If those bees attack my uncle one more time, the old keeper will be dragged away in chains for treason, my cousin whispered as we stood on the portico of Elmwood Manor.
Julian’s accusation hung heavy in the air, but I barely registered it. My gaze was fixed on the shattered cup, on the dark, tea-soaked fragments on the hearth.
His violent reaction was all the confirmation I needed. He knew what was in that tea.
General Silas, startled by the commotion, began to cough harder, a weak, rasping sound. His eyes darted between Julian and me, confused and distressed.
“Brother, forgive my temper,” Julian said, turning back to Silas with a forced calm. “The nurse’s clumsiness startled me.”
He shot me a look of pure venom, a silent warning. I understood. I had trespassed on his territory, and he would retaliate.
The next morning, the air crackled with a different kind of tension. I was preparing bandages in the hospital tent when a commotion erupted outside.
Two armed Union provost guards, their uniforms stiff and imposing, marched up the gravel path leading to the apiary. Behind them strode Major Pryce, his face grim.
Julian Montgomery stood on the portico, observing the scene with a chilling stillness. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips.
My heart sank. This was it.
Ebenezer Holloway, alerted by the noise, emerged from the apiary, his hands already smeared with beeswax. His kind, weathered face creased with confusion.
Major Pryce approached him, unrolling a stiff parchment. “Ebenezer Holloway,” he announced, his voice devoid of emotion, “by order of the War Department, and with the authority of Brigadier General Silas Montgomery, you are hereby served with an official injunction.”
My stomach clenched. General Silas had not signed that. He was too ill. This was Julian’s doing.
Pryce continued, his voice echoing in the morning stillness. “This document cites your apiary as a ‘biological hazard to military operations.’ Effective immediately, all twenty-four beehives are to be destroyed by burning with sulfur.”
Ebenezer swayed, as if struck. His hand flew to his chest, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“My bees?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Destroyed? They’re harmless!”
“The order is explicit,” Pryce said, ignoring his plea. He gestured to one of the guards, who began to stack bundles of dry timber near the hives.
Julian stepped forward, his voice cutting through Ebenezer’s protests. “You have two hours, old man. Gather your meager belongings. Then you will leave this property, and Virginia, forever.”
Ebenezer crumpled to his knees on the gravel path, the dust rising around him. Tears streamed down his leathery cheeks, mingling with the sweat. He buried his face in his hands, heartbroken.
The provost guards stood impassively, their rifles glinting in the morning light. The smell of raw timber and sulfur matches already hung faintly in the air.
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