The Triple Goddess

by Ashly Graham

  Waggle Dances were performed on the dance floor in the centre of the deck, by describing figure of eight patterns that varied in size according to how far away the place was, and its direction in relation to the sun.

  Clarissa did stretching exercises, to limber up for the job of carrying sacs of pollen back to the hive throughout the day. She smoothed her wings, and combed her furry body and the hairs on her legs, with which she’d brush into her body baskets the golden dust from the stamens and anthers in the flowers. She recalled which flowers contained the kind of nectar the hive particularly prized, and those that were no good, and those that would do at a pinch when nothing else was available.

  Above all, Clarissa would not forget to shout, “I claim this field for my hive”, should she be so lucky as to find a meadow, garden, or flowery bower within the white space on the hive’s maps that was marked Terra Incognita, or unexplored territory, which had not already been appropriated by a rival hive.

  That morning, Clarissa’s parents fussed around her as much as if she’d already won an award. They had hardly slept, and were up very early sipping weak nectar tea to calm their nerves. Her brothers and sisters helped her to prepare, ensuring that she was neat and proper in her black and gold uniform. They made her a substantial breakfast of honeycomb pancakes with clover syrup, to fortify her for the long day ahead.

  Despite being nervous, Clarissa was determined not to disappoint her parents...for she didn’t know that she was a foundling...by letting the hive down. She wanted to be a credit to them all.

  Just before sunrise, after wishing the novice bee good luck before she went to report for duty, the members of her family went to the flight deck where, upon presenting their one-day pass, they were ushered into a special section where they might observe Clarissa’s departure and return, to the other end of the flight deck.

  When incoming laden bees landed, they headed to the quality control stations, where receiving agents examined the nectar and pollen that they’d brought, and made sure it was of sufficient quality to meet the standards of the hive. Once a consignment had been certified Grade A, each bee was given a ticket to take to one of the unloading bays, where she—for all were girls like Clarissa—was relieved of her cargo, so that it might be sent down for processing and storage in the honeycomb vaults.

  After performing on the waggle dance platform, if it was warranted, the bee would go back out on another nectar run, and then another, and keep going until sunset and it was too dark to see.

  To general relief, the weather bees, after they’d waved their antennae in all directions to test the direction of the wind and the levels of humidity and air pressure, predicted that the conditions were going to be salubrious all day. So the controllers signalled that the bees should form up in squads, preparatory to lifting off from the flight deck in the departure zone, and heading for their allotted quadrants of territory, where they would spread out and begin scouring the area for flowers.

  There followed a brief ritual at which the hive’s flag was raised, and an Elder bee from the royal household, the Queen’s Chamberlain, read a passage from the History of the Hive.

  Then, with a shout from all present, Clarissa and the others lifted off into the morning air.

  She was a little erratic at first, but quickly gained confidence and got herself under control. As her parents and brothers and sisters watched, with their hearts in their mouths, they crossed their legs in so many places that they were in danger of tying themselves into granny knots. They would remain on tenterhooks until she was home safely.

  Up and up Clarissa flew. As the temperature warmed she tasted different spores and pollens, including some flavours that she recognized, from the specimens she’d sampled during her education, as being those the hive was most desirous of adding to its reserves. Already she could tell where the flowers were that had produced them, and as soon as she landed she would release pheromones to mark the site, so that the other bees, after she’d given them directions in a waggle dance, would know when they neared it.

  Homing in with wings a-blur, Clarissa sang the hive’s anthem at the top of her voice:

  Together we plunge

  Into the flowers’ hearts

  To extract the essence of perfection:

  Such is our mission’s holiness

  And the vows we’ve sworn

  To joyfully dedicate ourselves

  To the cause of the hive.

  The bees’ benignant legacy

  Is the gift of impermanence

  In the image of a Maker, full of

  Mysterious flux and purity, of

  Sweet and beckoning clarity.

  From below, Clarissa heard a faint response, just as she’d been taught to expect from the flowers that, in the immemorial sympathy between plant and bee, were spreading their petals and inviting her into their shells. Sang the flowers:

  What summer dreams are nectared

  Here? Hurry now and find us, bee,

  Before animation fades and we

  Go to ground in hibernation.

  Never forget, O Humble-bee,

  Us tresses of the sun. It is no

  Whim whereby we offer up

  Our promiscuous cavities to you,

  For oft-repeated visitations

  That celebrate fertility

  And the melliferous

  Nourishment of inconstancy.

  Then something strange happened. Clarissa became aware of an unpleasant buzzing, much louder than that made by any bee. It had nothing to do with the intelligence being picked up by her antennae, and the buzzing seemed to originate in her head. The vibrations got louder and louder...until suddenly they stopped, and Clarissa heard a voice saying:

  “Surely you were cut out, Clarissa, for a different life than this? It isn’t right for you to be doing such a menial and repetitive task, which will wear you out in no time, and ruin you for better things. Why don’t you take the soft option and go and rest below, and wait for the day’s confusion to end?”

  Bemused, the young bee thought, “My, what a lot of traffic there is today, now that the sun’s out. I seem to be picking up somebody else’s message, and must be sure to report the interference to the hive when I get back. If that was a bee talking, it was a very disloyal bee, one deserving of the severest censure. Or maybe it was a competitor from another hive, trying to put me off my work.”

  The buzzing returned, and again there was the voice in her ear, this time more insistent:

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? Wouldn’t you like to go and lie down before the temperature rises still further, and the air is filled with crowds of bees bumping into each other, and getting their frequencies in a muddle? If you did as I suggest perhaps this noise would stop. As it is, although you’ve only just started, you’re already beginning to feel ill from exertion.”

  Clarissa nearly fainted at the treasonous suggestion. She was indeed suddenly feeling unwell, and with her head spinning she lowered herself in circles to the ground.

  She landed in the middle of a small field that was overgrown with weeds around hard barren patches of earth, mole hills, and worm casts. A goat and a donkey were munching thistles. A rabbit nibbled dandelion leaves on the bank at the side of the field, where it was shadier; and a dunnock or hedge-sparrow, and a field mouse, foraged for seeds in the hedgerow above it.

  High above, swallows scythed the sky and snatched insects, of which there were more as the day continued to heat up, from the air.

  Here there were no bees, for there were no flowers.

  Clarissa remained motionless in the thistly field. Although the voice had stopped, she still felt sick, and her headache didn’t lessen because as the sun got higher and higher it got hotter. A column of ants passed by, ignoring her because they were occupied in transporting a beetle carcase. There was a constant chafing of grasshoppers; an earwig blundered into her and moved on; a spider ascended a blade of crabgrass on its way to nowhere. Fortunately, for Clarissa found herse
lf unable to move, the goat and the donkey did not come close enough to tread on her.

  Morning became afternoon, and eventually the shadows began to lengthen as the sun declined to the west. It was only with the lessening of the heat that Clarissa’s head began to clear, and in the distance she could hear, or imagined that she heard, the hum of her fellow bees in more fruitful pastures and gardens, as they continued to go diligently about their business. Although she felt better, she was miserable because she knew that the best nectar would have gone: there would be no glory of discovery for her, or even the tired satisfaction of a day well spent in the service of the hive.

  Now that Clarissa’s senses were restored, she was in agony, thinking of how the looks of relief in her parents’ faces, when she got back and they knew that she was safe, would turn to astonishment at seeing that her pollen baskets were empty. Instead of nectar, she would bring disgrace and shame to the hive, as soon as it was confirmed that she wasn’t injured, or had some other reason or excuse for her prolonged absence. It would be better for all if she stayed where she was, and died.

  But with a heavy heart and great effort, slowly after several unsuccessful attempts to lift her unwilling but still dutiful body, Clarissa managed to climb into the air. Then, although she was already out of breath and her head was aching again, she flew around in circles until she got her bearings, and headed home.

  ’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘

  When Clarissa landed with a thump, the last to return to the hive, she saw that, in addition to her parents and family, and those of other novice bees, there were a number of male drone hive officials waiting for her with stern looks on their faces. Clarissa’s parents were doing their best to assure them that their daughter was late because, in a fit of youthful enthusiasm and the desire to outperform her colleagues, she had flown far into Terra Incognita in search of new sources of honey. It was not unusual for young bees to overextend themselves at the outset of their careers, in hope of winning early fame.

  But as Clarissa’s family clustered round her they could tell that, although she did not appear to be injured, something was wrong. They peered into her face, and felt her antennae to see if she was running a temperature; and asked her over and over if she was ill, or had got lost or trapped, or into a fight; even if she’d been taken captive by bees from another hive. None of the other worker bees had reported seeing her, and the dispatchers had several times discussed sending out a search party with a doctor.

  As glad as they were that she was safe, her parents were disappointed that several virgin fields had been found that day by others in Clarissa’s class, containing cornucopias, bumper crops, of the finest-nectared flowers. These had been claimed for the hive, and if things kept up at this rate, it was already being mooted that this year’s harvest might turn out to be the best on record. Clarissa, however, had contributed nothing: she had not a speck of pollen on her, only some thistle seeds that had stuck to her body.

  She had not only lost her chance to distinguish herself on her first day, she’d shown grave disrespect for the hive, and brought ignominy on herself and her family.

  Of course, Clarissa couldn’t lie to the officials, but neither could she explain why she’d been overcome with dizziness. So all she did was apologize over and over in a small voice, saying that she had no excuse to offer. It was a very serious matter, for the punishment for laziness or non-performance was death by stinging. There were no second chances. The bees were incensed, and her parents were helpless as a crowd of bees surged through the barriers around the arrival area, intent upon lynching their daughter. They were convinced that she was not one of their own, but a cuckoo bee who’d been planted on them by a rival hive.

  Just then there came a roll of drums and the clamour of trumpets. Instantly the officials stood to attention, everyone froze, and a respectful silence fell throughout the crowd, for this could only mean one thing: that the Queen Bee’s Household Guard was approaching.

  The Queen must have heard about Clarissa’s dereliction of duty, was the consensus, and had sent her drone guards to arrest her.

  The crowd parted, and a column of guards accompanied by heralds and drummers came up to Clarissa, and halted and stamped their feet; which, since between them they had a lot of feet, made a deafening sound. They were wearing tabards of gold and black, with the royal coat of arms emblazoned front and back, and casque helmets, and they were carrying short swords at their sides.

  At a stentorian command from the captain, the guards came to attention, saluted, and a herald blew a trumpet. No announcement was made, but two drones fell out and escorted Clarissa between the lines of the column. Because the drones were very tall, the young bee was not visible to the crowd as the soldiers led her off to the beat of the drums; and because she was too weak to walk and could barely stand, the guards on either side of her had to support her.

  Deep down into the hive they went, to places where neither Clarissa nor any other of the worker bees ever thought to be admitted.

  To her great surprise, instead of being cast into a dank prison cell with a handful of dirty straw on the floor, Clarissa was taken to the huge and ornately gilded entrance to the royal apartments. There, another detail of Household Guards saluted, and demanded to know in the Queen’s name who went there, and what the day’s password was.

  After the exchange of formalities, the great doors swung open, and the column passed through with Clarissa borne helplessly along in the middle. The guards came to a halt at a much smaller door, where their charge was taken into the custody of a couple of elderly drones. By now she was capable of standing unaided, and they took her inside.

  The room was a cell like any other in the hive, though larger; it was clean, and unfurnished except for a cot and a small table. Several candles were lit: there being no windows in the hive, and being provided with plenty of it, the bees cut off pieces of wax to illuminate their quarters with, using slivers of grass stem as wicks.

  The attendant drones withdrew, and Clarissa heard the key being turned in the lock, twice. She sat on the cot, unable to believe how drastic the change in her fortunes had been since that morning, when it seemed that she was about to inhabit her dreams of peaceful gardens and Arcadian fields overflowing with nectar, and enjoy the prospect of fame. That such a disaster had befallen her was almost too much to bear.

  When she had recovered a little, Clarissa saw that the drones had left on the table a plate of...why, it could only be royal jelly! Clarissa dimly remembered having eaten a little royal jelly as a baby, which her parents said had been left at the front door; to see its milky-white consistency again at such a time, and recall the smell and taste so vividly, was the oddest thing. She was amazed that the drones had provided her with anything more than a dried-up piece of honeycomb, if that.

  But she was too exhausted to try the jelly; and, lying down, she cried until she fell asleep in a pool of tears.

  Early next morning Clarissa was awoken from a nightmare—in which she had been lying in a thistly field, unable to move, and was carried off by a column of ants to feed their tribe—by a clatter of feet at the door. Evidently, she thought, it was the guards, rather than ants, who had returned to carry her off for public execution, as a warning to the rest of the bees as to the consequences of committing so heinous a crime. The drones would probably strip off her wings and sting her to death with ceremonial barbs, and Clarissa trembled at the thought of how long she would suffer before the poison took effect.

  She tried to compose in her head a plea, for one more chance to show how genuine she was about wanting to excel in her duty to the hive. But as desperate as Clarissa was, the idea of being outside again in those vast spaces brought back the buzzing in her head, as if it were a worse fate than the one that awaited her now.

  The guards marched Clarissa down a wide corridor with wax torches flaring in sconces along the high walls. At the end, two sentries with the royal insignia on their chests
were standing stiffly to attention before a double door. When they drew up, the sentries saluted and turned to knock on the door; and it was opened by the same two elderly drones as Clarissa had seen the night before.

  Without a word they drew her inside. It was a much larger room than the one she had spent the night in; and, as she looked around the gloomy interior, the young bee was astonished to see an enormous four-poster bed surrounded by draperies of dark purple velvet. Even more extraordinary, was a dining-table covered with gold platters, on which were generous portions of royal jelly, creamy and rich; and pieces of honeycomb oozing fragrant honey. The honey was made, Clarissa could tell from her education, from flowers so rare that to have found any one of them on her outing yesterday would have made her a celebrity.

  The drones conferred with each other in whispers, and picked up some official papers from a desk, on which Clarissa saw the Great Seal of the Hive. When they turned and stared at her long and hard, she felt so nervous that she was sure she was about to pass out. Then the drones nodded at each other, and went over to the bed, pulled aside the curtains that were drawn around it, and walked backwards to stand with their hands folded and heads bowed near the door.

  Clarissa started as she recognized: the Queen Bee!

  But although there was no doubt that it was the Queen lying there, the resemblance to the noble and beautiful figure in the print of the Annigoni portrait that had pride of place in Clarissa’s home was slight. Now the Queen was very old, and so fat that it must have been almost impossible for her to move; she had obviously not been outside in a very long time, and maybe hadn’t left her chamber or even the great bed for years.