The Honey Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

impossible. A bee can catch a cold.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘I have seen a bee sneezing.’
    ‘No!’ said Abbas. Then before he could stop himself, he said, ‘God will punish you for telling lies!’
    Ahmad Hussein laughed. He was teasing Abbas, but when a boy was as full of sorrow as this one, perhaps teasing could help.
    ‘I have seen a bee sneezing,’ said Ahmad Hussein. ‘When I said, “God bless you!” the bee said to me, “You say, ‘God bless you,’ Ahmad Hussein, and yet look where you have placed our house! You have placed it where the cold wind comes across the field!” It was true. I had placed his house where the cold wind troubled him. So now I am more careful. Now I place the beehives away from the cold, and away from the afternoon sun. Do you see now why we must take our time when we look for the right place in the right field?’
    Ahmad Hussein spent five days teaching Abbas all of the things that had to be taken into account when placing the hives. Twenty-five judgements had to be made, he said, before the hives were set down in a field, and he not only told Abbas the twenty-five judgements, he wrote them down on paper when the two of them ate their lunch on the fifth day.
    When Ahmad Hussein had finished his lunch, he said, ‘Do you know, Abbas, something happened in this field when I was your age that I would like to tell you about. Will you listen?’
    Abbas said, ‘Of course, Sir.’
    ‘I came to this field all those years ago looking for the beehives of another man. At that time, I knew nothing of bees but I knew I liked honey. So I came here and stole the honey, just enough to satisfy my desire. It was the third time I’d stolen honey from the hives. Does that surprise you?’
    Abbas was blushing. He said, ‘Surely you didn’t do such a thing!’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Ahmad Hussein. ‘I had the devil in me sometimes when I was a boy. I stole the honey. But because it was my third theft, someone was hiding in the grass and waiting for me, waiting for the honey thief. Before I knew it, a man had hold of my neck. A stick came down on my behind, once, twice, twenty times, and I screamed and struggled. They were hard blows! Very hard! Then the beating stopped and I stood crying and rubbing my behind – dear God, how much it hurt! The man who had beaten me with the stick – he was watching and laughing. He said, “What did you enjoy most? The honey or the beating? Or was one better than the other?”’
    ‘Did you apologise for what you had done?’ asked Abbas. He was shocked to hear that his teacher had stolen the honey. Such a thing would never have occurred to him.
    ‘Did I apologise?’ said Ahmad Hussein. ‘No, Abbas. I picked up a stone and threw it at the man. It hit him on the arm. Then he chased me all over the field, this very field in which we’re sitting, down that way and over there, by the trees. He caught me, of course – he was very fast, faster than me.’
    ‘And he beat you again?’ said Abbas.
    ‘No, he didn’t beat me again. He held me by my ear and laughed. Then he said, “Now you will work for me!” and he took me home to my father and told him that I must become his apprentice. And why? Because when I had stolen the honey, I had not angered the bees. This is a rare thing, to steal honey without making the bees angry. The beekeeper saw that I had something special to bring to the craft.’
    Ahmad Hussein drank some water from his bottle and passed it to Abbas.
    ‘The beekeeper who beat me that day, his name was Esmail Behishti. You knew him well.’
    Abbas’ eyes opened wide. ‘My grandfather!’
    ‘Yes. That famous man, your grandfather.’
    Ahmad Hussein could see that Abbas was distressed. Perhaps it was hearing that the very man he was mourning had once been capable of beating boys with a stick. Or perhaps he was upset to hear that Ahmad Hussein had thrown a stone at his grandfather, even though it was so long ago. He left the boy alone with