The Mummy Smugglers of Crumblin Castle

by Pamela Rushby

  “I do not. But perhaps the fellahin do.”

  “I think they do see these kings and queens as their own,” said Professor Helman. “They feel they belong here.”

  Great-aunt Iphigenia put her hand to her face and swayed a little on her feet. Hattie caught her arm. “Do you feel faint?” she asked in alarm.

  “No, no, but – I have never thought of it in this way,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia softly. “Sisyphus, perhaps – perhaps our plan is not quite the right thing . . .”

  The Ravens swung around in alarm. Brushing Hattie aside, they took Great-aunt Iphigenia’s arms and assisted her to their boat. They sat close to her, talking, talking, all the way back. As they reached the east bank, Great-aunt Iphigenia nodded her head. “Yes, yes, of course. I am persuaded you are right,” she said.

  Great-aunt Iphigenia was very quiet that evening. They were all tired after the long day, and were glad to reach the Hetepheres and be served cold drinks and an appetising dinner. After dinner they sat out on the deck, enjoying the cool breeze and the wavering lights of the dahabiyas reflected in the water.

  They all slept late the next morning, and one by one came to the saloon for a late breakfast. Great-uncle Sisyphus was the only one at the table when Hattie entered the saloon. “Good morning!” he greeted her cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Hattie said. “Have you been up for long?”

  “I’ve been out for a brief walk already. I encountered Gustav Helman, and thanked him again for such an interesting day yesterday.” He paused. “He asked me something that, I have to say, interested me greatly.”

  “What was that?” Hattie poured tea for herself, and refilled Great-uncle Sisyphus’ cup.

  “He asked if I might be interested in working on translating the inscriptions on the mummy cases. In Cairo.”

  “Really? That would be very interesting, wouldn’t it? But –” Hattie stopped. “Wouldn’t that take a very long time?”

  “Quite possibly years.”

  “Then – does that mean you would stay in Cairo? All by yourself?” Hattie was dismayed. Crumblin Castle would not be the same without Great-uncle Sisyphus. Not only that, but she quickly had a far more selfish thought. Who, then, would be responsible for her education? Would she be sent away to school again? Her stomach felt as if a cold stone had fallen into it.

  “It is only a thought,” Great-uncle Sisyphus was saying. “It is something I must talk over with Iphigenia. And I would not think of staying alone. Oh no, you and Iphigenia would stay as well.”

  Footsteps sounded on the deck outside. The footsteps grew louder and the Ravens entered the saloon. One look at their faces and Hattie knew that they had heard everything. And they were not happy.

  “That is a great honour, Sir Sisyphus,” said Edgar Raven tightly. “Congratulations.”

  “Are you quite seriously considering staying in Cairo?” asked Edwina Raven.

  Great-uncle Sisyphus was disconcerted. “Ah, you heard,” he said. “I had not meant – well, never mind. No, it is only a thought. Nothing is decided.”

  Edwina Raven lifted the lids of the serving dishes on the table. Nothing seemed to tempt her. She covered the dishes again. “You mean to consult Miss Lambton, then, before deciding? Still, she is such a generous person. Such a caring sister. I’m sure the fact that she will have to give up her career will not influence her for a moment.”

  “Give up her career?” Great-uncle Sisyphus was startled. “Oh. I had not thought of that. Would she have to do so?”

  “If she is in Cairo,” observed Edgar Raven, appearing mildly surprised, “she could hardly conduct unwrappings in London.”

  “No, no, I daresay she could not.” Great-uncle Sisyphus frowned.

  Hattie thought it was more than time to speak up. “Perhaps she could also do them in Cairo?” Not that she wanted Great-aunt Iphigenia to perform more unwrappings anywhere.

  The Ravens swiftly turned their dark faces towards her. “There are many mummies in Cairo. The level of interest would most certainly be low.”

  Hattie subsided. She needed to think about this. It would be wonderful to stay in Cairo, especially if Great-aunt Iphigenia was not conducting unwrappings. Hattie’s worries about lost souls wandering in darkness would be over, quite over. But, she realised, there was no way the Ravens intended this to happen, if they could possibly prevent it. Their positions would be gone, their plans for an early and comfortable retirement would come to nothing. Just a few years more. Free as birds, Hattie remembered them saying. No, it would not be in the Ravens’ interests at all.

  Great-uncle Sisyphus rose to his feet. “I must think more about this. About how it would affect everyone, and especially dear Iphigenia’s career. I should consult her.”

  “You know what her reaction will be,” Edwina Raven reminded him.

  “Yes, yes . . .”

  “If you are unsure about staying, perhaps it would be best, kindest, not to consult her at all,” Edgar Raven suggested.

  Great-uncle Sisyphus inclined his head. “Perhaps you are right. I will think on it. Until I have decided, I will say nothing to Iphigenia. Thank you for your advice. It is, as always, invaluable.” He left the saloon, his stick tapping on the deck.

  Hattie rose also, even though she had not yet eaten. She did not want to stay in company with the Ravens, especially given the mood they were in. She went out onto the deck and leaned on the railing, looking out over the river. A dahabiya was passing. Clearly, the occupants had been hunting, successfully. The body of a crocodile swung from the mast.

  The saloon door opened, and the Ravens were beside her. Hattie groaned inwardly. What did they want now?

  The Ravens, it was soon apparent, wanted quite a lot. They wanted her to use her influence to persuade her great-uncle and great-aunt to continue with their scheme of acquiring mummies, and returning to England.

  “Influence?” Hattie said, surprised. “I don’t have any influence!”

  “Oh, I think you do,” said Edgar Raven. “More than you know.”

  “You have already, um, unsettled your great-aunt to the point where she is doubting the integrity of removing mummies from Egypt,” said Edwina Raven.

  “You are supporting your great-uncle’s thoughts of remaining in Cairo,” said Edgar Raven.

  “Think of what will happen. Your great-aunt’s very successful career will be over. Crumblin Castle will fall into disrepair.” Edwina Raven paused. “You can prevent that happening, Hatshepsut. Just by ceasing to disturb your great-aunt. By ceasing to encourage your great-uncle to remain in Cairo.”

  “In fact,” Edgar Raven went on, “you don’t need to do anything. Anything at all.”

  “You just,” Edwina Raven hissed, “need to keep your mouth shut.”

  Hattie was affronted. She put her chin up. No one told a Lambton what to do!

  “Or?” she said.

  The Ravens gazed pensively across the river.

  “Well,” said Edgar Raven.

  “Well,” said Edwina Raven.

  They each took one of Hattie’s very unwilling arms, tucked it into theirs, and began to pace the deck with her.

  “It would be so easy for someone to just – disappear – in Egypt,” said Edwina Raven dreamily.

  Hattie stopped dead. That sounded suspiciously like a threat. Veiled, but a threat nevertheless. “You don’t scare me!” she said.

  The Ravens appeared shocked. “Scare you? My dear Hatshepsut, what an idea! No one is trying to scare you. No, we are merely pointing out that people do disappear in Egypt.”

  “Your own parents, for instance,” said Edgar Raven.

  “If young, strong people can disappear, consider how easy it would be for an elderly man – already unsteady on his feet – to, perhaps, stumble.”

  “Fall overboard.”

  “Into a river teeming with crocodiles.”

  “A terrible thought.”

  “Indeed.”

&nbs
p; There was a long silence.

  The Ravens looked down at Hattie. Hattie looked up at them. They were serious, she knew. Deadly serious. She had no difficulty in believing that if the Ravens felt it was necessary to push a Lambton into the Nile, and especially the Lambton who, they felt, had wronged their father, they would have no hesitation in doing so. And they would probably enjoy it immensely.

  Hattie swallowed. “I . . . see,” she said.

  The Ravens smiled down at her. “We knew you would be reasonable,” they said. “We look forward to continuing our journey.”

  “Accomplishing our goal.”

  “Returning to England.”

  They let Hattie’s arms go, and walked away.

  Hattie sat down suddenly on the deck. The breeze, which before had felt pleasantly cool, now made her shiver. She could do nothing, nothing to stop the Ravens. Not at the moment, at least.

  But one day, she thought. One day . . .

  Hattie wondered whether to tell Amal about the threats the Ravens had made. In the end, she did. But there was nothing they could do, the girls agreed, except keep very, very close to Great-uncle Sisyphus.

  At lunch that day, Great-uncle Sisyphus announced that he intended to pay a farewell visit to Professor Helman in the afternoon. Great-aunt Iphigenia regretted she could not accompany him. She had already arranged to have tea with other friends.

  “Would you care to accompany me, Hattie? Amal?” Great-uncle Sisyphus offered. “You seemed to get on well with Gustav, Hattie.”

  Hattie felt the Ravens’ hard, dark gaze on her. She had already spent the morning as close to Great-uncle Sisyphus’ side as she could. She intended to keep on doing so.

  “Yes, thank you, that would be delightful,” she said quickly.

  They crossed the promenade to the Winter Palace Hotel. Amal immediately asked permission to visit the bookshop again, and disappeared in its direction. On the terrace, Great-uncle Sisyphus paused. “I should tell you, Hattie, that I have decided not to accept Gustav’s very flattering invitation to remain in Cairo and work on the translations of the hieroglyphs,” he said.

  “Oh?” said Hattie. He did not appear to be happy about it.

  “It is quite disappointing,” acknowledged Great-uncle Sisyphus. “It would have been fascinating work.”

  “Did you speak to Great-aunt Iphigenia about it?” asked Hattie.

  “No, no. I did not. I felt I could not put her in an awkward position. As Edgar and Edwina so truly pointed out, dear Iphigenia would have agreed to staying at once. At the expense of her own career.” Great-uncle Sisyphus looked wistful. “But it is of no great moment. I will, no doubt, see the translations in time. There will be others eager to work on them.”

  “Oh,” said Hattie again. “Are you going to tell Professor Helman now?”

  “Yes. And I know I can depend on you, Hattie, not to mention this to Iphigenia at all. I do not want her upset. Can you understand that, my dear?”

  “Of course,” Hattie said. “I’ll say nothing.”

  There seemed to be a great many people wanting her to say nothing all of a sudden, Hattie thought. She did not know quite how to feel about Great-uncle Sisyphus’ disclosure. On the one hand, now that they were to continue down the Nile and then return to England, the Ravens’ threat to Great-uncle Sisyphus would be significantly diminished. On the other, Great-aunt Iphigenia would be continuing with her mummy unwrapping events. And that made Hattie very uncomfortable indeed.

  She trailed through the lobby of the hotel in Great-uncle Sisyphus’ wake, a frown on her face. Her thoughts flew through her mind like the balls she had seen a juggler keeping in the air, just the other day, in a bazaar. Round and round and round, until they turned into an incomprehensible blur, just as the juggler’s balls had done.

  They found Professor Helman on the terrace overlooking the garden.

  “I’m afraid we’ve come to say goodbye,” Great-uncle Sisyphus greeted him. “We leave Luxor tomorrow, on our way to Aswan.”

  “It has been a great pleasure to see you, and Iphigenia, again. And to meet you, too, Hattie,” Professor Helman said. “Shall we meet again in Cairo? Have you considered my offer?”

  “Ah. I need to talk to you about that,” Great-uncle Sisyphus said. “But here is the tea arriving.”

  They were all silent as a waiter brought a table, spread a cloth, and placed cups, saucers, a teapot and cake on it. Professor Helman asked Hattie if she would be kind enough to pour. As she busied herself with tea, Great-uncle Sisyphus regretfully refused Professor Helman’s offer. “I feel I cannot stand in the way of Iphigenia’s career in London,” he said. “And she would, I am sure, insist on staying in Cairo with me. So I would prefer your kind offer not be made known to her.”

  “I see,” said Professor Helman. “I can’t deny that is most disappointing. Let me say, though, that the offer remains open. If your circumstances should change.”

  The subject was dropped, and Great-uncle Sisyphus and Professor Helman took the tea cups Hattie handed them, and talked of other things.

  Suddenly, Great-uncle Sisyphus saw someone waving to him across the terrace. “Why, it’s old Barty!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea he was in Luxor! Would you excuse me, just for a moment, while I say hello?”

  “But of course,” Professor Helman nodded.

  As Great-uncle Sisyphus hurried across the terrace, Professor Helman turned to Hattie. “You are very quiet today, Hattie,” he observed.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Hattie. She searched for a topic of conversation. She had been thinking so hard about returning to Crumblin Castle, and the mummy unwrapping parties, that her mind seemed to be quite empty of light conversation.

  Professor Helman waited for a moment. Hattie still said nothing. “And you appear worried,” he said.

  “Oh. Do I? I – I really have nothing to worry about,” stumbled Hattie.

  “Hmm,” said Professor Helman. “I’m very pleased to hear it.” It was clear he did not believe her for a moment.

  There was a pause.

  “And are you looking forward to the rest of your journey? The Cataract, Edfu, Kom Ombo, Aswan? There are many interesting things to see beyond Aswan. Many, um, how should I put this – many interesting people to meet.”

  Hattie looked up quickly. The words were innocent, but the manner in which Professor Helman had said them was not. It sounded as if he knew something, suspected something, about the people Great-uncle Sisyphus and Great-aunt Iphigenia expected to meet beyond Aswan. And for what purpose.

  “I’m sure there are,” Hattie faltered. “Things to see, I mean. Interesting people.”

  Professor Helman leaned forward and searched for something in his coat pocket. He drew out a small piece of printed card and handed it to Hattie. “Hattie,” he said, “this is my address in London. The museum I work for. We are friends, are we not? If you ever need a friend, if you ever need help, you will find me there. I will be back in London before you reach Cairo again. Do you understand?”

  Hattie took the card. “If I need a friend?” she said. Her heart lifted a little. A friend.

  “Yes.” Professor Helman put his hand out and Hattie put hers into it. She felt suddenly happier. Not quite as helpless, as alone, as she had been feeling.

  The Hetepheres pulled out of Luxor the next morning and continued upriver. Omar Shaydi was optimistic about their progress. “Rais Abdallah says the weather is good. Ten days, perhaps, to reach the First Cataract. Once past that, we have arrived at the village of my family. But,” he paused, “we want no one to become suspicious. So we must, of course, stop to visit the usual sites along the way.”

  The usual sites included the great temple of Khnum, the ram-headed god of earth and water who created humankind on his potter’s wheel, at Esna. A temple almost underground, in a pit, in the middle of the town, which had grown up and over it over the long years.

  And at Kom Ombo, the temple of the crocodile-headed god Sobek, where once
priests had draped live crocodiles, kept in a sacred lake, with precious jewels.

  A few days passed. The river changed. Large granite rocks began to appear in the stream. Islands covered in green vegetation forced the river to flow around them. The current ran faster as it made its way around the obstacles.

  “We are nearing the First Cataract,” said Omar Shaydi. “Past Aswan and we will be there.”

  Aswan was a pretty town, set among great granite boulders and islands lush with palms and flowers. The sightseeing was hurried, however. Rais Abdallah was anxious to push on. “The Cataract,” he murmured. “It may be there are other boats waiting to go up, or down. It may be there are days of bad omens. The Sheikh of the Cataract must decide if the day of our passage is auspicious.”

  “There’s a Sheikh who controls the Cataract?” Edgar Raven asked.

  “Yes. And we will need his men to guide us through,” Rais Abdallah replied. “It is a dangerous passage.”

  Hattie could see that this was probably true. The river was running much faster now. It was also wider, much wider, spreading itself out until it could almost be considered a small lake, dotted with islands and rocks.

  The Sheikh of the Cataract, Rais Abdallah told them, would be paying the Hetepheres a visit to negotiate payment for guiding them through the Cataract, and to decide on the day they were to attempt it. Rais Abdallah looked anxiously at the sky. “It is to be hoped the wind stays low,” he said. “The Sheikh will not agree to guide us through on windy days. The danger . . .” He left the thought unsaid.

  The Sheikh duly arrived, paddled in a small boat, low in the water, by six of his men.

  “They are Nubians,” Rais Abdallah said. “Once past the Cataract, we will be in Nubia.”

  The Sheikh and his men did appear different from the Egyptians Hattie was accustomed to seeing. These men were tall, thin, their skins a black so deep they appeared to shine. And they were strong. They swarmed aboard the Hetepheres and easily lifted the Sheikh, much older and thinner, aboard between them.