I gathered up my courage to descend the stairs and speak. However angry it made my father, I must speak up for Asterius. I knew he had not harmed Glaucus.
Before I could move, however, there came an interruption.
“My lady! My queen! I came as quickly as I could!”
There came a sound of labored breathing and the jingling and clanking of many gold ornaments. It sounded as though Polyidus had indeed run all the way.
“My friend, Polyidus!” cried my mother. “You have come to tell me where to find my boy. You have come to return my son to me, safe and sound!”
“I am sure I shall, my lady.” said Polyidus, preening himself.
My father’s mouth twisted with distaste. He disliked Polyidus, I knew. I did not blame him. Polyidus was a great diviner, but I thought him a creeping, crawling slug of a man. So, I believe, did my mother in her heart, but at the moment she would have been gracious to anyone who could give her hope.
“I must go and get my accouterments, my dear queen,” Polyidus said. “The tools of my trade, you know. And then I assure you it will be but a few moments until we find the child, quite unharmed. Will you not repair to the throne room and wait for me there?”
“No. Can’t you—can’t you just make do with what is here?” my mother said, abruptly moving out of the range of my sight. I descended a few steps to see that she had gone out into the courtyard. “Here is sand that you could use, or pebbles, or water,” she said, gesturing about her. “I beg of you, hurry.”
“Well.” This set Polyidus back on his heels. He liked to have a great deal of ritual and formality while he was working. “I don’t know—”
“The Goddess abides in me, as her priestess,” my mother reminded him. “You may draw on her strength through me.”
As there was no help for it, Polyidus gave in. “As my queen commands,” he said plaintively, following her outside into the open air.
I crept down the stairs and joined a group of courtiers and servants who had gathered around to witness the divination. My mother and Polyidus stood by a pool of water with scarlet fish swimming in it. Polyidus was looking about himself, at a loss. “Now, I suppose I could—” he began doubtfully.
My mother cried out.
A large, golden honeybee had lighted on the first finger of her right hand.
“It is a sign,” Polyidus said quickly, before anyone else could give voice to the obvious. “They are holy creatures.”
At this, the bee flew away into the palace.
“Follow her!” commanded Polyidus, as though we needed to be told.
Down many halls we walked. As our queer procession moved forward, we gradually picked up more and more people in our train. Hushed, tense, we followed the honeybee, which paused here and there upon a wall, allowing us to catch up, then flew onward in what appeared to be a purposeful manner.
We were nearing some of the humbler portions of the palace. We walked into a kitchen, shocking the cook nearly senseless. She dropped to her knees, her wooden spoon clattering to the floor beside her, as the queen, leading a parade of great ladies and lords, passed through her lowly domain. “Your Majesty! My lord!” the cook moaned, prostrating herself before us. My mother stepped briskly over her, her eyes fixed on the bee. The rest of the party followed suit. In the hall outside the kitchen, the bee stopped in its flight and landed on the floor. We halted and stared at the tiny animal.
“What does it mean?” my mother whispered.
Then we saw. The bee was crawling on an iron ring. It had landed on a trapdoor leading to one of the storage rooms.
“Oh, quickly, quickly,” moaned my mother.
The trapdoor was flung open, and several servants jumped down inside. The bee flew straight to one of the great pithoi, storage jars higher than a tall man’s head and broader than his out-flung arms. On the pithos the bee rested.
“In there,” said Polyidus triumphantly.
When at length the massive jar was tipped on its side and the contents poured out on the floor, they proved to be three in number: an enormous quantity of honey, a dead mouse, and my brother Glaucus, likewise dead, drowned in a vat of golden sweetness.
CHAPTER FOUR
And Returned
I TURNED MY HEAD AWAY, HALF FAINTING WITH HORROR.
The crush of people pushing forward to see nearly knocked me off my feet—I would surely have fallen if not for a hand that reached out from the crowd and steadied me with a firm grip.
I looked up to see Icarus’s anxious eyes on mine.
“Come away, my lady,” he said. “You ought not to be here.”
I looked back and saw my wild-eyed mother and my stone-faced father standing motionless, staring down at the body of my little brother as it lay in a pool of honey at the bottom of the storage room.
“My parents,” I said. “I must—”
“You are better elsewhere, Princess.”
I shook my head. “My mother may want me,” I said, resisting as he tugged on my hand. “I will not fall,” I assured him, and, indeed, I did not believe that I would. There was a sickness at the pit of my stomach, but that was nothing.
He nodded and turned his attention back to my parents, who were now descending the ladder into the lower room. In the lamplight poor Glaucus glistened all over, like a statue washed with liquid gold.
The bee, which had been forgotten, now flew out of a dark corner and
