Samantha Honeycomb

by Scott Zarcinas

  “Alas, it’s not that simple.” Prince Robbee sighed again. “The problem is a legal issue. Once a law is made it cannot be revoked, otherwise my mother would’ve done it a long time ago. Until my father can fly, no bee is allowed to buzz or flap her wings. And if he should die before…” He let that thought slide, then said, “It’s an impossible solution.”

  “It’s not impossible,” Samantha said, already planning how to solve the problem. “Some things at first seem like a dark hole, but you can always avoid a void. All you need is the proper position of your apposition.” Glancing at the ceiling, watching the streams of sunlight through the holes, she told the prince of her encounter with Gerald The Great. “The first step is to build some new wings for the king,” she then said. “The question is, how?”

  “Aye, Samantha, how?” the prince asked. “It’s a question not even the brightest minds in Beebylon can answer. Why do you think you can succeed?”

  “Because if everything happens for a reason, there has to be a Reason Giver, someone who is in ultimate control,” she said. “I now know why the Great Mother has brought me here to Beebylon. To help your father fly.”

  THE GROUP ARRIVED at the palace. It was larger than any of the caves Samantha had so far seen inside Beebylon. A dozen guards stood to attention outside, large carpenter bees that towered over her like the prince. “We call the palace, Honeyrood,” the prince said. “I do hope you’ll feel at home.”

  Samantha, Lizzie and Mad Jack were escorted past the guards and down several winding corridors that tunnelled deeper into the cavern wall. Samantha wondered how the carpenter bees could dig into rock. She was reminded of the tunnels inside the anthill, though where they had been whitewashed and adorned with portraits of Procruste Ant, these tunnels were barefaced rock covered with silky green drapes and portraits of stern-looking kings and queens with names she’d never heard of. The corridors were also higher and wider than in the anthill, presumably to accommodate the greater, physical size of the carpenter bees. Samantha passed many rooms behind closed doors, and many statuettes and busts of more unknown kings and queens.

  The prince then showed Samantha, Lizzie and Mad Jack to their chambers, three adjacent bed-cells along one of the corridors. Samantha couldn’t help but notice the quality of craftwork in her room – the luxurious four-posted bed, the ornately carved frame on the queen’s portrait, the imposing wooden dressing table – even she could tell they were the work of highly skilled carpenters. Though a thin coating of dust covered everything, the wealth that had once existed in Beebylon was obvious. If only she could help the king to fly again. Then the law forbidding flight would be revoked and Beebylon would once again rise to majestic heights.

  The prince told her to put her feet up and relax for a while. Someone would be along to collect her in an hour. He was excited to discuss her plan of building wings for the king. “And there’s no need to wear those overalls,” he said. “You’re not a captive of the ants anymore. You’re a guest of the queen of Beebylon.”

  Barely a minute after the prince and his hunting party left, Samantha heard a knock on her door. Lizzie popped her head in, scratching an itch on her cheek. “Do you have a moment? I need to have a word with you.”

  “Sure,” Samantha said. “What’s the problem?”

  “What’s the problem?” Lizzie said, entering and shutting the door. “Are you joking? This place is a dump.” She spread four of her arms out wide. “Look at this room, everything’s covered in dust. It’s just like the rest of Beebylon. The whole place is rundown. I didn’t leave everything behind for this.”

  Samantha removed her overalls and sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you want us to do? Go back to what we were doing before we met?”

  “It was better in the anthill,” Lizzie said, wiping her claw along the dressing table. It left a thin streak in the dust.

  “I know what you’re afraid of. You always get worried and scared every time you’re going to moult,” Samantha said. “It’s the last time, too, isn’t it? Then you’re going to pupate. You’re afraid because it’s something you can’t control.”

  Lizzie stopped running her claw over the dusty tabletop. “Well, I guess I’m not as perfect as Miss Samantha B. Honeycomb who never gets scared at anything.”

  Samantha felt her wings prickle with anger. She remained silent for a moment, not wanting to say something she would regret later. “I get scared all the time. I wouldn’t be a bee if I didn’t,” she said. “I just try not to let fear dictate what I should or should not do.”

  “Then how do you overcome it?” Lizzie asked, absently scratching her side.

  “If my path is clouded with fear or anger, I pray to the Great Mother to guide me through until it clears,” Samantha said.

  “And what do you think the Great Mother wants us to do now?” Lizzie asked.

  “Your path is your path,” Samantha said, matter of fact. “I cannot tell you what to do. All I know is that the Great Mother wants you to be the best caterpillar you can be. You know in your heart what that is. Whether or not you allow the Great Mother to guide you is up to you. As for me, I believe She has led us here for a reason, to help the king to fly. The prince will be calling for us in less than an hour to discuss further plans. You have until then to decide if you want to be a part of it.”

  Lizzie then left to go back to her room and think about what Samantha had said, scratching one of her legs as she went.

  WITHIN THE HOUR, as arranged, a palace servant came to escort them to the prince’s chamber. Samantha was glad when Lizzie stepped out of her bed-cell. She was also surprised to see she was no longer wearing her overalls. Mad Jack, however, was still wearing his. At the end of the corridor, they arrived at a set of double doors. Two guards stood to attention outside it and allowed them entry.

  The prince’s room was like Samantha’s, only bigger and grander, with more silky drapes and portraits and statuettes, and a four-posted bed that was at least twice as big. The prince was sitting behind a large desk. On top of the desk was a bunch of scrolls and some pencils. He stood and greeted the guests, wasting no time in getting down to work.

  “Before you tell me your plans, let me show you one of my own designs,” he said, unrolling one of the scrolls. “As you can see, it’s in the shape of a bee. The pilot sits in the abdomen section and uses levers to flap the wings.” Then he stopped, just sighing at the drawing. “Alas, it failed to get off the ground, just like all the other ones we built.”

  He unrolled several more scrolls. All the designs, Samantha saw, were one variation or another of the first. “The main problem we’re facing is weight,” he said. “The pilot can’t flap fast enough to get off the ground. We make all the prototypes out of Beebylonian honeywood, which is exactly the type of wood you need to build a flying machine, light and strong, but even then it’s too heavy. We don’t know where to go next. We’re just going round and round in circles. It’s all amounted to nothing.”

  Something is nothing and nothing is something, Gerald The Great had said. “It’s not completely nothing,” Samantha said. The prince looked up from his scrolls. “You’ve eliminated several options. That’s at least something.”

  “What do you propose, then?” he asked.

  “The proper position of our apposition.” She pointed high toward the ceiling. “Kite gliding!” she said.

  All eyes turned up to where she was pointing, then returned. The prince’s expression was blank. “What, may I ask, is a kite?”

  “A flying machine,” Samantha said. “One that’s so light it can glide on currents of air. All it requires is for the wind to blow. Its wings are fixed, so it needs no levers to flap, or anything else for that matter. I believe it’ll solve the problems you’ve been facing.” She stepped right up to the desk. “Let me show you what I mean.”

  Samantha asked the prince to unroll a blank scroll and grabbed a pencil. She then sketched a diagram of the kite she had seen flying outside the hive, the s
ame one she had also examined the day she was escorted to the Crazy Lands. It was a simple design, a wing-sheet made of light material that would be cut into a diamond and fixed upon a frame of crossing wooden beams. The king would hang beneath the kite in a harness made from Samantha’s overalls and fixed to the crossbeams. As an added precaution, the kite would be tethered to a pulley mechanism so that it couldn’t fly away.

  “There will have to be test flights, of course,” she said, “before it’s safe for the king.”

  The prince nodded thoughtfully.

  “He won’t buzz through the forest like he did before the….” She didn’t dare say the dreaded word. “But all things considered,” she said, “it’s probably the king’s best chance of ever flying again.”

  Samantha put the pencil down. All agreed that it was a mighty fine proposal. The prince was sure King Bernard would be delighted, and would seek his immediate counsel. Nothing could go ahead until he and the queen gave their royal approval, so with Samantha’s scroll of the new flying machine in his grasp, Prince Robbee led Samantha, Lizzie and Mad Jack down several corridors to the throne room. He harried ahead of them, eager to tell the king of the new plan.

  Samantha followed, nervous at the prospect of meeting the king and queen. After all, her last encounter with a monarch hadn’t ended so well, had it? She had to keep reminding herself that she hadn’t broken any laws of this hive.

  Nonetheless, she still felt intimidated: experience had taught her that the unexpected could occur at anytime, anywhere.

  THEY ARRIVED AT a set of high double doors, outside which stood four guards. The prince pushed past them and burst into the throne room without waiting to be announced.

  “Father!” he said, holding the scroll aloft. “I have the answer we’ve been looking for.”

  Samantha and her friends entered behind him, awestruck. The throne room was as opulent as anything she had seen. The high vaulted ceiling, the two grandiose thrones, the servants (almost as motionless as the statues of kings and queens lining the walls), the waxed floors that reflected her face like the still surface of the lake, it was just as she imagined the most important chamber in the whole of Beebylon should be. It was a little overwhelming, actually.

  Upon the thrones sat Queen Beelinda and King Bernard, muted and unsmiling. Though the queen sat proudly, her back straight, her head held high, the king looked weak and frail. He struggled to keep his head aloft, as though it was made of rock. Bent forward, he gripped the armrests to prevent himself from toppling off. The prince was right, Samantha mused. The plan had to succeed, and soon.

  Prince Robbee strode across the wide floor to the thrones, unrolling the scroll as he went. He explained the design and the technical details to the king and queen, who listened patiently, nodding almost imperceptibly now and then, waiting until their son had finished everything he wanted to say.

  “All we need is your blessing,” the prince said.

  The king seemed troubled by a thought. When he finally lifted his heavy head to speak, his voice was slow and strained. “Who will operate this… this kite, as you call it?” he asked.

  The prince was about to answer. “I’ll pilot it,” said Samantha, stepping forward. She’d been ready for that question. “It’s my design. If something should happen during the test flight, it’s my responsibility.”

  A faint smile flickered on the old face. “You will need materials,” the king said.

  Samantha had spent the time in her bed-cell preparing a mental list of what she would need. She told the queen and king that Mad Jack would collect honeywood for the frame, and with their permission, she would use silk from the palace for the wing-sheet. What they couldn’t get in Beebylon they could get from the ants. Lizzie would go as she had the best relationship with them.

  “We’ll also need some honey,” Samantha said. “The ants won’t even think of trading without it.”

  Head still bent forward, the king looked at the queen. A silent communication passed between the two. “Beebylon isn’t as rich as it once was,” the queen then said. “The last of our honey reserves ran out last year. We’re virtually bankrupt.”

  The situation was direr than Samantha had reckoned. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll just have to think of a way to make a trade without honey.”

  “My hunting party will accompany Lizzie, just in case,” the prince said. “We don’t want the ants to arrest her again. She’ll be safe.”

  Samantha nodded. It was a good idea. Next to her, Lizzie was scratching an itch on her abdomen. There was only one last thing to organise. “Prince Robbee, you and I shall be responsible for the main construction of the flying machine,” she said. “Your skills as a carpenter are vital. It cannot be built without you.”

  Prince Robbee smiled, and the force of his gaze caught Samantha by surprise. “My dear damsel, it cannot be built without you.”

  He then thanked his parents and bade them goodnight. Though only just detectable, Samantha could feel the heavy sense of despair lifting from the room as he escorted her, Lizzie and Mad Jack out into the corridor. The smile on the prince’s face was with him every step of the way back to their bed-cells, as if all his Great Mother Days had come at once.

  “Tomorrow,” he said at Samantha’s door, “we begin construction on a magnificent flying machine.”

  THE NEXT DAY, Prince Robbee gained the queen’s approval for the requisition of an abandoned cave high upon the cliff, an old hiveware factory that had fallen upon hard times. The cave was ideal for the assembly of the flying machine, spacious, dry and hidden from prying eyes. It also had a view across the lake that was simply stunning. The prince posted a dozen guards at the entrance with orders that only he, Samantha, Lizzie, and Mad Jack were allowed entry. The building of the kite was top secret.

  For the next week, they busied themselves with the tasks they had been assigned. Lizzie left immediately with the hunting party to trade with the ants. Mad Jack went in search of honeywood, after the prince explained what to look for, the shape and colour of the leaves, the texture of the bark, its size (“They grow no taller than the height of this ceiling inside the factory,” he said), and instructed him on the use of an axe. Mad Jack told them not to worry; he would get what they needed. Then he went missing for three days.

  In the meantime, Samantha and the prince set to work designing the specifics of the flying machine and making small models from bits of materials lying in and around the cave, tasks that took longer than she had reckoned upon.

  “You seem to know so much about flying,” the prince said on the third afternoon.

  Samantha waved away his compliment, flushing coyly, which, she noticed, was becoming more and more of a regularity whenever the prince was near. His presence seemed to make her claws tremble and her wings flutter, like a little grub falling hopelessly antennae over stinger in love with a famous celebrity. Why was she like this? Was it his looks: his height, his strength, his attractive eyes and smile? Or was it his enthusiasm to make life better for his subjects? Or was it simply because he was the prince of Beebylon, straight out of a fairytale?

  The prince picked up the model of the kite they had just completed (they’d finally got it right on the seventh try), turning it over front and back. “Are you sure it’ll fly?” he asked. “I’m worried for your safety when you take it for a test flight. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you as it did my father.”

  Samantha eyed the model flying machine. It had every detail – diamond-shaped wing-sheet, wooden crossbeams, hanging harness – and although she had a nagging sense that something was missing, she was more than happy with the result.

  “Did you know that it’s theoretically impossible for a bumblebee to fly?” she said. “But they do. Isn’t that amazing?”

  She glanced up, and was once again struck at the force of his gaze. “Aye, amazing it is,” he said. “It’s also amazing that you are completely unaware of your beauty.”

  Now she did blush
. She could feel her cheeks burn, as if she had sat too close to a campfire, and her claws began to tremble again. “I… I… I must go and check on the material for the wing-sheet,” she said, and went to the back of the cave.

  She spent the rest of the day sorting through the boxes of silk drapes the prince had ordered, some she recognised as coming straight from the very corridors of Honeyrood. She examined every strip of material, meticulously checking for holes or signs of weakness, but she knew she was overdoing it. She was simply avoiding contact with the prince. What was happening? Her emotions were soaring. Worse, she had no control over them, like she’d been lifted to the heavens on a sudden gust of wind and now couldn’t get back down.

  It was better not to think about it, so she returned to sorting the same silk drapes over and over again. The prince was at the mouth also pretending to be busy, toying with the model kite. To her relief, Mad Jack arrived that evening with a bundle of wood on his back. She saw him glance from her to the prince, then back again, cocking his antennae, and felt her face begin to flush once more.

  “I found some honeywood trees on the other side of the lake,” he said, setting the bundle down at the entrance. There was a strange glint in his eyes. “I need help to bring the bigger pieces back. They’re too heavy.”

  “Let me see what you’ve got,” the prince said, dropping the model and hurrying over. “Aye, it’s perfect. Light and strong. Look Samantha.”

  She came over and examined the wood, but not before sharing a quick, tentative glance with the prince. “Well done,” she said to Mad Jack. “Maybe the prince can organise for one of his servants to help you collect the rest.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the prince said. “I will go with Mad Jack myself.” He laid a friendly arm on Mad Jack’s shoulder. “But let’s wait for the morrow. It’s been a long day. We need to rest and eat and regain our strength.”