Barnabas sighed. “Perhaps you are right after all,” he said sadly. “But there is nothing for it. It is impossible, and we must put our work before all else. No, my silly thoughts must stay my own and my own alone.” He sighed again, heavily, and Wilfred put a comforting hand on his arm.
At that moment Muatep disappeared within the cave and they heard the heavy door slam shut. Barnabas stood up briskly, shaking his head as though to dispel his melancholia. “Shall we put this case to rest at last, then?” he said, offering a hand to help Wilfred up.
“Yes, let’s,” said Wilfred, and they were off to tell Anubis all that they had learned.
Chapter Twenty
They walked quickly back to the pier, anxious to be off before they were spied by Montu or any of his servants. Luckily, it took them very little time to see a passing boat plied by a man (or, at least, someone who passed for a man in these parts; neither Barnabas nor Wilfred was entirely certain what kind of animal the fellow was exactly). In any case, he was willing to take them back up the river for a small fee, and so they climbed aboard.
Once they had traveled a distance from Montu’s cave, Barnabas began to fiddle once more with the strings that affixed the basket to his head. “There is, after all, no need for these confounded things anymore,” he explained to Wilfred.
Wilfred quickly removed his basket whilst Barnabas continued to tug and pull at the hopelessly tightened knots of his own. Somehow, though, he merely managed to make everything tighter, so much tighter that, after a few minutes, he could scarcely breathe.
Without so much as a word let alone a question about his passengers’ strange choice of headgear, the boat operator reached beneath his seat, pulled out a small knife, and handed it to Barnabas.
Wilfred carefully removed it from Barnabas’ hands, which were beginning to flail about in a panic as the too-tight basket began to induce a state of claustrophobia, and quickly sawed through the strings. As soon as it was loosened enough, Barnabas tore the thing from his head, flung it so that it went entirely out of the boat and into the river, and hunched stiffly over, trying to catch his breath.
“Oughtn’t throw things in the river,” chided the man who owned the boat. “Just think what it would be like if everyone did that. A terrible mess it would be, wouldn’t it?”
“Huh,” grunted Barnabas. Wilfred noticed that his eyes were bugged out and his tongue lolled alarmingly out of his mouth as he panted heavily.
“Very sorry, sir,” said Wilfred to the man. “It shan’t happen again.” He turned back to Barnabas. “I say, are you quite alright? You look a bit, well, peaked.”
“Fine,” croaked Barnabas, although he looked anything but. “Splendid.”
“Of course,” said Wilfred, looking skeptically at Barnabas. “It’s just that your tongue seems a bit blue, and…”
“Well, look at that!” interrupted Barnabas briskly, pointing at the shore. “Here we are then. And in very good time, I might add.”
Wilfred looked and, sure enough, there was Anubis’ beach. The boatman pulled on the rudder and angled them towards it. Within minutes they had paid the fellow in pounds sterling (which the fellow scrutinized curiously but then accepted with a shrug) and were climbing from the boat onto the rocky shingle.
Wilfred cast a concerned glance towards Barnabas, still worried that he might be suffering adverse affects from being nearly garrotted by his basket. Barnabas, however, seemed to be quite recovered. The pink was steadily creeping back into his tongue and he was already setting off at a good clip across the beach, clearly excited to share their information with Anubis. Wilfred decided to leave well enough alone, and trotted to catch up to his employer.
“Come now! Do hurry!” called Barnabas over his shoulder. “Time is of the essence!” Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. Wilfred, all but running to catch up, nearly bowled him over.
“What’s the matter?” asked Wilfred, grasping on to the back of Barnabas’ robe to steady them both.
“Oh, be careful now, won’t you?” said Barnabas irascibly. He sighed. “I just, well, I pray that Anubis is actually here to hear our news. And more than that, I hope that Horus’ abominable sons aren’t here instead.”
“They weren’t so bad,” said Wilfred. “They did try to help, at least.”
“They were idiots,” said Barnabas simply, and Wilfred laughed.
“Yes, I suppose they were that indeed,” he said. “But I’m sure that they meant well.”
“Well-meaning idiots are idiots nonetheless,” said Barnabas. “And their help nearly killed me.”
“Well, we shall be more careful next time they try to help us,” suggested Wilfred (who, to tell the truth, had not much cared for his own uncomfortable basket disguise either). “Still,” he continued, “they are sons of a rather important god. We ought to be sure to be polite whilst carefully avoiding their help.”
“Precisely what I was just about to say,” said Barnabas. “It wouldn’t do to have Horus angry with us, since he’s related somehow to Anubis.”
“Cousins, they are,” supplied Wilfred.
“Yes, yes, exactly as I said,” said Barnabas.
“Of course,” said Wilfred patiently.
Barnabas sighed again. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to go ahead and hope for the best,” he said.
“Quite so,” agreed Wilfred.
They began walking again, this time at a more sedate pace. Barnabas seemed to be very much torn between excitement at sharing their findings and receiving what he imagined would be extraordinarily effusive accolades, and trepidation at the chance of once more being the subject of Horus’ sons’ misguided altruism. Therefore, when they rounded the boulder that marked the edge of Anubis’ throne room and saw the jackal-headed god himself sitting there, they were both much relieved.
Standing beside Anubis was a tall woman. She wore a great headdress made of what appeared to be the feathers of some enormous bird, and she held an even more enormous feather clasped in her hands in front of her.
Barnabas, in his excitement, somewhat rudely ignored the woman and nearly bounced straight up to Anubis, bursting with his news.
“We have found Khepre!” he announced grandly.
Anubis’ eyes widened. “You have?” he asked, incredulous. He looked from Barnabas to Wilfred and then all around the beach. Seeing no one other than the two detectives, he craned his head in an attempt to peer around the boulder. “Well,” he said at last, “where is he, then?”
“Oh!” said Barnabas. “Well, we don’t have him, exactly. But we know who took him.”
Anubis sighed and pressed a finger between his eyes, and shook his head. At last he looked up again. “So where, exactly, is he then?”
“Well, uh, he is… That is to say…,” began Barnabas, beginning to feel as though he may not have delivered the information in quite the right way.
“We believe that Montu kidnapped him,” said Wilfred helpfully.
“And why do you think that?” said Anubis. “Did you actually see Khepre or not?”
“Not exactly,” said Wilfred. He hurriedly continued as he saw Anubis’ eyes begin to roll. “But we saw his servant rolling great balls of dung out of his cave.”
Anubis stopped mid-eye roll. “Dung balls, you say?”
“Giant ones!” said Barnabas, recovering himself. “And since Khepre was on the council that deposed Montu, I’d say we have not only circumstantial evidence, in the form of the dung balls, but also a clear motive.”
“Indeed you do,” said Anubis. “It is certainly worth looking into.” He turned to the woman standing beside him. “Don’t you think, Ma’at?”
Ma’at nodded. “I do,” she said. “I’d like to see for myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” replied Anubis. “I’d expect nothing less. This is your area of expertise, after all.” He glanced at Barnabas and Wilfred. “If you don’t know, Ma’at is the goddess of judgment and justice, and she’ll d
eal with Montu if he is indeed guilty.”
Ma’at set off immediately. Anubis called after her. “Hurry back, please,” he said. “There’s going to be a terrific hailstorm in Cairo today and I expect we’ll need your feather.”
“Certainly,” called Ma’at over her shoulder. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” With that, she stretched her arms over her head, heaved herself up in a mighty leap into the air, and was gone flying like a cannonball towards Montu and, presumably, Khepre. Barnabas and Wilfred stood there looking confused.
“You do know about Ma’at’s feather, no?” asked Anubis when he saw them looking back and forth at each other.
“Of course we do,” said Barnabas, although he had absolutely no idea who Ma’at was or why her feather might be so important.
“Well, I don’t,” admitted Wilfred. “Could someone explain it to me, please?”
“Detective?” said Anubis. “Would you like to do the honors?”
“Uh, well…,” said Barnabas. He coughed several times. “I would, but I seem to have something in my throat.”
Anubis pursed his lips in disapproval before turning to Wilfred. “Ma’at’s feather,” he said, “is the very feather used to judge the weight of a dead person’s heart. If the heart weighs more than the feather, then they can’t proceed into the afterlife.”
“Ah, I see,” said Wilfred. “We knew about the feather, of course, but not to whom it belonged.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Barnabas, his cough entirely forgotten. “So the hailstorm…”
“Indeed!” said Anubis (a bit too happily, Barnabas thought). “Lots of new arrivals today!”
“Well, that’s…nice?” said Barnabas.
“Yes, well, it won’t be so nice if Ma’at isn’t back in time,” said Anubis. “Nothing worse than a backlog of dead people cluttering your beach, eh?”
“I’m sure,” said Barnabas politely.
“Ah well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Ma’at will make short work of Montu, if he does indeed have Khepre held prisoner.”
“I do hope so,” said Barnabas, and Wilfred nodded his agreement.
“And once Ma’at has returned with Khepre safely in tow, then the two of you can be on your way,” continued Anubis. “With your compensation for a job well done, of course.”
“Splendid!” said Barnabas. “Will you be putting us back into the museum, then? Or perhaps you might deposit us at home straightaway instead. Oh yes, I do think that I would much prefer home to the museum, if you don’t mind.”
“Museum? Home?” asked Anubis frowning. “Why ever would you want to go to those places?”
“Well, as I said, I’d much prefer to go home. The museum has been a bit, well, spoiled for me in light of recent events.”
“I’m sure,” said Anubis. “I was wondering why you’d want to be all cooped up in a sarcophagus. Being a mummy isn’t a great deal of fun, you see. Although I’m not certain that being a ghost would be much better.”
“Quite so,” said Barnabas. Then he saw the unhappy, slightly shocked expression on Wilfred’s pale face and replayed Anubis’ words in his mind. “Wait! What?” he said. “A mummy? A ghost? Why on earth would we want to be either of those?”
“Well, what else can you be when you’re dead?” Anubis pointed out reasonably. “Those are the things that dead people are when they are in a museum or a home, respectively.”
“But I don’t want to be either of those!” cried Barnabas. “And I’m certain that Wilfred feels the same.” Wilfred nodded vehemently in agreement.
“Then why did you ask to be in the museum or your house?” asked Anubis, perplexed.
“Because I want to go home, of course!” sputtered Barnabas, outraged.
“So you do want to be a mummy or a ghost?” said Anubis, confusion written on his face.
“No!” cried Barnabas. “I want to be a living person, of course, as we were before you so rudely abducted us.”
“Oh,” said Anubis, looking a bit abashed now. “Well, you see, that’s just not possible.
“What in heaven’s name are you saying?” said Barnabas, flapping his hands in frustration. “You took us from there, so just put us back there.”
“As I said, it is not possible,” said Anubis. “You are dead, you see.”
“Made so by you,” said Barnabas.
“Of course,” agreed Anubis. “Terribly sorry about that.”
“So if you did it, then it follows that you can undo it,” said Barnabas.
“Well,” said Anubis, “it doesn’t really work that way. Once you’re dead, you’re dead, and there’s nothing that anyone can do about that.”
“This is most egregious! Completely unacceptable!” yelled Barnabas, in a fine temper now.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Anubis diplomatically. “But you’ll be well rewarded in the afterlife. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”
“It most certainly will not be!” said Barnabas.
“And you won’t even have to stand in line with the others. I’ll see that you pass right on in,” said Anubis as though he and Barnabas were in accord on the matter.
“But I don’t want to pass right on in,” said Barnabas. “I want to go home.”
“And I’ll make sure that Ma’at weighs your hearts against a heavier feather,” continued Anubis, winking. “Being friends with a god does have some benefits, you see.”
“A heavier feather?” sniffed Barnabas, offended. “As though Wilfred or I have any need of that.”
“Well, it never hurts to be on the safe side,” said Anubis.
“Speaking of Ma’at, by the way,” interjected Wilfred (being a practical man, he had resigned himself to the inevitability of remaining in the Egyptian afterlife forever a bit faster than Barnabas and had noticed that quite a bit of time seemed to have gone by. “Shouldn’t she be back by now?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Barnabas and Wilfred stood alone, forgotten for a time, as Anubis called for his advisors and minions to attend him. Ma’at had indeed been gone for far too long and the entire place was in an uproar. Everyone ran about trying to figure out what could possibly be delaying her.
Suddenly, Anubis’ four obnoxious minions came scurrying in (the very ones that had escorted Barnabas and Wilfred from the ferry upon their first arrival and then again after the unfortunate incident on Elephantine Isle). They dashed up to Anubis with utmost haste. The little tiger whispered urgently into Anubis’ ear, whose face went rigid with shock and displeasure. Their business was apparently of the greatest importance; indeed, the canary spared only a moment for the smallest of snarls in Barnabas’ direction before they all hurried off together in a tiny, agitated cluster.
“Stupid fluffy yellow meat-bagger,” muttered Barnabas, almost inaudibly.
“Barnabas!” hissed a shocked Wilfred. “I say!”
“Well he is,” grumbled Barnabas, shuffling his feet and scowling.
“Detectives!” yelled Anubis. Wilfred was startled, but he was also afraid the god may have heard his employer’s provocative remark and been angered by it; Barnabas jumped guiltily for the same reason.
“Whatever is the matter with the two of you?” snapped Anubis, shaking his head at the sight of the slightly cringing detectives. “Get over here immediately. You are detectives, and we need you to, well, detect please.”
“Of course, of course,” said Barnabas. “At your service.” He and Wilfred hurried back over to Anubis. “What then shall we detect exactly?”
“Why, Ma’at, of course. You sent Ma’at after Montu and now she’s missing. Have you not been paying attention?”
“A detective always pays attention,” sniffed Barnabas, somewhat miffed by the implication that he was not performing up to expectations. “And he waits to act until all of the information has come in.”
“Well,” said Anubis, “I can’t imagine what more information might come in—unless the detectives I hired might see fit to go out and col
lect some, that is.”
“Yes, that would be just the thing,” said Barnabas.
Everyone looked at Barnabas, waiting for him to do as Anubis asked, but he just stood there looking about with a somewhat prim expression on his face.
“So go!” boomed Anubis. “Now! And don’t come back until you find Ma’at!”
“Cheep!” chirped Barnabas, his mouse instincts taking over with the fright of being yelled at by the great jackal-headed god.
Wilfred took his arm and led him away, bowing first to Anubis and saying placatingly, “We shall do our utmost to bring her back safely.”
“And be quick about it!” shouted Anubis after them, making Barnabas jump and cheep once more.
As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Barnabas said huffily, “Well, he’s certainly a fine fellow to speak to us so.”
“Quite rude,” agreed Wilfred.
“Most incredibly rude,” asserted Barnabas.
“And terribly unfair, too,” added Wilfred.
“Indeed!” said Barnabas. “It’s not as if we insisted that Ma’at go off on her own, or as if we had any way of knowing that she’d not be coming back.”
“We most definitely did not,” said Wilfred.
“Still,” sighed Barnabas, “I suppose we’d better do our best to find her. I don’t relish the idea of provoking his temper again, as we are sure to do if we return without her.”
“That is the best plan, I’m sure,” said Wilfred. “Where shall we begin?”
“Well,” said Barnabas, thinking. Wilfred waited patiently, but the moments stretched on until he began to wonder if perhaps Barnabas hadn’t forgotten entirely what they were about.
“If I may offer a suggestion?” Wilfred asked tentatively.
“Of course,” said Barnabas quickly.
“Perhaps we ought to query the neighborhood. You know, ask folk if they’ve seen Ma’at in the vicinity of Montu’s place. It would be awfully difficult to forget seeing such a tall lady with a great big feather on her head, I should think.”
Barnabas Tew and The Case Of The Missing Scarab Page 21