The Beekeeper

Chapter 1

June, 1185

From his seat on his horse, Guy surveyed the afternoon happenings of the village. At age twenty-two, he was considered fairly young for the position of constable, but Briewere had seen to it that the responsibility was put upon his shoulders. His duties were typically relegated to the castle, where he helped to manage both the administers and the military personnel – the guards, the watchmen, the porters, and others. Such duties kept him greatly occupied, and he was rarely alone. But on occasion, he was able to recruit one of the underlings to briefly take his place, just as he had done that morning.

Riding casually along, he closely watched the activity around him – in particular, the marketplace, where thieves were known to occasionally be caught. And just the thought of it made his hackles go up.

Thieves, he thought in anger. Debauched wretches. They should all be locked in cages and left to rot.

As he gazed about, he saw a well-known but rarely seen figure among the crowd. He observed her as she examined linen bundles on a seller's cart. She was one of two elderly sisters. This one was called Agatha, and the other one...well, he couldn't quite recall what her name was. Both of them were known to be odd in their ways. There were whispers that the women were secretly pagans, but if they were, they hid it well – both of them sometimes seen together at church, kneeling in prayer before the altar rail. To be sure, Paganism was by no means illegal - but it was by no means encouraged, it being deeply frowned upon by the church. Of the two sisters, this one before him was certainly the one who stood out more.

The beekeeper, he thought. As he rode towards her, their eyes met – and as he brought his horse to pause in front of her, she looked up at him with a crooked smile, revealing her missing top front tooth.

"Good morrow, constable," she said in her raspy voice.

He bristled at her bold tone. During his years of service to Briewere, he had grown foul of temper – just as his uncle had expected. And as expected, he had grown fierce in performing his duties. The people feared him.

But this woman...

In her usual indecent way – for she seemed ignorant of any and all consequences – she asked him...

"Cut any ears off today?"

Turning his head away for a moment, his reply came of its own volition. "The day is not done yet."

When he looked back at her, he could see that she was still smiling to herself. He hadn't intended to be humorous in his reply, but she took it that way. And if she did, so be it. What could he do about it? Trying to maintain a solemn air, he turned to the one aspect of his life that he felt entirely in control of - his duty. His words became stern once again.

"Make haste to the skeps. The king's bees require great care."

Still smiling in that way of hers, she said nothing to his order. But as he rode away, he at least had the satisfaction of knowing she would see the task done. She was, after all, the one who oversaw the best supply of bees in the kingdom – and such a position was both prestigious and highly profitable.

Thinking of the subject of profits, his attention was once again drawn to the bustling crowd around him. His nose caught a wafted scent of freshly baked bread, causing him to instinctively turn his head in that direction. Near a baker's stall, there stood a rather tall and gaunt looking young fellow - not more than perhaps sixteen or seventeen. Judging by both his scrawny physique and tattered clothing, he was a peasant – and Guy was immediately suspicious. For a few moments, he closely observed the young man's face – seeing the great dilemma waging within him. Clearly, he was making a decision...