Barnabas Tew and The Case Of The Missing Scarab

by Columbkill Noonan

  “Why, that’s exactly what I was thinking to do,” said Barnabas.

  “Of course,” said Wilfred.

  “I would have said it, only I was just thinking through all of the possible permutations of the plan,” insisted Barnabas.

  “I’m sure,” said Wilfred amicably. “Were any permutations deleterious?”

  “No. Well, ah, that is to say… I suppose all permutations were quite un-deleterious,” said Barnabas doubtfully.

  “Splendid!” said Wilfred. “Then we have our course laid out for us.”

  “Indeed we do,” said Barnabas. He pointed to a small cluster of buildings on the bank of the river, their sloped thatch roofs just visible in the distance. “Let’s start there. I believe I remember seeing a small town whilst we were on Anti’s ferry going to Montu’s the first time, and I’m sure that must be it.”

  Wilfred agreed and so they set off walking towards the town. Barnabas, deep in thought, remained silent for a while, until Wilfred at last asked him if anything was amiss.

  “No,” said Barnabas slowly. He chewed his lip as he considered the little town that they were even now approaching. “It’s just that…”

  “Yes?” prompted Wilfred. “What is it?”

  “Well, things aren’t quite adding up is all,” said Barnabas.

  “How so?” asked Wilfred.

  “Consider, for example, the motive. We’ve assumed that Montu wanted revenge and therefore kidnapped Khepre. But why, then, Ma’at?”

  “Hmm,” said Wilfred, thinking. “Perhaps she simply got in the way? Or to keep her from rescuing Khepre?”

  “But to what end?” argued Barnabas, surprising Wilfred with the astuteness of his question. “What, exactly, does Montu have to gain from kidnapping Khepre, and then Ma’at as well, other than the enmity of Anubis? And, I’m sure, Osiris as well. And why, if he wanted vengeance, would he take it only on Khepre?”

  “I’m not quite sure I follow,” said Wilfred.

  “Khepre wasn’t the only, um, person on that council was he?” Barnabas pointed out (a bit pedantically, thought Wilfred). “And I’m sure that he wasn’t the most important either.”

  “Ah,” said Wilfred. “I see what you’re saying, but if that’s so, then we’ve been coming at this problem all wrong.”

  “Indeed we have, my boy. Indeed we have,” said Barnabas.

  “Have you any ideas as to what, then, might be going on?” asked Wilfred.

  “I do,” said Barnabas, and then paused for dramatic effect. Wilfred waited patiently for as long as one could be expected to (and then a bit longer as well) but when no answer was forthcoming he rolled his hand to hurry Barnabas along.

  “I think,” said Barnabas slowly, “that perhaps Khepre was not the target after all.” He took in Wilfred’s expression of shock triumphantly as the implications of his assertion struck his assistant.

  “Ma’at, then?” gasped Wilfred.

  “Of course. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” said Barnabas.

  “But,” said Wilfred, “if that is the case, how did Montu know that Ma’at would be the one to come to Khepre’s rescue and not someone else?”

  “Who else would be sent?” said Barnabas. “Ma’at is the goddess of justice, no? Of course she’d be the one to go.”

  “If what you say is correct, then this is an incredibly complex and sophisticated plot,” said Wilfred. “Which means we have woefully underestimated our opponent.”

  “Indeed,” said Barnabas. “I think that we have done exactly that.”

  “But to have deduced all of this,” said Wilfred admiringly, “is most impressive.”

  Barnabas nodded graciously, but Wilfred saw that he stood up a bit straighter and puffed up his chest with pride. Barnabas’ self-admiration was short-lived, however. A lingering doubt niggled at him and he visibly deflated.

  “Is something the matter?” asked Wilfred with concern, detecting the quick change in his employer’s mood.

  Barnabas sighed. “It’s nothing, I suppose,” he said. “Only… Well, I’m still bothered by the question of Khepre’s servants.”

  Wilfred forcibly restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure that it’s nothing. You’ve figured out the main problem, I’m sure.”

  “Have I?” said Barnabas, a melancholy air taking over his demeanor as though he were a heart-broken maid staring longingly across a misty moor. He sighed again. “Perhaps I have,” he said. “Or perhaps I haven’t.”

  “I really feel that the servants aren’t that im…”

  “I know, I know,” interrupted Barnabas. “And mayhap you are correct. Nevertheless, the question shall bother me until we’ve figured it out entirely.”

  “Perhaps it will become clear once we’ve found Ma’at,” suggested Wilfred.

  “Perhaps,” said Barnabas doubtfully.

  “Shouldn’t we go back to Anubis directly then?” said Wilfred. “With this new information?”

  “Not just yet, I think,” said Barnabas. “We still ought to ask about to see if anyone has actually seen Ma’at just to make sure. Besides, we’ve just about reached the town and I’m feeling a bit peckish to tell the truth.”

  They had, in fact, made it to the very edge of the town even as they concluded their conversation. Luckily, the first building they saw was an inn, and they entered it, eager for both food and news.

  They were disappointed in neither; the moment they passed through the door they were greeted first by a host, who escorted them quickly to a table and promised to hurry back with a “feast fit for a pharaoh” and secondly by none other than Mr. Kesim Kafele.

  “Why, Mr. Kafele!” exclaimed Barnabas with genuine pleasure. The three of them shook hands heartily, and after exchanging pleasantries, agreed to sit down and enjoy the coming repast together.

  “How come you to be here?” asked Mr. Kafele. “Not to pry, of course, but the Egyptian afterlife seems an odd place to run into two London detectives!”

  They quickly filled in their erstwhile client on their recent experiences as the host brought out the most delightful assortment of foods and placed it on the table in front of them. They immediately set to, talking as they ate.

  After offering his apologies for recommending them to Anubis (which were politely waved away as being entirely unnecessary, although Barnabas privately thought that it was recommendation that he could have done very well without), Mr. Kafele became thoughtful.

  “So, Montu kidnapped Khepre in order to trap Ma’at?” he said.

  “That is what we think,” said Barnabas. “Indeed, I think it must be the only answer that adequately fits the evidence.”

  “A dastardly plan indeed!” said Mr. Kafele.

  “Diabolically ingenious, really,” agreed Barnabas.

  “And Khepre’s servants are now working for Montu, you say?” wondered Mr. Kafele.

  “Indeed they are,” said Barnabas. “And for Anti as well.”

  “Anti, too?” asked Mr. Kafele, scratching his chin. “Odd, that.”

  Barnabas shot a triumphant look at Wilfred. “Exactly what I thought,” he said.

  Mr. Kafele thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Still,” he said at last, “I can’t think that the answer is anything other than what you’ve come up with. Although Anti was acting a bit strange just now.”

  “Anti was?” asked Barnabas, his ears pricking like a hound on a scent. “How so? When?”

  “Why, just now, right before you arrived,” said Mr. Kafele. “He docked his boat a few minutes ago, and was practically prancing about town, such a good mood he was in.”

  “Prancing?” asked Barnabas, trying to reconcile the idea of a happily prancing falcon with the taciturn ferryman with whom he was acquainted.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Kafele. “Prancing. Strutting about in the most grandiose fashion. He had even plucked one of his feathers and put it on his head, just so.” Mr. Kafele had taken a stick of celery and
placed it upright on his forehead.

  “Oh dear!” cried Barnabas, leaping up and startling both Wilfred and Mr. Kafele. “Oh sweet mother of pearl, we have been blind, I say, blind!”

  “Barnabas,” said Wilfred, “whatever are you on about? Do calm down!”

  “Nay!” said Barnabas. “The time for calm has passed. Now is the time for action. Come, Wilfred. Make haste!”

  Wilfred complied after a rueful look at all of the food that was still uneaten, and Mr. Kafele looked at both of them with no small amount of confusion.

  “Terribly sorry,” called Barnabas to Mr. Kafele as he hustled Wilfred out of the inn. “But we really must be going. You’ve been most helpful!”

  He rushed out of the inn with Wilfred close on his heels. He looked about, spied a dock with Anti’s boat tied up to it, and pointed. “Aha!” he said. “He’s still here. We’re not too late.”

  Even as he spoke, Anti emerged from a building on the other side of the dock and began walking towards his boat. Indeed the falcon did have a jaunty bounce to his step that Barnabas was certain hadn’t been there before, and he whistled a happy tune as he swaggered towards the dock.

  “Hurry now,” urged Barnabas. “We must get on that boat!” He grabbed Wilfred by the hand and practically dragged him down the street. As they got closer, however, he stopped suddenly and leaned in to whisper in Wilfred’s ear. “Try not to look excited,” he warned, “or suspicious. We don’t want to tip him off.” Wilfred, who had no idea what was going on, thought the request supremely easy to comply with.

  They slowed their pace so that they walked up to the pier rather sedately (Barnabas with studied nonchalance; Wilfred with confused hesitation). They reached Anti’s ferryboat just as he was preparing to untie the ropes and cast off.

  “I say, old friend,” said Barnabas a bit too heartily. “Could you give us a ride back to Anubis’ place?” He patted his belly. “We’ve had a bit too much to eat, and you know what they say about walking with a full belly.”

  “Uh, no, what do they say?” asked Anti.

  “Well, um, that is, that you oughtn’t do it?” said Barnabas, without being at all sure that anyone at all had ever said such a thing.

  “Oh,” said Anti. He shrugged. “All right, then, I suppose I could go out of my way for my two old friends. Hop on in!” he said with uncharacteristic cheerfulness.

  Barnabas and Wilfred climbed aboard and took their customary seats in the front of the boat whilst Anti took the helm in the back.

  “So,” said Anti. “Any luck on the investigation?”

  Barnabas shot a warning glance to silence Wilfred, who had opened his mouth to speak.

  “Not much. Indeed, we’ve had quite a setback. It looks as if Montu has made off with Ma’at now in addition to Khepre,” said Barnabas, feigning an air of dejection but peeping up slyly through downturned lashes to observe Anti’s reaction. He was not disappointed. A smile pulled at the corners of the fellow’s beak.

  “Ah, that Montu!” chirped Anti happily. “You’ve got to watch out for the likes of him!”

  “Indeed, he has quite foiled us at every turn,” said Barnabas.

  “No shame in that,” said Anti. “You wouldn’t be the first to be fooled by one of the old gods. People tend to underestimate us…uh, them, you know.”

  “Yes, I do know,” said Barnabas. “I suppose the likes of Wilfred and I never really had a chance against such a wily mind as Montu’s.”

  “Never in life!” agreed Anti.

  “So,” said Barnabas, “I wonder what will happen now that Ma’at is gone. What with the need for a feather to weigh against the hearts of the dead and all.”

  “Well,” replied Anti, preening his own feathers a bit. “I suppose Anubis will be needing a new feather, won’t he?”

  Wilfred’s eyes widened and he caught Barnabas’s eye. Barnabas nodded and winked as he saw his assistant come to the same conclusion that he had whilst talking with Mr. Kafele.

  “Yes,” he said to Anti, feigning supreme naivety. “I suppose he will. I wonder where he will get one.”

  Anti pursed his beak primly and looked regally off into the distance. “I wonder,” he said grandly. “Perhaps a falcon’s feather might do just as well as an ostrich’s. Just a thought, of course.”

  “Of course, and a splendid one at that,” said Barnabas.

  “Yes, it is!” agreed Anti. Done now with talking, the falcon turned his attention to the river and sang happily to himself in a raspy, terribly off-key voice.

  Seeing their host distracted, Wilfred turned to Barnabas. “Can it be?” he hissed.

  “I think very much so,” whispered Barnabas. “Anti means to take Ma’at’s place. He wants to bear the feather that judges the hearts of the dead. He wants to be the god of judgment and justice!”

  “But it is incredible! Ma’at was the target all along!” said Wilfred.

  “It certainly would seem so,” agreed Barnabas. “But we mustn’t let him know we know, because, if he knows we know, it may put Ma’at in even more danger than she is in now.”

  “And we still have to find out where, exactly, she is, so we can rescue her,” said Wilfred, nodding at Barnabas’ sagacity.

  “Exactly,” said Barnabas a bit testily, for he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead just yet. “Anyway, we must be quiet, act normal, and not raise his suspicions in the slightest.”

  Soon enough they reached the landing by Anubis’ throne room. “Thank you very much,” said Barnabas, sticking out his hand. He was attempting nonchalance but ended up seeming quite stiff and awkward instead, since Anti had no hand to shake, only wings. So, Barnabas grasped the tip of a wing feather and shook it, instead.

  “Goodbye!” said Wilfred heartily. “Good luck to you! See you soon, I’m sure!”

  “Not too soon, though,” said Barnabas. “I mean, we shall see you the next time we need a ride, I’m sure, but not before that because why else would we see you?”

  “Unless we run into you in town, of course,” supplied Wilfred. Both he and Barnabas were a bit flustered at being in the presence of an arch villain, and both were talking far too much to cover up their nervousness.

  “Or wherever!” cheeped Barnabas. “Either way, good to see you, I’m sure!”

  “Quite good,” agreed Wilfred.

  “All right, then,” said Anti, looking now as though he were eager to be off and away from his annoying passengers. Barnabas and Wilfred, out of nonsensical things to say, closed their mouths and reached for the wooden pilings.

  And so the two detectives climbed out of Anti’s ferry and, trying very hard not to appear as though they were suspicious of Anti and rushing to tell Anubis about it, hurried off, anxious and agog to tell Anubis the news.

  As they rounded the boulder and entered Anubis’ throne room, however, they stopped short in their tracks, aghast.

  “Mrs. Crowder!” gasped Barnabas. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mrs. Crowder sat behind a long, low table in front of Anubis’ throne. There was a long line of people in front of the table and a great lot of paperwork on top of it. Mrs. Crowder held a pen in one hand and what seemed to be a very lengthy list in the other.

  The people who stood in the line seemed to be in varying stages of distress. Some were merely very old and frail, but others seemed to be a bit damaged or perhaps not entirely intact. These wore bruises or cuts or wounds of various severity, and quite a few of them appeared to be sopping wet.

  “Oh dear,” groaned Wilfred. “The hailstorm.”

  “Oh my,” said Barnabas. “But how comes Mrs. Crowder to be here?” He considered her carefully. “She doesn’t seem, well, drowned does she? Or hailed upon?”

  Barnabas and Wilfred watched as their landlady briskly and efficiently greeted each person who approached the table in turn. She asked a few questions of each, consulted her list, and made quick notes upon the list with her pen.

  At the so
und of Barnabas’ shocked exclamation, she paused in the middle of greeting a particularly damp and battered-looking individual and looked up, a happy smile of recognition on her face.

  “Why, Barnabas! Wilfred!” she exclaimed. “How nice to see you! Anubis told me you’ve been quite busy.” She beamed with pleasure.

  “But Mrs. Crowder,” said Barnabas. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well that’s a fine way to greet an old friend,” chided Mrs. Crowder good-naturedly.

  “My apologies,” said Barnabas hastily. “Of course I’m happy to see you. It’s just, well, you know, um, that is, do you know…” He broke off and looked to Wilfred for help as he failed to come up with a polite way to ask Mrs. Crowder if she were aware of the implications of where she was. Wilfred, however, was as much at a loss as his employer and simply stood there with an overly wide smile on his face.

  “Oh my,” said Barnabas again.

  “Whatever is the matter with you two?” asked Mrs. Crowder, chuckling a bit to herself as she saw that the two of them were quite unchanged since she had last seen them.

  “Well,” said Barnabas. “Um, well. Huh. You do know that everyone here is not quite, well, alive?”

  “Well I should think that would be obvious,” said Mrs. Crowder. “That is why I’m here, you see.” She took in the blank look on Barnabas’ face and the stiff smile on Wilfred’s and sighed. “The dead people were piling up. So Anubis set me to cataloguing them and sorting them into groups until he’s found a feather or some-such.”

  “Cataloguing?” asked Barnabas. “Groups?”

  Mrs. Crowder leaned forward as if to whisper conspiratorially, though everyone in line could obviously hear her. “Yes, groups,” she said. “I am to sort them out into those I think will pass the test and those I think will not.” The people standing in line looked alarmed.

  Mrs. Crowder made a mark on her list and smiled distractedly at the fellow who stood in front of her now before waving him on. Barnabas and Wilfred looked after him and saw that there were indeed two clusters of people, one quite large and one very small in comparison. Both were guarded by Anubis’ attendants and kept entirely separate from each other.