Chapter 7. At the end of the honey trail

Where Itzel learns how to paint honey trails, and the Lord of the Bees sends a message

Note: Author commentary at the end of the chapter. This commentary is exclusive to the Cacao Muse; you won’t see it on Amazon, my author site, or printed inside the wrappers of my favorite chocolate bars.

With Juan gone to rejoin the others, the cacao grove returned to its idyllic, sun-dappled peace. Nevertheless, Max remained mesmerized by the memory of the serpent shooting from the cacao branch and stopping mid-air in front of Juan’s face. It was, by far, the single most impressive thing he had ever witnessed. Wait till Claude hears about this, he thought about his best friend back home, grinning as he imagined the look of shock on Claude’s face.

“Max, ven, ¡te quiero mostrar algo!” (Come, Max, I want to show you something!)

Itzel was waving him over to another tree. But Max couldn’t leave just yet. He had to go back and pay his respects to the cacao tree branch where the serpent had lain.

“Un momento, Itzel!” he called back. Stepping carefully into the leaf litter at the base of the cacao tree, he located the branch. For a moment, he looked at it in reverent silence, imagining the powerful body of the serpent resting on it. On instinct, he reached out to touch the branch. It felt soft, moist.

Just then, a low whir swung by Max’s right ear. Startled, Max pulled back, expecting to see a pollinating midge. But instinctively he knew the sound was too strong for a tiny midge. Sure enough—it was a bee. Son of a bee researcher, Max was no stranger to bees, but he’d never seen one like this. Almost the size of the European honeybee, it had elongated black eyes, a much fuzzier thorax, and overall was lighter in color than its honeybee cousin: its legs were amber-colored and the yellow and black stripes on its abdomen much more subdued. Watching the tiny marvel of biological engineering hover by his cheek, Max recalled the high-speed film about pollinators one of his father’s friends made for a cable network. He’d seen it so many times he could replay virtually every sequence in his head. The four wings of a bee were capable of extraordinary maneuvers, enabling the bee to hover, fly upside down, dart to and fro with high precision, and do all kinds of aerial acrobatics, similar to hummingbirds.

He froze and held his breath, watching the bee out of the corner of his eye. She was so close he could see her large eyes. Apparently satisfied with its reconnaissance of the human, the bee landed on one of the open cacao flowers.

“Itzel… !” Max called out, whisking his hand in a come quick! gesture down low by his side—so the bee couldn’t see, of course. Itzel was next to him in a second.

“Look… ” Max pointed to the bee. “I thought bees don’t pollinate the cacao trees?”

“No… well, this is the Maya bee. In our language, we call her u-yum-il a'-kab' in Itzà. It means ‘Lady of the Honey.’ She is a link to the spirit world.”

If it were one of his friends back home, Max would have had something rather on-point to say about that. But Itzel was dead serious, and somehow it made perfect sense. Everything here was alive, not just on a biological level but in a deeper, more mystical sense.

“It is strange that she has come here,” said Itzel quietly. “The bees do not usually come to cacao flowers.”