The Story of St. Vespaluus Page #2

"The Story of St. Vespaluus" by Hector Hugh Munro, also known as Saki, is a satirical short story that explores themes of religious hypocrisy and the absurdities of human behavior. Set in a whimsical world, the narrative follows the eccentric tale of St. Vespaluus, whose unconventional life and miraculous feats challenge societal norms and expectations. Through dark humor and clever storytelling, Munro critiques the nature of belief and the often ridiculous lengths to which people will go in the name of piety. The story is emblematic of Saki's sharp wit and keen observations of Edwardian society.

• Short story

								

and he was not in the least so minded.  For a day and a half he sat
apart and brooded, and every one thought he was debating within himself
the question of the young prince's death or pardon; as a matter of fact
he was merely thinking out the manner of the boy's death.  As the thing
had to be done, and was bound to attract an enormous amount of public
attention in any case, it was as well to make it as spectacular and
impressive as possible.

"'Apart from his unfortunate taste in religions;' said the king, 'and
his obstinacy in adhering to it, he is a sweet and pleasant youth,
therefore it is meet and fitting that he should be done to death by the
winged envoys of sweetness.'

"'Your Majesty means--?' said the Royal Librarian.

"'I mean,' said the king, 'that he shall be stung to death by bees.  By
the royal bees, of course.'

"'A most elegant death,' said the Librarian.

"'Elegant and spectacular, and decidedly painful,' said the king; 'it
fulfils all the conditions that could be wished for.'

"The king himself thought out all the details of the execution
ceremony.  Vespaluus was to be stripped of his clothes, his hands were
to be bound behind him, and he was then to be slung in a recumbent
position immediately above three of the largest of the royal beehives,
so that the least movement of his body would bring him in jarring
contact with them.  The rest could be safely left to the bees.  The
death throes, the king computed, might last anything from fifteen to
forty minutes, though there was division of opinion and considerable
wagering among the other nephews as to whether death might not be
almost instantaneous, or, on the other hand, whether it might not be
deferred for a couple of hours. Anyway, they all agreed, it was vastly
preferable to being thrown down into an evil smelling bear-pit and
being clawed and mauled to death by imperfectly carnivorous animals.

"It so happened, however, that the keeper of the royal hives had
leanings towards Christianity himself, and moreover, like most of the
Court officials, he was very much attached to Vespaluus.  On the eve of
the execution, therefore, he busied himself with removing the stings
from all the royal bees; it was a long and delicate operation, but he
was an expert bee-master, and by working hard nearly all night he
succeeded in disarming all, or almost all, of the hive inmates."

"I didn't know you could take the sting from a live bee," said the
Baroness incredulously.

"Every profession has its secrets," replied Clovis; "if it hadn't it
wouldn't be a profession.  Well, the moment for the execution arrived;
the king and Court took their places, and accommodation was found for
as many of the populace as wished to witness the unusual spectacle.
Fortunately the royal bee-yard was of considerable dimensions, and was
commanded, moreover, by the terraces that ran round the royal gardens;
with a little squeezing and the erection of a few platforms room was
found for everybody. Vespaluus was carried into the open space in front
of the hives, blushing and slightly embarrassed, but not at all
displeased at the attention which was being centred on him."

"He seems to have resembled you in more things than in appearance,"
said the Baroness.

"Don't interrupt at a critical point in the story," said Clovis. "As
soon as he had been carefully adjusted in the prescribed position over
the hives, and almost before the gaolers had time to retire to a safe
distance, Vespaluus gave a lusty and well-aimed kick, which sent all
three hives toppling one over another.  The next moment he was wrapped
from head to foot in bees; each individual insect nursed the dreadful
and humiliating knowledge that in this supreme hour of catastrophe it
could not sting, but each felt that it ought to pretend to.  Vespaluus
squealed and wriggled with laughter, for he was being tickled nearly to
death, and now and again he gave a furious kick and used a bad word as
one of the few bees that had escaped disarmament got its protest home.
But the spectators saw with amazement that he showed no signs of
approaching death agony, and as the bees dropped wearily away in
clusters from his body his flesh was seen to be as white and smooth as
before the ordeal, with a shiny glaze from the honey-smear of
innumerable bee-feet, and here and there a small red spot where one of
the rare stings had left its mark.  It was obvious that a miracle had
been performed in his favour, and one loud murmur, of astonishment or
exultation, rose from the onlooking crowd.  The king gave orders for
Vespaluus to be taken down to await further orders, and stalked
silently back to his midday meal, at which he was careful to eat
heartily and drink copiously as though nothing unusual had happened.
After dinner he sent for the Royal Librarian.

"'What is the meaning of this fiasco?' he demanded.

"'Your Majesty,' said that official, 'either there is something
radically wrong with the bees--'

"'There is nothing wrong with my bees,' said the king haughtily, 'they
are the best bees.'

"'Or else,' said the Librarian, 'there is something irremediably right
about Prince Vespaluus.'

"'If Vespaluus is right I must be wrong,' said the king.

"The Librarian was silent for a moment.  Hasty speech has been the
downfall of many; ill-considered silence was the undoing of the
luckless Court functionary.

"Forgetting the restraint due to his dignity, and the golden rule which
imposes repose of mind and body after a heavy meal, the king rushed
upon the keeper of the royal books and hit him repeatedly and
promiscuously over the head with an ivory chessboard, a pewter
wine-flagon, and a brass candlestick; he knocked him violently and
often against an iron torch sconce, and kicked him thrice round the
banqueting chamber with rapid, energetic kicks.  Finally, he dragged
him down a long passage by the hair of his head and flung him out of a
window into the courtyard below."

"Was he much hurt?" asked the Baroness.

"More hurt than surprised," said Clovis.  You see, the king was
notorious for his violent temper.  However, this was the first time he
had let himself go so unrestrainedly on the top of a heavy meal.  The
Librarian lingered for many days--in fact, for all I know, he may have
ultimately recovered, but Hkrikros died that same evening.  Vespaluus
had hardly finished getting the honey stains off his body before a
hurried deputation came to put the coronation oil on his head.  And
what with the publicly-witnessed miracle and the accession of a
Christian sovereign, it was not surprising that there was a general
scramble of converts to the new religion.  A hastily consecrated bishop
was overworked with a rush of baptisms in the hastily improvised
Cathedral of St. Odilo. And the boy-martyr-that-might-have-been was
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