Barnabas Tew and The Case Of The Missing Scarab

by Columbkill Noonan

  The wind whipped at Barnabas’ and Wilfred’s robes, so that the detectives clutched at them (with varying degrees of success) to keep them from billowing about their necks. The chariot lurched most alarmingly over bumps and dips in the sand, and at times it seemed as though they must overturn altogether. Still, the thrill of the chase was upon them (and besides, Hathor’s somewhat maniacal outrage was strangely contagious) and so they found themselves grinning from ear to ear with excitement.

  Soon enough, the chariot was bouncing up the rutted track that led to Anti’s shack. The path ended a hundred yards or so from the ramshackle structure. They all alighted, and Barnabas and Wilfred dropped low in order to hide between two giant prickly weeds.

  “If we stay low and remain quiet,” whispered Barnabas, “we can crawl through the lawn and approach the house unseen. Stealth is of the utmost consequence.”

  “Agreed,” said Wilfred.

  “MONTU! ANTI!” boomed Hathor, stomping loudly through the tall weeds and grass. “GET OUT HERE NOW!”

  Barnabas and Wilfred looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “I don’t think she places the same importance upon stealth that we do,” supplied Wilfred unhelpfully.

  Barnabas sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to follow her,” he said, rising from his crouch. As soon as he was upright, however, he was bowled over by a great heavy fluff of dirty brown feathers.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Ooof!” said Barnabas as the blow knocked the wind from him and sent him tumbling heels over head. Wilfred, who had not yet stood up all the way, was merely pushed into taking an impromptu seat.

  Wilfred’s behind, however, had been unfortunately positioned directly above one of the prickly weeds so that he was jabbed most painfully by the sharp spikes and thorns as he fell. “Aaack!” he yelped, rolling onto his side and plucking at the thorns that dotted the back of his robe.

  The brown poof of feathers (which, of course, was Anti) was upended by the collision with Barnabas and skidded face-first into the ground. Slowly and with a great deal of complaining and groaning, Anti pulled himself to his feet. Seeing the two detectives lying sprawled in front of him, his eyes narrowed.

  “Ugh!” he said. “You two again. Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?”

  “What’s the rush?” asked Barnabas innocently, hoping that Hathor would notice that one of her two birds had flown. He feared, though, that she was too intently focused on Montu (for whom her animus was somewhat personal) to pay much heed to Anti’s whereabouts.

  “Oh, nothing really,” said Anti with faux casualness. “I just have an appointment, is all.” He shook out his wings and plucked at his flight feathers, which had become quite bent in his fall.

  “Here, let me help you,” said Barnabas. Wilfred looked on with astonishment as his employer approached Anti and appeared to begin to help the villain smooth out his feathers.

  “Thank you,” said Anti. “Very helpful of you.”

  Barnabas, however, had no intention of being helpful. Indeed, his intention was entirely the opposite. Knowing that he and Wilfred could not apprehend the large falcon on their own, he had decided that the best he could do was delay Anti’s flight for as long as possible and hope Hathor would come back in time. Wilfred quickly saw what Barnabas was about and rose to help him.

  “Too kind, too kind,” said Anti. “Wait, no, you’re doing it all wrong. They’re bent worse than before.” He looked at the two detectives as they fussed at his wing feathers, spoiling them entirely (Barnabas had even managed to tie a few of them into a terrible knot). Further, he saw Hathor’s chariot nearby and at last put two and two together. “Oh!” he cried angrily. “You’re with her!”

  He wrenched his wings away from Barnabas and Wilfred and tried to flee once more. He couldn’t fly with his wing feathers tied up in knots, however, and so he was limited to a ridiculous hopping-flapping-run across the lawn.

  Reduced though their suspect’s speed might be, still Barnabas and Wilfred knew that they couldn’t arrest him themselves. It was with great relief, therefore, that they heard Hathor’s footsteps coming rapidly from the direction of the house.

  The cow goddess easily overtook Anti and snatched him up by the neck. He kicked his skinny legs futilely for a few moments. Then, seeing that his struggles were useless, he gave up and just hung there looking miserable.

  “Aha!” cried Barnabas, peeping out from behind Hathor. He pointed his finger at Anti, then waved it dramatically in the air. “J’accuse!” he yelled with great satisfaction. “Arrest that man, uh, bird… Well, bird-person-man, I suppose…”

  Hathor, Anti, and Wilfred all sighed.

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to say that,” muttered Barnabas, too pleased with himself to be properly embarrassed.

  “And you’ve earned the right to,” said Wilfred supportively.

  “Seriously?” said Anti, exasperated. “This is what caught me out?” He flapped a wing to indicate Barnabas and Wilfred.

  “Indeed!” said Barnabas. “You sorely underestimated us, and now your diabolical plot has come to naught!”

  “It was not diabolical,” protested Anti.

  “Was so,” said Barnabas childishly.

  “The whole affair was simply to right a terrible wrong that has been done to me.”

  “Think of all the trouble you caused!” chided Barnabas. “The drought! The flooding! So many have perished because of you. And you say that your motives were honorable? I call foul play, sir!”

  “You don’t understand!” said Anti.

  “So explain yourself then,” suggested Barnabas.

  “I used to be the greatest god of all. Me and Montu together were the bee’s knees, if you will. Now I’ve been demoted to just a ridiculous ferryman.”

  “But why kidnap Khepre?” asked Barnabas. “Was it revenge because he was part of the council that deposed you?” He thought back on the case and remembered that, early on, Bes had shown them a very large dismembered insect leg. A leg that might, in all probability, belong to Khepre. “And is Khepre alive?” he asked. “Is he…intact?”

  Anti flushed and kicked his feet. His head turned this way and that as he refused to make eye contact with Barnabas.

  “Did you or did you not chop up Khepre?” demanded Barnabas. “Speak!”

  “Well, just a little,” mumbled Anti, looking down.

  “What?” said Barnabas. “One is either chopped up all the way or not at all. I can’t see how one could be chopped up a little.” He looked to Wilfred, who shook his head.

  “It was just his legs,” said Anti.

  “But that is terrible!” cried Barnabas. “Oh, the cruelty! You are more of a villain than I thought!”

  “No, no, you don’t understand,” said Anti. “Dung beetle legs grow back, you see. Khepre is just fine, I can assure you.” He turned his head away and whispered, “Now, anyway.”

  “Oh,” said Barnabas (he hadn’t heard the last part). “That’s better, I suppose. But why chop him up at all? To what end?”

  Anti heaved a great exhale. He looked about once more as though looking for help, then gave one last half-hearted struggle. Seeing that escape was all but impossible, he gave another big sigh and began his full confession.

  “I was the greatest god in all the underworld, you see,” he began.

  “We know. You’ve already said that,” pointed out Barnabas.

  “Anyway,” said Anti loudly, annoyed at being interrupted, “as I’ve said, I was the greatest. Then came the council that deposed me, and they put the usurpers, Osiris and Anubis, in my place. Yes, Khepre was part of the council, but it was Set who decided to lop off my toes for punishment. He is the one who likes to chop people up around here, you know.”

  “Ah,” said Wilfred. “Like he did to Osiris when he scattered him all around the desert.”

  “Precisely,” said Anti. “So my plan was two-fold. First, I’d kidnap Khepre, knowing th
at Anubis must needs send someone after him. Since Anubis doesn’t do much for himself, it was easy to surmise that he would send Ma’at, her being the goddess of justice and what not. Then I could kidnap her, too.”

  “But why?” interrupted Barnabas.

  “I’m getting to that, if you’d just stop interrupting,” snapped Anti. Barnabas bowed his head in apology, and Anti continued. “So, without Ma’at’s feather to judge the hearts of the dead, Anubis would find himself in a tight spot. Then I could offer my own feather up as a replacement, which would make me the god of justice and what not, which would be a nice step up from ferryman. Then I could promote Montu as sort of my assistant. Being a former god of war, he would make a nice enforcer of my judgments, I thought. And he was content with that. Of course, things got a bit more complicated when you two showed up. I didn’t want you to show up to rescue Khepre rather than Ma’at, and so I had to throw you off somehow. That’s why I scattered Khepre’s legs around the desert. Since Set is notorious for doing things like that, I figured that finding Khepre’s legs would put you on his trail instead of mine. Perhaps you might build a strong enough case against Set based on Khepre’s legs and his own history of chopping people up, and therefore get him punished just as he had done to me before.”

  “So you used us to take out your enemy for you?” said Barnabas.

  “Exactly,” said Anti.

  “But,” persisted Barnabas, “if we were to come up against Set, wouldn’t the odds be more in his favor than in ours?”

  “Well, maybe. I mean, I suppose, if you want to look at it like that…” said Anti.

  “So we were cannon fodder for you against Set?” demanded Barnabas, quite upset at the personal betrayal. He had, after all, considered Anti to be something of a friend at first.

  “I really was rooting for you,” said Anti. “And really it was Montu who came up with that part of the plan.”

  “Hmmph,” said Barnabas, frowning.

  “If you’re all done yammering,” said Hathor, “I’d like to finish rescuing our victims. If you don’t mind,” she added pointedly. “And besides, I have Montu tied up in the kitchen and I need to finish my, um, interrogation.”

  “Oh,” said Barnabas, wondering what form, exactly, an interrogation by the angry Hathor might take. “Of course.”

  “I’ll leave you two to guard Anti whilst I deal with Montu and set Khepre and Ma’at free,” she said.

  “But how will we hold him?” asked Barnabas, alarmed.

  “I’ll tie him to the chariot and you just make sure he doesn’t escape,” said Hathor.

  “Well, all right,” said Barnabas, doubting this was going to work out at all well.

  “He really must not escape,” said Hathor condescendingly as she stared pointedly into Barnabas’ eyes. “It is extremely important. Are you absolutely certain you can manage it? Or must I somehow not only apprehend but also guard not one but two prisoners whilst somehow managing to free the two victims, and do so all at once?”

  “Of course not,” said Barnabas.

  “Of course not meaning you cannot manage to guard Anti, or of course not I don’t have to do all this by myself?” Her voice was calm but the expression on her face was utterly terrifying. Her rage, though aimed for the present at Anti and Montu, seemed as though it could spill over quickly onto anything or anyone who happened to annoy her.

  Barnabas found himself dreadfully flustered under the weight of her growing disapprobation. “Your command is our wish,” he said.

  “What?” said Hathor, scowling. “Do you mean my wish is your command?”

  “Yes, as I said,” said Barnabas.

  “We will guard Anti most closely,” added Wilfred, stepping in.

  Hathor gave them both a searching glance before shaking her head in exasperation. “Very well then,” she said. “I’ll go get Khepre and Ma’at, and deal with Montu besides. Just don’t, well… Don’t do anything stupid.”

  So saying, she pulled a rope out of the back of the chariot and tied one end to the axle and wrapped the other around Anti several times until the falcon could scarcely wiggle his wings. Without another word she stomped off towards Anti’s house, leaving Barnabas and Wilfred alone with Anti.

  “It was Montu’s idea, really,” said Anti.

  “What was?” asked Barnabas.

  “I think it might be better if we don’t converse with him,” whispered Wilfred, fearing some unforeseen subterfuge on Anti’s part.

  “That we pit you against Set,” said Anti. “I wanted no parts of it, but Montu insisted it was the only thing to do.”

  “You could have said no,” said Barnabas petulantly. “I thought you were the leader of this affair, not Montu.”

  “Really, it’s probably better not to speak,” said Wilfred.

  “Ha!” said Anti. “It is not easy to ignore Montu. He is very aggressive, you see, and a little scary.”

  “He’s trying to manipulate your feelings,” warned Wilfred.

  “So you’re saying that Montu is the one to blame for everything, and not you?” asked Barnabas.

  Anti sighed and hung his head. Great tears of remorse welled in his dark eyes (crocodile tears, thought Wilfred) and he slumped his shoulders so that his head hung down. In truth, he made for a very contrite and most piteous sight.

  “Oh no,” Anti said sadly. “I’ll take my responsibility. I should have known better than to work with someone like Montu. I should have known he would make me do things that were wrong. But I am truly sorry for what I’ve done. I see now the error of my ways.”

  “Well,” said Barnabas. “I am glad to hear you say that.”

  “He’s trying to manipulate your feelings,” said Wilfred. “I don’t believe a word of this.”

  “I really was hoping you’d come out on top. I even cheered when you bested Apep. You can ask anyone.”

  “Yes, well, most wouldn’t have survived such an encounter,” said Barnabas with false modesty.

  “Probably no one but yourselves!” said Anti. “Such bravery! I knew then that you stood a better than fair chance to survive this place.”

  “Of course,” said Barnabas. “I can see how you would think so.”

  “Barnabas, really,” said Wilfred. “I’m quite certain that I don’t trust him…”

  Anti wriggled uncomfortably within the rope cocoon that Hathor had constructed around him. “My wings are falling asleep,” he said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Barnabas politely.

  “And I really was on your side the whole time,” continued Anti. He shifted himself about again. “Hey, do you think you might loosen the rope just a bit? It really does hurt.” His tone had become wheedling, making Wilfred’s skin crawl with disgust at the obviousness of his ploy.

  “Well…,” began Barnabas, looking searchingly at Anti.

  Wilfred, afraid that Barnabas might actually be falling prey to Anti’s treachery, blinked rapidly in alarm. “Hathor said…” he began.

  “I won’t do anything,” said Anti. “I’m not a monster, you know.”

  Barnabas took a couple of steps forward so that he stood nearly snout-to-beak with Anti.

  “Barnabas, no!” cried Wilfred.

  For a moment it seemed as though Barnabas would loosen Anti’s bonds. The falcon’s eyes sparkled with excitement, all trace of his feigned remorse gone as he readied himself to take advantage of the opportunity to gain his freedom. Barnabas raised his hand and extended it towards Anti.

  Wilfred caught his breath, already thinking of how they might escape Hathor’s ire when she returned to find her prisoner gone. But Barnabas reached his arm high about his head and brought it down sharply to deliver a mighty clout to the top of Anti’s head.

  “Not a monster?” said he. “Who but a monster would deliver up two innocent detectives, who have nothing to do with what happened to you, to certain doom? Set is the god of chaos, for heaven’s sake, and we mere British citizens! And all the while you purporte
d to be our friend.” Barnabas shook his head in disgust.

  “I really was your friend,” protested Anti. “It’s just…”

  “Just that your own interests were of more importance to you than the fate of Wilfred and myself?” supplied Barnabas. “Yes, you are a villain, a rapscallion, a devil of the very worst kind.”

  “No, really…” began Anti.

  “Yes, really,” said Barnabas, sneering. “And the way you betray your accomplice and try to shift all the blame to him! What happened to ‘honor among thieves’? I say, sir, that of honor, you have none. So this conversation is at an end, I say, and good day.”

  With that, Barnabas turned his back upon Anti and held his arms akimbo across his chest.

  “But that isn’t fair!” whined Anti. “I’m the victim here! I’m the one whose toes got lopped off and whose power was stripped. It is Anubis who is the villain, not me!”

  “I said good day,” snipped Barnabas peremptorily, then pressed his lips firmly shut.

  “But…,” said Anti, before Wilfred interrupted him.

  “No use talking now,” said Wilfred smugly. “Once he’s said good day he’ll never say another word to you.”

  Barnabas looked up at the sky and began to hum “Come into the Garden, Maud.”

  “Come now, it really wasn’t…,” tried Anti again, but Barnabas merely hummed louder until the falcon gave up at last and slumped against the chariot, defeated.

  Just then Hathor emerged from the shack leading Ma’at and a very large dung beetle with exceedingly short and shiny legs that Wilfred supposed must be Khepre. Not wanting to be rude, he tried not to stare at the legs, which were out of proportion to the massive size of the rest of the god’s body. It would, he supposed, take a while for the legs to grow back properly.

  Hathor took in the scene; with Anti hunched over and grumbling in his bonds whilst Barnabas inexplicably belted out a jaunty tune it was a strange sight indeed. She shook her head and sighed.