Everything changed when I turned all of it upside down, when I started thinking about creating an entrance to the hive from above. This led me to the idea that is also the reason behind my writing to you: my soon to be patented movable frames. The boards are attached to these so that they are not in contact with the hive itself, neither on the top, on the bottom nor on the sides. Through this design I am able to take out or remove the boards at my own discretion, without having to cut them down or hurt the bees. I am thus also free to move the bees over to other hives and have control over them to a far greater degree than previously.
And how, you will certainly ask, does one prevent the bees from attaching the boards to the sides or to other boards with wax and propolis, or from building brace comb? Well, I shall give an account of this. Throughout a long period of calculations and experiments I arrived at the critical dimension. And that, my good friend, if you will permit me to address you as such, is nine. There must be a nine-millimeter space between the boards. There must be a nine-millimeter space between the boards and the side, between the boards and the bottom, between the boards and the top, neither more nor less.
I hope and believe that “Savage’s Standard Hive” will soon be available all over Europe, yes, perhaps it will even reach beyond the borders of the continent. In the course of my work I have cultivated simplicity as a principle and the practical aspect has been essential, so that the hive can be used by everyone, from the most novice of beekeepers to the most experienced with hundreds of hives. But most importantly, I hope the hive might contribute to simplified observation conditions for naturalists like ourselves, so that we can continue to study in depth and make new discoveries related to this creature that is so infinitely fascinating, and not least, important for human beings.
I have already applied for a patent for my invention, but as you are most certainly aware, the processing of these applications can take time. In the meantime I am eager to hear your response to my work. Yes, perhaps you will personally also attempt to develop a hive based on my principles. In the event you should be so inclined, I would feel more honored than you could imagine.
The first carriage drove into the yard. My heart leapt, because it was beginning now. I had dressed in my best clothes, neatly ironed and laundered, and my face was freshly shaven, I had even brushed the dust off of my top hat. The guests were arriving and I was ready.
The hives were lined up in two rows on the lowest part of the property. Yes, there were many of them now; Conolly had really had his hands full. The accumulated sound of thousands of bees was so loud that we could hear them from all the way in the house. My bees: tamed by me, my subjects, subjects which in truth also obeyed the smallest of my hand gestures as day after day, each and every one with its tiny offering contributed to filling the hive with shining, amber honey, and not least, did their part for the hive’s growth and development—for even more subjects.
During the past few weeks I had sent out a number of invitations to my very first presentation of “Savage’s Standard Hive.” The invitations had been delivered to local farmers, but also sent to natural scientists from the capital. And to Rahm. I had heard from many, but not from him. But he would no doubt come. He had to come.
Edmund, too, was ready. It was my impression that he had understood that this was serious. Yes, Thilda herself had apparently talked to him. Because it was still not too late, he was young, in that phase of life it was easy to be led astray, seduced by simple pleasures. Follow his passion, he’d called it, an argument I had the very greatest respect for, now it was just a matter of ensuring that he discovered a passion of distinction. My hope for him was that in his encounter with the research, in direct contact with nature, he would be inspired. That the sense of pride I would awaken in him, the pride over being a part of this family, carrying on our name, would lead him back to the straight and narrow path.
Together the women of the family had moved chairs and benches down to the hives. The public would sit there while I gave my presentation. The girls and Thilda had chopped, roasted, boiled and sautéed away in the kitchen for several days. There would be refreshments, of course there would, although the very last of our money, yes, even the tuition money, had been spent. Because it was just a matter of a short-term investment, after this day everything would be resolved, I was convinced of that.
Charlotte had been at my side the entire time. Since that day in the forest we had done everything together. Her serenity infected me, her enthusiasm became my own. This was also her day, but all the same there was a silent agreement that her white beekeeper’s suit was to remain in the clothes chest in the girls’ bedroom. She belonged among the other women, and appeared to have found her place there, with a serving dish in her hand and her cheeks blushing like tea roses. But once in a while she sent me a happy, excited smile, which told me she was looking forward to this with at least as much excitement as I was.
The first carriage stopped in front of me. I prepared myself for a greeting. But then I saw who it was. Conolly, it was only Conolly.
I stuck out my hand, but he didn’t take it, just pounded me on the shoulder.
“Been looking forward to this all week,” he said and smiled. “Never been a part of something like this before.”
I smiled back, tentatively indulgent, didn’t want to say that neither had I, but he jabbed me with his elbow.
“You’re looking forward to it yourself. I can see it.”
So we stood there, jiggling impatiently like two young boys on our first day of school.
First the local farmers arrived—two who already kept bees and one who was thinking about starting up. They walked down to the hives while we waited.
A little later two gentlemen whom I didn’t know arrived on horseback. Both were wearing top hats and riding clothes, and were covered with dust, as if they had traveled a long distance. They dismounted, came towards me and it was only then that I recognized my former fellow students, both with receding hairlines, potbellies and coarse pores on faces full of wrinkles. How old they had become. No, not them, we, how old we had become.
They greeted me, thanked me for the invitation, looked around and nodded in appreciation. They commented upon the types of opportunities found in living like this, at one with nature, instead of the existence they themselves had chosen, in the urban forest where the trees were buildings of brick, the fertile soil was cobblestone and all one saw when one looked up towards the sky were rooftops and chimney pots.
The people streamed in; more farmers, some merely for curiosity’s sake, and even three zoologists from the capital, who came with the morning coach and were dropped off on the road below the property.
But no Rahm.
I hurried inside, checked the clock on the mantelpiece.
I had hoped to start at one o’clock on the dot. Only then, when everyone was in their seat, would I walk down and take my position in front of them. And Edmund, my firstborn, would be there in the audience—he would see me standing in front of everyone.