Barnabas Tew and The Case Of The Missing Scarab

by Columbkill Noonan

  “Just as I said,” said Sobek.

  “Plus this one,” Barnabas said, wagging his head to indicate Sobek, “might gobble us up once we’re off his back.”

  “How many times do I have to assure you that I’m not planning on eating you?” sighed Sobek.

  “So it seems that our safest course is to stay precisely where we are,” said Wilfred.

  “Exactly,” said Barnabas. “Once we are on dry land we can make our escape.”

  “Or ask for Hathor’s help,” said Sobek.

  “Hathor’s help?” exclaimed Wilfred, acknowledging Sobek at last. “Why would we do that? Haven’t you heard a word we’ve said?”

  “You should really try to listen better,” chided Barnabas.

  Sobek chuffed in exasperation once more. “All right,” he said with exaggerated patience. “If you’d just listen for a moment, I have something important to say.”

  “Huh,” said Barnabas, offended by Sobek’s condescending tone. “As if we were the ones who don’t listen.”

  “Preposterous,” agreed Wilfred.

  “Are you finished? Can I talk now?” asked Sobek a bit more loudly.

  “Very well then,” said Barnabas. “If you’d just get on with it, then.”

  Sobek rolled his eyes and gnashed his teeth a bit in annoyance. Perhaps, he thought, it would be easier to just eat the two high-strung detectives, after all. He immediately thought better of it, though. They would probably give him heartburn and besides, as unlikely a set of heroes as they seemed, still he needed them in order to rescue Khepre and get the infernal sun moving again. Therefore, he mustered all the patience he could find and tried again.

  “Hathor is not working with Montu,” he said. “Indeed, she doesn’t much like him at all.”

  “But, why then was he there with her when we saw her the first time?” asked Barnabas.

  “Because she likes to keep an eye on those she mistrusts,” said Sobek.

  “Why does she mistrust Montu?” asked Barnabas.

  “Well,” said Sobek, “Hathor is a bit of a feminist, you see. And Montu behaves as if the female goddesses are beneath the male gods. To be honest, I think Hathor simply enjoys putting him in his place from time to time.”

  “She did seem a bit snippy with him,” conceded Wilfred.

  “That she did, as though she relished being able to command him,” said Barnabas.

  “And for his part, Montu seemed to resent her authority quite a bit,” said Wilfred.

  “And if Hathor, feminist that she is, were to hear that Montu and Anti had kidnapped Ma’at in addition to Khepre…,” said Sobek.

  “She would be quite angry about it!” said Wilfred excitedly.

  “Exactly,” said Sobek.

  Barnabas thought for a moment. “Exactly,” he said at last, slowly. “So why is that good for us, I wonder?”

  “Why, because when Hathor gets angry, all hell breaks loose!” said Sobek.

  “Remember the story of her being so enraged that she laid waste to all of Egypt?”added Wilfred. “The only way they could stop her was to trick her into drinking beer so that she fell asleep.”

  Sobek chuckled. “The only thing Hathor likes better than social justice for women is beer,” he said.

  “So we want Hathor to destroy Egypt?” asked Barnabas, still not understanding the point of all of this.

  “Exactly,” said Sobek. “With her rage directed at Montu and Anti, well, let’s just say it’ll be quite a show.” He chuckled diabolically (which, in truth, is the only way that a crocodile can chuckle). Wilfred cast an alarmed glance at his employer, but Barnabas was far too excited to pay any heed.

  “And whilst they are occupied with a furious and rampaging cow goddess, we can sneak in and rescue Ma’at and Khepre!” exclaimed Barnabas, as proudly as if he had come up with the entire plan himself.

  “And we won’t even have to seek Anubis’ help,” added Wilfred. “He will be very pleased with us, I’m sure.”

  “Quite so,” said Barnabas. “Perhaps then we will be rewarded at last for all of our work.” He paused, considering. “And besides, I’m not entirely certain that Anubis would be much help even if we were to ask him,” he said, his voice hushed conspiratorially.

  “No?” asked Wilfred.

  “Not in the slightest, actually,” replied Barnabas. “Think about it. How has he helped us thus far?”

  Wilfred thought, and finally shrugged. “I’m sure I cannot think of one instance, really. Except maybe to hail a chariot for us,” he suggested diplomatically.

  “Huh,” sniffed Barnabas. “I would posit that he has not helped us in any sort of material way even once. Indeed, I might even venture to say that the only thing he has really accomplished so far in this business is simply killing people to bring them here!”

  “That is a bit harsh,” chided Wilfred, “don’t you think?”

  “Nay!” said Barnabas. “On the contrary. It is a most fair assessment.”

  “Extremely fair,” interjected Sobek. “Anubis is a bit of a cumberworld.”

  “Precisely,” agreed Barnabas. “He is most ineffectual. Why, when we told him who had Khepre the only thing he accomplished was to send Ma’at to get kidnapped too!”

  “I suppose you do have a point,” conceded Wilfred. “Although I’m sure he’s trying, at least.”

  “Well, trying isn’t going to get the sun moving again, is what I always say,” said Barnabas (for the first time, of course). “So it is time we take matters into our own hands.”

  “Now you see the way of it,” said Sobek, chuckling again with delight. (This time Barnabas did notice the menace, the inherent creepiness of the sound, and realized it wouldn’t do to forget that Sobek could be quite dangerous. He might be a crocodile who was currently in agreement with the detectives, but still, he was a crocodile nonetheless). Barnabas looked to Wilfred and raised an eyebrow in warning. Wilfred, for his part, silently resolved to keep a wary eye on Sobek, just in case he turned coat and decided to gobble them up after all.

  “Hmm, yes, well,” said Barnabas uncomfortably. “I think that we do, indeed.” Again he shot a pointed glance towards Wilfred to be certain his assistant understood the double meaning behind his words. Wilfred nodded to indicate that he did.

  It was with some relief, therefore, that they heard Sobek suddenly exclaim, “Look! Here we are already. May I present (again, I suppose), Hathor’s palace!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lifting up their robes, which had nearly dried by now and neither detective particularly enjoyed the feeling of soggy clothing, to avoid wetting them, Barnabas and Wilfred hastily climbed off Sobek’s back. Their feet splashed in the shallow water as they hurried to get to the relative safety of the shoreline. Neither entirely trusted Sobek even now, and they were acutely aware of the fact that there was a potentially hungry crocodile with a definitively treacherous personality directly behind them. Therefore, they ran through the water with their knees high, each feeling as if Sobek’s gnashing jaws were mere inches from his ankles. But when they reached land and turned around, they saw that Sobek hadn’t moved and was instead watching them with laughing eyes and a giant grin on his snout.

  “Well,” snorted Sobek, “that was amusing. I’d almost think that you don’t trust me, even though I’ve told you quite a few times I have no interest in eating you.”

  “Heavens, no,” said Barnabas, afraid that they had insulted Sobek with their obvious distrust, and might thereby invite him to reconsider his pledge to leave them undevoured. “The water was cold, is all. Most unpleasant on the feet, really.”

  “And the sand was squishy,” added Wilfred. “Very disgusting.” He proffered up a mud-encrusted foot as proof of the disgusting nature of the sand.

  “Extremely disgusting,” said Barnabas, regarding his own feet with some dismay. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that Wilfred mentioned it he found the feeling of wet sand stuck betwixt his toes most unpleasant.

/>   “All right, then,” said Sobek. “I’ll be off now. Best of luck with Hathor!” With that, the crocodile god submerged and was gone from sight. Only a few bubbles rising up from the depths betrayed the fact that he had been there at all.

  “Thanks!” called out Barnabas, certain that Sobek couldn’t possibly hear him, being underwater as he was, but still feeling compelled to observe whatever social niceties he could. Then he turned to regard the beautiful marble palace that served as Hathor’s home. “So,” he said to Wilfred. “Shall we?”

  Wilfred followed Barnabas across the hot sand to the broad marble steps that led up to the palace. Flanking the wide doors at the top of the stairs were the same two bovine guards who had laughed at them the first time the detectives visited. From the looks on their faces, Wilfred surmised that they were about to do so again.

  Barnabas either felt the same or else continued to hold a grudge against the two smiling guards because his tone was peremptory to the point of rudeness when he addressed them. “We are here,” he said. “Let us in.”

  One of the guards bowed his head (whether in deference or to hide his mirth Wilfred could not tell) whilst the other looked them up and down most offensively before smirking and casually flinging open the door and waving them in. “As you wish,” he said, sweeping his arm broadly to indicate that they might pass. His tone, whilst outwardly polite, managed to convey such a degree of derision that Barnabas’ nostrils flared with outrage.

  “What? Haven’t you ever seen two men riding on a crocodile before?” he demanded. “I fail to see what is so amusing about that!”

  “With all due respect,” said the guard in a voice that was utterly devoid of respect, “I’ve seen people riding crocodiles but not mice. You must admit it is a bit out of the ordinary.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Barnabas. Wilfred laid a restraining hand on his shoulder, but Barnabas would have none of it. “That’s nice, coming from a…a rotten piece of beef cheeks!” he said, making Wilfred cringe and glance anxiously inside the doors to be sure that Hathor hadn’t heard. “And besides,” continued Barnabas, his cheeks puffing in and out with outrage, “we earned these mouse heads in honorable battle. What have you ever done to earn acclaim? As far as I can see you just stand there all day, don’t you?”

  “Well,” huffed the guard, offended at the ‘beef cheeks’ comment. “I happen to be a member of Hathor’s Royal Guard, a job which requires far more bravery than merely being carried about everywhere by various gods. And as far as I heard, those mouse heads were given you as a curse by Apep, not as a reward for any valor.”

  “Why, what a dreadful flibbertigibbet he is!” cried Barnabas to Wilfred. He drew himself up to stare haughtily down his nose at the guard. “And yes, we get carried around quite a bit by gods, which means that they are our allies. So you’d best hope that we don’t call Sobek back here. He was quite hungry, if you catch my drift.”

  The guard’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to make a retort, but just then a low, silky voice emanated from the interior of the palace.

  “Why, is that Barnabas Tew and Wilfred Colby?” asked Hathor. “Why in heavens name are you standing around out there? Come in, please.” Her words were a polite invitation but there was no denying the command in her voice. Barnabas glanced at Wilfred meaningfully. Hathor was accustomed to getting her own way. All that was left for them to do was to get her to see that their plan was in her best interest as well.

  “Coming, my lady,” answered Barnabas. He swept past the guard, glaring triumphantly, whilst the guard, for his part, pretended not to notice him.

  Hathor, seated upon her chaise longue, beckoned them over to her once they had entered the palace. “So,” she said, once they had come closer. “To what do I owe the honour of a second visit from Anubis’ esteemed detective and his venerable assistant?”

  Barnabas and Wilfred bowed their heads in greeting and in acknowledgement of her gracious words. “My dear lady,” said Barnabas, “I am terribly sorry to be the bearer of news most dire. Indeed, the news I have come to tell you is a blow against all Egypt and an affront to womankind especially.”

  “What news is this?” asked Hathor. She sat up straight now, her interest piqued. “What news could be so terrible to warrant this mysteriousness? It must be troublesome indeed, for though your words are gallant, I can see the consternation in your eyes.”

  “It truly is news of the most troublesome kind,” said Barnabas.

  “Well?” said Hathor impatiently as it became apparent that Barnabas was no closer to expounding any further. “If you’ve come to tell me, then perhaps you should, well, tell me.” There was a slight edge of frustration to her voice now that made Wilfred nervous, but when he glanced at Barnabas his employer seemed completely unperturbed.

  “I shall, of course, tell you,” said Barnabas calmly, “but in good time. First, I must insist upon one thing.”

  “Which is?” asked Hathor, her temper visibly fraying. Her voice had dropped an entire octave, so that it sounded most dangerous to Wilfred.

  “That you promise not to become too terribly angry,” replied Barnabas. “We wouldn’t want to do anything rash or…ill-considered.” Wilfred looked once more to Barnabas, surprised. He had thought the entire point of their visit was to incite Hathor’s anger so that she would fly into a rage and go after Anti and Montu. But Barnabas, seeing Wilfred’s startled glance, merely winked slyly and so Wilfred had no choice but to trust that his employer knew what he was about.

  “Out with it!” demanded Hathor, visibly agitated now. “Or I will behave in a most ill-considered fashion—towards you.”

  “Very well,” said Barnabas deferentially. He took a deep breath as though to steel himself, although to Wilfred, who knew him so well, it seemed a bit theatrical as though Barnabas was pretending at something. Confused, Wilfred could only watch as the conversation unfolded.

  Barnabas sighed. “It grieves me to tell you that you have been betrayed in a most grievous fashion by your erstwhile friend, Montu. Indeed, he has played you quite falsely.”

  “How so?” asked Hathor. “You’d best have some details behind such an allegation or…”

  “Indeed we do,” interrupted Barnabas before she could complete her threat. “You see, we have seen Montu, along with his co-villain, Anti. Together they have taken Khepre.”

  “Oh,” said Hathor, deflating a bit. “Terrible, I’m sure, but it doesn’t really have much to do with me, so…” She reclined once more and looked as if she were about to dismiss them.

  “But,” proclaimed Barnabas loudly, “that is not all. Not only have they kidnapped Khepre, but they have also taken Ma’at, and are holding her under most egregious conditions.”

  “Ma’at?” asked Hathor, sitting back up again. Her turquoise jewelry jingled discordantly with the violence of her motion.“They’ve kidnapped Ma’at? Why would they do that?”

  “I cannot speak to the motivations of men such as that,” said Barnabas. “To hold a lady against her will and to keep her in such deplorable conditions… Why, it is unconscionable!”

  “In what conditions exactly?” asked Hathor.

  “Well,” said Barnabas slowly as though he were reluctant to impart such repugnant news. “She is being held at Anti’s house, which is a most dismal shack. And the place is rank with dung beetle balls.”

  “Ma’at, the goddess of justice, being held in a shack filled with dung beetle balls?” yelped Hathor loudly, outraged. “And by two lesser gods at that!”

  “It would seem that neither of them have any respect for women whatsoever,” added Barnabas, “to treat her so. And I know it must pain you to think that Montu attended you here in your court, and behaved so obsequiously towards you, whilst all the while he was tormenting a fellow goddess. The whole matter is so horribly insulting. I am truly sorry you have been so deceived.”

  Of course, Ma’at hadn’t been kidnapped yet whilst Montu was still at Hathor’s court, but Hathor was by n
ow far too worked up to question the timeline of events, which suited Barnabas’ purpose just fine.

  “The chauvinistic scoundrel!” cried Hathor. “To think that his deference to me was merely facetious, and all the while he has been holding a goddess against her will!”

  “It is most unforgivable,” said Barnabas. “But still, you mustn’t get too upset. The last thing we want is for anyone to behave rashly.”

  “Don’t tell me how to behave!” boomed Hathor. She leapt to her feet. “A sister goddess is in trouble, and I will go to her aid. Montu and Anti will rue the day they disrespected a goddess!”

  In her anger she charged across the floor and began to carom around the room, calling out instructions to her servants (to ready her chariot; fetch her spear; remember to water the plants whilst she was away). Indeed, her movements were so quick, her energy so explosive, that Barnabas and Wilfred merely stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.

  “Why did you tell her not to behave rashly?” whispered Wilfred. “I thought the whole point was to incite her to anger.”

  “Exactly,” said Barnabas, smiling shrewdly. “And do you see how angry she is?”

  Wilfred looked just in time to see Hathor knock over a servant who wasn’t quick enough to get out of her way and then simply trample the fellow as he lay sprawled on the ground, making him grunt with a great “oof!”

  “Yes, she does seem extraordinarily angry,” he agreed.

  “Which she may not have done had it seemed as though I meant to enrage her.”

  “Ah,” said Wilfred, understanding. “So by bidding her remain calm, you merely enflamed her even more?”

  “Exactly!” repeated Barnabas.

  At that moment Hathor, apparently finished with her preparations, turned back to them and barked, “Well? Are you coming?” Then she turned and swept out of the palace. Barnabas and Wilfred shared an excited look.

  “And so it begins,” said Barnabas. “The completion of our mission is nigh!” So saying, he trotted off to follow Hathor with Wilfred close behind him. They clambered up into her chariot just as she snapped the reins. The chariot lurched into motion and soon they were flying at breakneck speed across the desert, on their way to Anti’s house to rescue Khepre and Ma’at.