed that something had changed in the man before her.

  The troubled look was still on Pontinal Bartolamy’s face some hours later as their carriage approached the Hivedom. He still spoke to her with kindness, but the brightness that had shone within his green eyes had now dimmed. She had said something she now regretted, but had no idea what it was.

  Her concerns vanished, however, as the small retinue of carriages swept through the open gates of the Hivedom. Autumn was in its zenith and the rich coppers, auburns, yellows and reds, all swept together in an endless variety of shades, overwhelmed her. It was as if an artist with an infinite paint box had been challenged to defy comprehension, and won.

  She stared over the rich fields of Royal Clover in the pure white light of day, the infinite pink petals absorbing all the riches of the season. She saw beehives, as far as her eyes could see to a distant horizon. Around the closest ones she could see Royal Honeybees as they worked tirelessly for the good of their community. Walking between the hives were workers whom she took to be the beekeepers. They wore rough tunics and were totally absorbed in their tasks. The air was filled with a deep humming, a symphony of sound she had heard before, but never with such a depth of power. But most of all, an aroma of persistent sweetness surrounded her, the like of which she had never imagined possible. She sensed it all, as if in an instant, and every time she blinked and opened her eyes again, it was like the first time she had experienced it once more, over and over, on an endless wave of wonder.

  ‘Why must such beauty be hidden?’ she cried at length, turning to Bartolamy, but to this question he gave no answer, but continued to stare resolutely out of the opposite window, as if watching the departure of a loved one or the death of a friend.

  The Grand Hive dominated the sky before them. Allessia had seen it from a distance many times, but only now did she see the hexagonal surface that gave to the tower the strength to soar so high. Powerful warriors with huge axes bowed as they drew closer.

  ‘Who are they?’ she asked.

  ‘They are the Hivecarls, Allessia,’ Bartolamy replied, following her gaze. ‘The personal bodyguards of the Keeper of the Royal Honeybees.’

  They left the carriage and entered the Grand Hive, all Allessia’s senses heightened to a new level of wonder as she struggled to absorb the scene unfolding before her. Several of her femones who had followed in a separate carriage, joined her in admiring a magnificent jeweled atrium. As if on an unheard command, all their heads tipped backwards to stare up at a distant hexagonal ceiling covered in beautiful paintings of the natural world. At length, a man in a plain white tunic marched across the marble floor to take Allessia and her small retinue to Lord Hardknot. Pontinal Bartolamy bowed to take his leave.

  ‘Are you not coming with me?’ Allessia asked, taken aback that Bartolamy was to abandon her in such a place.

  ‘I must attend services within the new Cathedral, Allessia. But you need have no fear. And I will visit you again soon, if you would permit me?’

  ‘Oh Please!’ Allessia exclaimed. ‘I mean…that will be most welcome, Bartolamy. I have enjoyed our first meeting.’

  ‘My Lady,’ said Bartolamy, bowing with returning formality, but as he turned to walk away, Allessia saw a depth of sadness fall over his countenance once more.

  It was not until the purple light had faded, that Allessia found herself staring at her face in a mirror once more. The chamber she had been taken to contained every comfort, including huge windows that commanded spectacular views in every direction over the Hivedom and the City beyond, but now that night had fallen, she wondered how much longer she would have to wait for something more to happen. It was all very disconcerting.

  She saw Lord Hardknot enter her chamber in the reflection. Her femones each stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads, there being something instantly commanding about the tall man with selenite-grey eyes that walked before them.

  ‘You may leave Her Ladyship,’ he said, as he passed them by, and without even a look at Allessia, they filed silently through the open door.

  Allessia watched them go, her emotions flying in so many directions that she scarce could breathe. Everything seemed to happen so quickly when she was in his presence.

  ‘Your Oneness,’ she said bowing, for at least that simple action gave her time to try and clear her head and calm her beating heart.

  Several drollups laden with food and drink entered the chamber. A table was laid and they exited the room. Hardknot approached the overpowering display of treats and made a few minor adjustments.

  ‘Please be seated,’ he said at last, indicating a chair, and Allessia moved to a soft fur seat and sat down as requested. She was not particularly hungry or thirsty, but at least having a meal would provide something to help fill the uncertainties spinning in her head. The taste and smell of the fresh fruits and cured meats were more pleasant than she could ever remember, and for a moment she forgot the presence of someone close by watching her intently. Finally, she lifted a small jar into her hands containing a clear golden liquid that seemed to glow through her fingers. She knew at once what it was and her heart raced within her. She looked up at Hardknot and received a gracious nod in return.

  ‘It is yours to enjoy, Allessia,’ he said gently.

  She lifted the lid and the sweetest aroma wafted into her nostrils and down into her body. She took a small spoon and placed it against the surface of the honey, allowing it to fall under its own weight into the richness beneath. She withdrew the spoon and closing her eyes, placed it in her mouth. For what seemed an age Allessia floated in a sea of pleasure that filled her being entirely. Even time itself seemed to stand still. Then as the warmth faded, she opened her eyes.

  ‘It is beautiful,’ she said, licking the spoon before placing it in the honey to take some more.

  ‘The Royal Honeybees have perfection within their nature,’ said Hardknot. ‘Only they can gather the temporal fruit of soil bound flowers, and transform it into the spiritual fruit of Her heavenly love. Once sweet, now pure; Once liquid, now ethereal; Once living, now life giving’

  ‘I have not heard those words before,’ said Allessia, after another spoonful every bit as captivating as the first. ‘Who wrote them?’

  ‘They are the spoken words of Jasmine Parthanter, the greatest of all the Honeyist Poets. She was martyred by the Holy Church of Afterwards. After her death, though she never wrote down a single word, all her works were banned on pain of death.’

  ‘How then, do you know them?’

  ‘Not even the servants of Cardinal Oblong can control that which is written in our hearts. And now that the Church has been removed from our lives, they can be restored to our Kingdom. For I have them all kept safely within me.

  ‘May I hear another?’

  ‘In time I will speak them all to you, Allessia, and you will love them as surely as I do. They are few in number, but are more perfect than books could ever be.’

  Allessia stood and walked to an open window. It was a gentle night, with little to disturb the air. The ever-present hum of the honeybees was now subdued; most had now returned to the warmth of their hives. There was a clear sky, with stars twinkling against a pure black canvas. It was a firmament she knew well, and she allowed her eyes to wander over the patterns that shaped its many forms. Some constellations she knew
well: Apamese, the Honeybee; Trifolias, the Flower; Maluscher, the Tree. Many she had still to learn or even see. But each had a territory that defined their influence on those that lived below and stared up in wonder. How she wished that they could speak to her; tell her who she was, and what she must do.

  From the corner of her eyes she saw Lord Hardknot stand and move towards her.

  ‘Do you know the stars?’ he asked, joining her in staring up at the night sky.

  ‘I often used to sit at my window and study them. My father knew them well, and when he was not too busy, he would join me and tell me their names.’

  ‘Names can be deceptive,’ said Hardknot. ‘Better to know things by how they make you feel.’

  Allessia stared deeper into the sky. ‘They make me feel sad,’ she said at last.

  ‘Sadness always accompanies our longing for understanding.’

  ‘Why should that be?’

  ‘We are far from home, Allessia, and deep within our core, we want to return to that place from whence we came. But we want certainty too; to know where we have come from, and to where we are bound. And when that is denied to us, as it must be within this life, we feel a sense of loss.’

  ‘Do the stars make you sad?’

  ‘They make me rejoice. If I can see them, I am alive, and filled with possibility.’

  ‘You are…very different, Your Oneness,’ said Allessia, lowering her eyes from the sky. ‘I have not met anyone like you before.’

  ‘As are you, Allessia.’

  Allessia turned to face him, and as she did so, he took her hands gently into his own.

  ‘You are confusing me,’ she said, but did not try to take her hands away, for there was something about the man before her, his bright grey eyes, his ice clear voice, even just his presence, that caused her to tremble with excitement.

  ‘Inevitability has no need of confusion,’ whispered Hardknot, moving closer still. ‘For what shall be, shall be, Allessia. And you shall be my Queen.’