The Dancing Bees

by Copper Beech

The letter came from Brother Adam and no it was not written in Latin with gilt letters and the careful hand of a calligrapher. It came in practiced, but hurried English and it was addressed to my husband and partner, Sherlock Holmes.

It arrived with the morning post. And I, having just put in several late night hours finishing a paper on the writers of the psalms, followed it rather tardily. Holmes had long finished breakfast, but sat with me while I ate mine. When I had finished the last bite of toast sweetened with honey from Holmes' bees, I was handed an opened envelope.

"What do you make of it, Russell?" Holmes asked. I started to detail the meaning I took from the state of the envelope, when he stopped me. "No, I mean the letter inside."

I pulled out a single sheet of coarse writing paper. Following the salutation were the words: "I found this affixed to one of the beehives. Can you tell me what it means?" I looked on the back of the paper and in the envelope for the "this," but did not see it. I looked up at Holmes, who handed me a small piece of dirty paper. It contained no words, but some numbers and for all the world, what looked like bees. It said:

Or rather, did not say, for I had little idea what the message might mean. Obviously, it was a code, but beyond that I could not say. However, it was common for Holmes to ask me to think on my feet (though I was seated), so I began.

"Curious," I said. It uses pictures as well as standard English punctuation and Arabic numerals. I pointed to the comma and the colon, along with the two and the one. "My first thought is that it is a substitution code, with each picture representing a letter of the alphabet."

"Quite right," said Holmes. "And not a very complicated one at that."

"So you've deciphered the message?"

"Yes," he said. "It did not take much effort. I think it was meant to be easy, something Brother Adam could read. The author gave away the letters of the first word, by setting them off from the rest of the message by spacing and a comma. The first word is Adam, the recipient of the letter. That gave me two letters of the other word, "a" and "m." So, the message looked like this:" he said, writing on the back of the envelope.

ADAM,

--- --- A --- M 2:1

"The next clue was the two, followed by a colon and a one. A reference to a passage of Scripture, I took it. And that led me to the other letters of P, S, and L."

"So, the message was to read Psalm 2:1?" I asked.

"Precisely," came the reply. And before I could do so, Holmes recited it for me. "Why do the nations rage and the peoples utter folly?" I didn't have to ask him how he new the passage. He did have a Bible of his own, though not exactly by choice.

"Now that 'we've' read it, Holmes, what do you think it means?"

"I do not have enough data to form a hypothesis, Russell. I will send the message along to Brother Adam and see what he makes of it."

It was several days before we got a reply from Brother Adam. He thanked Holmes for the translation and sent copies of two more messages he had received. Brother Adam could read them this time, for they were identical to the first message, save for the numbers. What he wanted from Holmes was an interpretation.

The second message cited Psalm 3:1, :"O Lord, how many are my adversaries." The third message cited Psalm 35:1, "Fight, O Lord, against those who fight me."

"I think this is more in your line, Russell. Why don't you take some time with them?" he suggested.

I took the papers and tucked them into a pocket. Having just finished a paper on the psalms, they were fresh in my mind. Maybe too fresh. A little distance would help.

I decided to walk on the Downs to clear my mind. After a time, I found myself sitting on a chalk cliff overlooking the Channel. I took out the scraps of paper and pondered. What was it the writer was trying to say? Certainly that he or she felt what? Oppressed? A victim? In danger? At war? At war. I looked out over the Channel to France and remembered how many of our young men died in her fields. And how many returned home with memories of that. I wondered if our writer might be one such soldier who could not leave the war behind. It was only a guess. Holmes hates guesses. I walked back to the cottage considering how I could get more data. A wait of a few days might produce more. And so it did.

In the succeeding days, Holmes received three more messages. They were again lines from the psalms. One was Psalm 10:1, "Why O Lord do you stand aloof?" Another was Psalm 13:1, "How long O Lord? Will you utterly forget me?" The other was Psalm 27:7, "Hear, O Lord, the sound of my call; have pity on me and answer me."

These messages came with a missive from Brother Adam. He asked if Holmes might come to the abbey to solve the mystery once and for all. Technically, it was my case, but Holmes agreed to come, as much to talk with Brother Adam about bees, as to see what would develop.

Holmes wrote to Brother Adam and told him to prepare a place for us. Two days later, we left for Shropshire.

The Benedictine Abbey of Our Lady of the Desert was small by medieval standards, but would suit a small community of brothers. A pull on the bell rope brought the porter. An inquiry into the whereabouts of Brother Adam sent him off to find him.

Benedictines are known for their hospitality. Although we arrived after the evening meal, Brother Adam took us to the refectory and fed us with a simple meal. After that, we were taken to a small, but comfortable cell, thoughtfully provided with two cots pushed together. These monks may not be in the world as we are, I thought, but they do know something about it.

"You are welcome to come to Compline," said Brother Adam after we dropped our bags on the hard floor. "Then, if you wish, we can talk about these curious notes."

Holmes declined the offer. Having spent too much time with missionaries during a snowstorm, he did not see this formal prayer as a novel or necessary experience. I decided a little community could do me no harm and I was right. Compline began and with it the singing of psalms. "With all my voice I cry to the Lord, with all my voice I entreat the Lord. I pour out my troubles before him; I tell him all my distress while my spirit faints within me. But you, O Lord, know my path." It wasn't the familiar Hebrew I heard, but Latin, that gave the words a plaintive sound. I sat and let the words wash over me and tried to think very little. I knew those words could have been spoken not only by our correspondent, but by me.

I have had many troubles to pour out before the Lord. I have preferred to keep them to myself. But since meeting Holmes, I have been more open to discussing them. And perhaps this was a reminder that I needed to do that once again. Lost in thought, I didn't notice when Compline ended. Brother Adam came over to me and asked, "Did you enjoy our singing, Miss Russell?"

I was brought abruptly back to the present and politely replied, "Yes, very much. But please call me Mary."

"We don't all have the gift of song," he said. "But after all these years, we know each other's strengths and weaknesses and we compensate for them."

Brother Adam took my hand and helped me out of my seat. As he did so, he said, "It's late. Would you like to have our discussion in the morning?"

"Yes, please," I responded truthfully. With that, he walked me to the guest room "Good night, Mary" said Brother Adam as he left me at the door. "If you or Mr. Holmes need anything, please let me know." With that he set off for his own room.

On opening the door to our temporary quarters, I found Holmes reading by lamplight. "Did you enjoy yourself, Russell?" he asked.

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact," I replied. As I prepared for sleep, I wondered if I should or could say more. "Holmes," I said before he drifted off, "Do you think about death?"

He sat up and looked at me. "Why do you ask?"

"Because our correspondent does. And it got me to thinking about it, too."

"Do you mean death in general or mine in particular?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Well," he said slowly, "I do realize I have fewer days ahead than I do behind, but it is not something I worry about. It is a natural part of living is it not?"

"For most of us, yes. But for some, say those in war, it is not."

"That is true to some extent, but killing seems to be a natural thing for some people."

"I know and it troubles me."

"That may be, but that is not what is troubling you now."

"No, it's not," I admitted. "I don't know how to say this and not sound maudlin," I began, "But ever since the death of Dorothy Ruskin, I have been thinking about what my life would be like without you." Holmes smiled ever so slightly. "Not to worry, Russell. I fear you will have many an exasperating year with me before that happens."

"I suppose that's true. Perhaps we ought to work on making them less so now." He moved closer and proceeded to make it so.

Morning comes early to the monastery, but thankfully Brother Adam did not call us to it until the community and the sun had well risen. We joined the brothers for breakfast and Brother Adam took us to see his bees. Along the way, we talked about who our correspondent might be.

The bees, too, had risen before us and they industriously came and went from their hives. Brother Adam showed Holmes their inner workings, while I examined the ground around them.

There were not many footprints. Few of the brothers had cause to visit the bees. I saw evidence of only two sets that were made by their common sandals. But amid these, were a third set made by someone wearing sturdy walking shoes. They led to and from the end hive. Not wanting to interrupt Holmes in conversation, I began to follow them away from the hive.

The stride told me the walker was likely a man of 5'10" with a shoe size slightly smaller than one generally sees in someone that height, but not dramatically so. His slight weight was evenly distributed in his steps. And his stride was purposeful. The trail took me into a copse, then a field, and finally to a pond, where I found him sitting.

"Good morning," I said.

The young man said, "Is it? I hadn't noticed." He didn't look up, but threw one of several pebbles he had in his hand. It hit the center of the pond and sent a series of ripples toward us.

I looked at the ground around my feet and found a smooth flat stone. With a flick of my left wrist, I sent the stone skipping four times before it sand into the now still water. He looked at me and then at the collection of stones in his hand. He chose the flattest of them and dropped the rest. With his left wrist in quick motion, he sent it skipping six-seven-eight times before it dropped to the shallow bottom of the pond. I found another stone and took up the challenge. Hah! Ten. He went twelve. Our "war" escalated until we ran out of stones and pond.

I turned to him with empty hand extended and said, "Mary Russell."

He met it with his and said, "David Sears."

"Well, David Sears, how is it you know the psalms?" I asked.

"I read them when I was in hospital," he said, not the least bit surprised at my question.

"And did they comfort you?"

"Not as much as the morphine, but yes, some."

Trying not to sound like an interrogator, I softened my voice and asked, "Why did you send those messages to Brother Adam?"

"That's between him and me."

"How long have you known Brother Adam?"

"Since I was a child. I used to watch him working with his bees. He was so gentle and patient. I wanted to work with him, but I didn't belong there. I wasn't so sure there was a God and Brother Adam seemed to know Him personally."

"And now?" I asked.

"Now I could use a friend who could give me an introduction."

He got up and started to walk away. I wanted to call out after him, but did not. Instead, he turned around and said, "Tell Brother Adam I'll be waiting for him. He knows where to find me."

I made my way back to the hives and met Holmes and Brother Adam on the way. "I take it you found our correspondent?" said Holmes.

"Yes," I said slowly. "His name is David Sears."

Brother Adam smiled. "I suspected as much. I've been waiting for David to answer the call for better than ten years now."

"He did answer one call," I said.

"Yes," replied Brother Adam. "He did fight in the war. And in that war, his only brother died. David never quite recovered from that, nor his own close brush with death. He spent many months in hospital recovering and he did in body, but not in mind. I suspect he feels guilty for surviving while his brother did not."

I know something about that, but did not say so. I did say, "He told me to tell you that he'll be waiting for you and that you know where to find him."

"Indeed I do," said Brother Adam. "He'll be waiting for me by the bees."

The next day, Holmes and I prepared to leave for home. We said goodbye as Brother Adam made his way to the hives.

"They have a lot to talk about," I said to Holmes.

"Yes, Russell. Indeed they do."