THE SENTINEL
Soon, however, the little bee's despair yielded to a definite
resolve. It was as though she once more called to mind that she
was a bee.
"Here I am weeping and wailing," she thought, "as if I had no
brains and as if I were a weakling. Oh, I'm not much of an honor
to my people and my queen. They are in danger. I am doomed
anyhow. So since death is certain one way or another, I may as
well be proud and brave and do everything I can to try to save
them."
It was as though Maya had completely forgotten the long time
that had passed since she left her home. More strongly than ever
she felt herself one of her people; and the great responsibility
that suddenly devolved upon her, through the knowledge of the
hornets' plot, filled her with fine courage and determination.
"If my people are to be vanquished and killed, I want to be
killed, too. But first I must do everything in my power to save
them."
"Long live my queen!" she cried.
"Quiet in there!" clanged harshly from the outside.
Ugh, what an awful voice!-- The watchman making his rounds.-- Then
it was already late in the night.
As soon as the watchman's footsteps had died away, Maya began to
widen the chink through which she had peeped into the hall. It
was easy to bite away the brittle stuff of the partition, though
it took some time before the opening was large enough to admit
her body. At length, in the full knowledge that discovery would
cost her her life, she squeezed through into the hall. From
remote depths of the fortress echoed the sound of loud snoring.
The hall lay in a subdued blue light that found its way in
through the distant entrance.
"The moonlight!" Maya said to herself. She began to creep
cautiously toward the exit, cowering close in the deep shadows
of the walls, until she reached the high, narrow passageway that
led from the hall to the opening through which the light shone.
She heaved a deep sigh. Far, far away glimmered a star.
"Liberty!" she thought.
The passageway was quite bright. Softly, stepping oh so very
softly, Maya crept on. The portal came nearer and nearer.
"If I fly now," she thought, "I'll be out in one dash." Her
heart pounded as if ready to burst.
But there in the shadow of the doorway stood a sentinel leaning
against a column.
Maya stood still, rooted to the spot. Vanished all her hopes.
Gone the chance of escape. There was no getting by that
formidable figure. What was she to do? Best go back where she
had come from. But the sight of the giant in the doorway held
her in a spell. He seemed to be lost in revery. He stood gazing
out upon the moon-washed landscape, his head tilted slightly
forward, his chin propped on his hand. How his golden cuirass
gleamed in the moonlight! Something in the way he stood there
stirred the little bee's emotions.
"He looks so sad," she thought. "How handsome he is, how
superbly he holds himself, how proudly his armor shines! He
never removes it, neither by day nor by night. He is always
ready to rob and fight and die...."
Little Maya quite forgot that this man was her enemy. Ah, how
often the same thing had happened to her--that the goodness of
her heart and her delight in beauty made her lose all sense of
danger.
A golden dart of light shot from the bandit's helmet. He must
have turned his head.
"My God," whispered Maya, "this is the end of me!"
But the sentinel said quietly:
"Just come here, child."
"What!" cried Maya. "You saw me?"
"All the time, child. You bit a hole through the wall, then you
crept along--crept along--tucking yourself very neatly into
the dark places--until you reached the spot where you're
standing. Then you saw me, and you lost heart. Am I right?"
"Yes," said Maya, "quite right." Her whole body shook with
terror. The sentinel, then, had seen her the entire time. She
remembered having heard how keen were the senses of these clever
freebooters.
"What are you doing here?" he asked good-humoredly.
Maya still thought he looked sad. His mind seemed to be far away
and not to concern itself with what was of such moment to her.
"I'd like to get out," she answered. "And I'm not afraid. I was
just startled. You looked so strong and handsome, and your armor
shone so. Now I'll fight you."
The sentinel, slightly astonished, leaned forward, and looked at
Maya and smiled. It was not an ugly smile, and Maya experienced
an entirely new feeling: the young warrior's smile seemed to
exercise a mysterious power over her heart.
"No, little one," he said almost tenderly, "you and I won't
fight. You bees belong to a powerful nation, but man for man we
hornets are stronger. To do single battle with a bee would be
beneath our dignity. If you like you may stay here a little
while and chat. But only a little while. Soon I'll have to wake
the soldiers up; then, back to your cell you must go."
How curious! The hornet's lofty friendliness disarmed Maya more
than anger or hate could have done. The feeling with which he
inspired her was almost admiration. With great sad eyes she
looked up at her enemy, and constrained, as always, to follow
the impulses of her heart, she said:
"I have always heard bad things about hornets. But you are not
bad. I can't believe you're bad."
The warrior looked at Maya.
"There are good people and bad people everywhere," he said,
gravely. "But you mustn't forget we are your enemies, and shall
always remain your enemies."
"Must an enemy always be bad?" asked Maya. "Before, when you
were looking out into the moonlight, I forgot that you were hard
and dangerous. You seemed sad, and I have always thought that
people who were sad couldn't possibly be wicked."
The sentinel said nothing, and Maya continued more boldly:
"You are powerful. If you want to, you can put me back in my
cell, and I'll have to die. But you can also set me free--if
you want to."
At this the warrior drew himself up. His armor clanked, and the
arm he raised shone in the moonlight.
But the moonlight was turning dimmer in the passageway. Was dawn
coming already?
"You are right," he said. "I can. My people and my queen have
entrusted me with this power. My orders are that no bee who has
set foot in this fortress shall leave it alive. I shall keep
faith with my people."
After a pause he added softly as if to himself: "I have learned
by bitter experience how faithlessness can hurt--when Loveydear
forsook me...."
Little Maya was overcome. She did not know what to say. Ah, the
same sentiments moved her, too--love of her own kind, loyalty
to her people. Nothing to be done here but to use force or
strategy. Each did his duty, and yet each remained an enemy to
the other.
But hadn't the sentinel mentioned a name? Hadn't he said
something about someone's having been unfaithful to him?
Loveydear--why, she knew Loveydear--the beautiful dragon-fly
who lived at the lakeside among the waterlilies.
Maya quivered with excitement. Here, perhaps, was her salvation.
But she wasn't quite sure how much good her knowledge would be
to her. So she said prudently:
"Who is Loveydear, if I may ask?"
"Never mind, little one. She's not your affair, and she's lost
to me forever. I shall never find her again."
"I know Miss Loveydear." Maya forced herself to put the utmost
indifference into her tone. "She belongs to the family of
dragon-flies and she's the loveliest lady of all."
A tremendous change came over the warrior. He seemed to have
forgotten where he was. He leapt over to Maya's sides as if
blown by a violent gust.
"What! You know Loveydear? Tell me where she is. Tell me, right
away."
"No."
Maya spoke quietly and firmly; she glowed with secret delight.
"I'll bite your head off if you don't tell." The warrior drew
dangerously close.
"It will be bitten off anyhow. Go ahead. I shan't betray the
lovely dragon-fly. She's a close friend of mine.... You want to
imprison her."
The warrior breathed hard. In the gathering dawn Maya could see
that his forehead was pale and his eyes tragic with the inner
struggle he was waging.
"Good God!" he said wildly. "It's time to rouse the soldiers.-- No,
no, little bee, I don't want to harm Loveydear. I love her,
more dearly than my life. Tell me where I shall find her again."
Maya was clever. She purposely hesitated before she said:
"But I love my life."
"If you tell me where Loveydear lives"--Maya could see that
the sentinel spoke with difficulty and was trembling all
over-- "I'll set you free. You can fly wherever you want."
"Will you keep your word?"
"My word of honor as a brigand," said the sentinel proudly.
Maya could scarcely speak. But, if she was to be in time to warn
her people of the attack, every moment counted. Her heart
exulted.
"Very well," she said, "I believe you. Listen, then. Do you know
the ancient linden-trees near the castle? Beyond them lies one
meadow after another, and finally comes a big lake. In a cove at
the south end where the brook empties into the lake the
waterlilies lie spread out on the water in the sunlight. Near
them, in the rushes, is where Loveydear lives. You'll find her
there every day at noon when the sun is high in the heavens."
The warrior had pressed both hands to his pale brow. He seemed
to be having a desperate struggle with himself.
"You're telling the truth," he said softly and groaned, whether
from joy or pain it was impossible to tell. "She told me she
wanted to go where there were floating white flowers. Those must
be the flowers you speak of. Fly away, then. I thank you."
And actually he stepped aside from the entrance.
Day was breaking.
"A brigand keeps his word," he said.
Not knowing that Maya had overheard the deliberations in the
council chamber, he told himself that one small bee more or less
made little difference. Weren't there hundreds of others?
"Good-by," cried Maya, breathless with haste, and flew off
without a word of thanks.
As a matter of fact, there was no time to spare.
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