There's A Pharaoh In Our Bath!

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘Maybe he’s from the hospital,’ suggested Mr Lightspeed. ‘That would explain all the bandages. Ben – I think Carrie has stopped breathing. Could you stop sitting on her head?’

  But the all-out battle raging between the two children might well have continued for several more minutes, possibly even years, if Sennapod had not chosen that moment to wake.

  The Pharaoh sat bolt upright, his haunting eyes fixing on all four of them at once with a commanding glare. Ben was almost certain he could see little red dots shooting out of Sennapod’s eyes which seemed to burn into his body, but it might just have been his imagination. The Pharaoh lifted a bony, half-bandaged arm and pointed at the Lightspeed family.

  ‘Worms!’ he roared, by way of saying hello. ‘Do you dare raise your voices in front of the Pharaoh! Do you dare wage your puny wars before me!’ Sennapod struggled to his feet. ‘I am He Whose Name Shall Rumble Down The Ages. You are mere maggots and slugs, to be squeezed between my fingers – like so! I have been dead over four thousand years – bring me food at once!’ The effort of this speech left Sennapod very weak and he sank back into the armchair with another loud squelch.

  Mrs Lightspeed vanished into the little kitchen and began to make a pile of cheese sandwiches. It was not that she was scared of Sennapod, but she simply could not bear to think of anyone who hadn’t eaten for that long. Poor man – didn’t he have anyone to look after him? Mr Lightspeed looked as if he might ask something, but then he hurried after his wife and nervously began buttering bread for her. That left Ben and Carrie alone with the mummy.

  ‘Are you really a Pharaoh?’ asked Ben, much to Sennapod’s astonishment.

  ‘Are you speaking to me?’ he demanded with scandalized disgust. ‘Worms must be silent, and only speak when spoken to.’

  Ben frowned. ‘Could you stop calling me a worm, please? Mum says it’s rude to call people names – unless it’s your sister, of course. You can call her anything you like.’

  Carrie scowled and turned to Sennapod. ‘If you’ve been dead over four thousand years,’ she said, ‘how come you’re alive now?’

  ‘A miserable maggot must have read The Curse of Anubis,’ sneered Sennapod.

  Carrie was bewildered. ‘A nudist?’ she asked, wondering what sort of curses nudists might make.

  Ben sighed heavily. ‘He didn’t say a nudist, Carrie. He said Anubis, the Ancient Egyptian God of the Dead. Don’t you know anything?’ He peered at the Pharaoh in the armchair. Something about Sennapod’s appearance made Ben wonder. Perhaps he really was an Ancient Egyptian. That would be incredible!

  ‘I hope you like cheese,’ said Mr Lightspeed, coming back from the kitchen with a large plate of sandwiches. ‘Very good for your energy levels. Now, what’s this about a nudist? You’re not going to take any more bandages off, surely?’

  Ben could see that Sennapod was totally bewildered by both Carrie and his father. He tried to explain yet again, while the Pharaoh eagerly crammed his grey mouth with the sandwiches. ‘Anubis, Dad. He had tall pointy ears and a long pointy nose, very similar to Carrie’s.’

  ‘Did he really?’ said Carrie icily. ‘Ha, ha, ha.’

  ‘No, not really. Actually yours is much longer.’

  ‘Oh – double ha ha,’ Carrie growled.

  ‘How do you know all this, Ben?’ asked Mrs Lightspeed.

  ‘Well, you only have to look at her,’ said Ben.

  ‘No! About Anubis.’

  ‘We’re doing the Ancient Egyptians at school,’ he answered.

  Mr Lightspeed’s face puckered into a frown, and he eyed Sennapod warily. ‘Are you trying to tell me that this person here is a dead Ancient Egyptian?’

  Ben burst out laughing. ‘Don’t be daft, Dad. He wouldn’t be here if he was dead. This person is a living Ancient Egyptian!’

  For a moment there was a stunned silence, then Mrs Lightspeed took a deep breath. ‘I think we had better ask Mister Pharaoh here to explain himself,’ she said. But Sennapod had slumped back into a semi-coma, overcome by the effort of being alive once more – not to mention trying to cope with all the Lightspeeds. His grey face had tipped to one side and his eyes were firmly shut. He did not look at all well.

  ‘We’d better take him upstairs and put him in Carrie’s bed,’ said Mr Lightspeed.

  ‘My bed! Why not Ben’s?’

  ‘Have you seen Ben’s bed?’ asked her mother. ‘It’s not a bed at all. It’s a pig-bin. You can put the air-bed on our floor tonight, Carrie. There’s no room anywhere else.’

  They lifted the Pharaoh from the armchair and carefully carried him upstairs and put him in Carrie’s bed. Explanations would have to wait until morning.

  3 The Chase Begins

  Meanwhile, back at the museum, more strange things had been taking place. Lying unnoticed in a corner of Sennapod’s old coffin was another mummy. It was small, had four legs and a long tail and two pointed ears, all neatly bandaged. The mini-mummy stretched itself slowly, arching its back. It gave a muffled miaow and jumped lightly out of the coffin.

  The two confused and terrified bodies lying on the floor had also come back to life. Grimstone scrambled to his feet and grabbed Professor Jelly. They peered out through the shattered door.

  ‘Sennapod is alive!’ muttered Grimstone. ‘He’s out there, somewhere – a real Four-fifths Dynasty Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh, roaming the streets.’

  Professor Jelly buried his bald head in both hands. ‘I’ve got a massive headache,’ he mumbled. ‘I don’t remember anything in The Curse of Anubis about a headache, do you?’

  ‘Who cares about headaches?’ cried Grimstone. ‘Don’t you understand? We’ve got a real Pharaoh on our hands and he’s wandering about out there with the treasure map – our map, Jelly – unless he left it here, of course.’ Grimstone scrabbled around inside the mummy-case. ‘I can’t see anything in here, can you?’

  Professor Jelly ran his piggy eyes around the painted interior, slowly translating the hieroglyphs. ‘There’s nothing about treasure. Ah – that explains it,’ he sighed.

  ‘What? Have you found the key to the treasure?’

  ‘No, but you see those signs there? They say HE WHO OPENS THE TOMB OF SENNAPOD SHALL HAVE A HEAD THAT FEELS LIKE A CEMENT MIXER.’

  Grimstone wasn’t the least bit interested in the professor’s headache. He tried to pull his colleague away, but only managed to trip over a completely bandaged cat that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. ‘Good heavens! What on earth?’ The cat rubbed its head against Grimstone’s leg.

  Professor Jelly bent down and picked it up. ‘Well now, just look at this, Grimstone.’ The professor fingered the small, ancient clay tablet hanging round the cat’s neck. He read the hieroglyphs. ‘This is Sennapod’s personal cat, Crusher of Worms. The curse must have woken him too.’

  Grimstone snarled, tweaked his beaky nose, and walked quickly to the door. Cats always made him sneeze. ‘We’ve no time for pussy-cats, Jelly. If the map isn’t here, then that festering Pharaoh must have it. We must find him, and it shouldn’t be too difficult. Put that cat down and hurry up.’ He bellowed back to his colleague. ‘Can’t you walk any faster?’

  ‘I’ve got short legs. It’s not my fault I’ve got short legs. And I’ve got a headache.’

  ‘Stop moaning!’ cried Grimstone. ‘Somewhere out on the streets is a fortune walking around in stinky bandages.’

  The two men hurried through the revolving main doors of the empty museum and stood outside on the wet steps, peering into the rain. Professor Jelly hated the rain. With no hair on his head to help soak it up, the drops ran straight off his shiny skull and dribbled down his neck.

  ‘He could still be inside,’ the professor pointed out hopefully, as he locked the museum doors. But Grimstone stalked down the steps and plucked a piece of sodden bandage from the pavement. He held it up triumphantly. ‘Look, it’s Sennapod’s. There’s no time to lose. You take your bicycle. I’ll go on my moped. We’ll comb the streets. We’re bound
to find him.’

  Grimstone ran to the car-park, dragging Jelly behind. A few moments later, a small engine sputtered into life and Grimstone set off, his spidery body dwarfing the rather wobbly moped beneath his bony backside. A bell tinkled in the darkness and Professor Jelly appeared, on an even more wobbly bicycle.

  Professor Jelly began to pedal wearily up and down the silent back streets, squinting into the shadowy corners and calling. ‘Mummy? Mummy? Where are you? Come to me – come to daddy. Oh dear, what am I saying?’

  The two hunters disappeared into the streets surrounding the museum, four eyes piercing the gloom as they set about tracking down their fortune.

  4 Burglars!

  Strange noises were coming from downstairs. Ben stirred and woke. It was early morning and the sun filtered lazily through his curtains. Ben glanced at the clock. Five-thirty! What was going on? BANG! CRASH! Something heavy was being dragged about downstairs. Ben’s heart began to pound loudly. It must be burglars!

  He pushed back the covers, pulled on his dressing-gown and crept to the door. He quietly pulled it open. The thuds and scrapes continued, with a lot of grunting as well. Maybe there were two of them! Ben glanced up the hallway. Carrie’s door was still shut. He slipped across to his parents’ room and carefully opened their door. They were fast asleep. Dad was still wearing his baseball cap. He must warn them!

  Ben took four steps into the dark bedroom, trod on something large and squashy, then fell on top of it. Carrie let out a very crumpled squeak and angrily pushed Ben away. ‘What are you…?’

  ‘Ssssh!’ hissed Ben. ‘Sorry, I forgot you were in here. Listen, there are burglars downstairs.’ Carrie was about to say something very sarcastic when a loud crash from below made her sit up at once. She stared at Ben, round-eyed. ‘I’m going to tell Dad,’ he said, and he hurried to his father and began shaking him.

  Carrie woke her mother and all four of them listened to the thuds and grunts. Stealthily, they crept down the stairs, with Dad and Mum at the front. Mr Lightspeed was carrying his old guitar high above his head, ready to batter any burglar they came across.

  Just as they reached the door to the front room, the bumps and thumps stopped. An eerie silence followed. ‘Now’s our chance,’ whispered Mr Lightspeed, pulling his baseball cap down firmly. ‘When I say “go”, we all rush in. OK?’

  Mrs Lightspeed clutched her husband’s arm. ‘When you say “go”,’ she repeated, and turned to Ben and Carrie. ‘When your dad says “go”, we all rush in,’ she explained nervously, as if they hadn’t already heard.

  Mr Lightspeed shuffled his feet. ‘I’m going to say “go” any second,’ he warned. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready,’ said Ben and Carrie.

  ‘Ready,’ said Mrs Lightspeed.

  Mr Lightspeed gripped his guitar even more tightly. ‘Right, then, here we go…’ He was about to shout ‘go’, but the other three thought he’d just given the command, and with a blood-curdling yell three Lightspeeds rushed forward.

  Mr Lightspeed was knocked flat on his face, while his wife and children trampled straight over him and burst into the front room. There was a loud TWANG! as Ben put one foot through his father’s guitar. It flapped around his foot like a gigantic wooden slipper.

  Mr Lightspeed struggled to his feet, to find his wife and Ben and Carrie standing in the front room, goggling thunderstruck.

  Right on top of the dining table was an armchair, and sitting majestically in the armchair was He Whose Name Shall Rumble Down The Ages. Sennapod’s arms were folded cross-wise upon his bandaged chest, but it was not just the Pharaoh’s table-top throne that had everyone staring. It was the Pharaoh’s face.

  It was grey no longer. The skin was powdered a pinkish-white. His eyes were outlined with elegant black lines, along with a becoming shade of blue. Red lipstick adorned his ancient lips and his cheeks were lightly rouged. Sennapod had evidently been having a great time with Carrie’s make-up. Not only this, but for some reason he had taken one of Carrie’s stubby perfumed candles and stuck it on top of his head, alight.

  Sennapod’s fearful eyes bored deep holes into the burglar-bashers. ‘Fall upon your knees, worms, and worship the Pharaoh!’ The effect of all this was so stunning that Mr and Mrs Lightspeed dutifully sank to their knees, but Ben and Carrie ignored him.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Ben. ‘But I don’t think worms have knees, do they?’

  ‘On your knees!’ roared Sennapod, making the candle wobble dangerously.

  ‘I’ve been thinking –’ started Ben.

  ‘Is that possible?’ Carrie muttered under her breath.

  ‘You can’t really be an Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh,’ Ben went on. ‘I mean, it’s impossible. Nobody can come back from the dead like that. You can’t just un-deadify yourself.’

  The Lightspeeds paused and looked at Ben, and then at the Pharaoh. ‘You’ve got to admit, he’s got a point,’ said Mr Lightspeed.

  ‘I have not told you everything,’ began Sennapod haughtily. ‘I missed a bit out.’

  Carrie began to laugh. ‘You missed a bit out? I suppose that was the bit where your fairy godmother came along and sprinkled you with stardust…’

  Sennapod leaped to his feet, or at least he tried to. Since he was already on top of the dining-table, when he jumped up his head hit the ceiling with a skull-cracking thump. The perfumed candle went out at once, but the hot wax was squidged hard against the ceiling and stuck there. Sennapod then sat down so quickly and so hard that one of the table legs broke. The armchair, complete with a very dazed Pharaoh, was suddenly launched forward into thin air. The Lightspeeds threw themselves back against the wall, which was quite difficult for Ben because he still had a guitar on one foot. There they watched helplessly as the big armchair crashed across the room with Sennapod clinging on for dear life. The chair screeched to a halt and Sennapod struggled to pull himself back into a more regal position. He pointed a thin, accusing finger at Carrie.

  ‘Is she always like this?’ he exploded. ‘She should be thrown into the cobra-pit!’

  ‘That’s what I say,’ agreed Ben, beginning to quite like this crusty old Pharaoh. Mrs Lightspeed moved protectively in front of her daughter.

  ‘Now, you listen here. You might be a Pharaoh but I won’t have you talking to Carrie like that. What’s more, Ben is right. People can’t un-deadify themselves, or whatever he said, so kindly explain yourself – and the candle.’

  Then it was Ben’s turn again. ‘When Pharaohs were mummified, the priests cut out the lungs, liver, and other stomach bits and put them into, well, sort of jam-jars.’

  ‘There’s no need to go into detail,’ said Mr Lightspeed, green-faced. ‘We haven’t had breakfast yet.’

  ‘Well, they did,’ Ben went on. ‘They had to get the brain out too and that was really difficult. They’d get a long piece of wire with a hook on one end and pull your brain out down your nostrils –’

  ‘BEN!’

  ‘All I’m saying is: how come Sennapod can wander around if all his insides are missing and he’s got no brain?’

  This very astute question had all the Lightspeeds looking enquiringly at the Pharaoh. Carrie gingerly felt how large her skull was and then how tiny her small and delicate nostrils were. She winced.

  At this point Rustbucket, the Lightspeeds’ ginger cat, trotted into the room. Although the cat had never met Sennapod before, she went directly to him and jumped on to his lap. The Pharaoh smiled as he felt the cat’s warm and comforting fur beneath his gnarled fingers. Rustbucket pushed her head under Sennapod’s chin, then curled up on his lap and began purring loudly. Somehow the cat’s friendliness made Sennapod feel a bit stronger.

  ‘The priests knew I was dying. One of them had invented a new method of mummification that left the body whole. It meant I would be perfect when I reached the Land of the Dead, but the process had to be started before I was actually dead.’

  ‘You were buried alive!’ shouted Carrie. ‘Yuk! Cree-PEE!’

/>   ‘I was in a coma. There was only darkness. I had no idea of time. One year, a thousand years – it was all the same. It was like being asleep – until the coffin was opened.’

  ‘Who opened it?’ asked Mrs Lightspeed.

  Sennapod’s face clouded angrily.

  ‘Miserable maggots who should be squeezed slowly until –’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she quickly interrupted. ‘I suppose it could be true. You certainly look as if you’ve been dead for thousands of years… doesn’t explain the candle though,’ she added, gazing up at the ceiling once more.

  ‘How come you speak English?’ Carrie suddenly demanded. ‘You should be speaking Ancient Egyptian.’

  Sennapod sniffed regally. ‘I’m a Pharaoh. I’m a god. I can do anything I wish. Anyhow – I’ve been stuck in an English museum for seventy years, listening to fools come and go. I’ve learned a lot.’

  Carrie was still not satisfied. ‘Well, why have you used up all my make-up and how are you going to get my candle back down and what were you doing up on that table?’

  This barrage of questions was too much for Sennapod. He was still immensely tired. His whole body seemed to crumple into the armchair. He fought to keep his eyes on this strange family from another world. ? don’t know. It’s all too…’ His head fell to one side and his eyes closed. Rustbucket gave an angry mew and sat up straight and alert, looking for all the world as if she was guarding the Pharaoh.

  ‘He’s dead!’ shouted Ben, glaring at his sister. ‘You and all your clever-clever questions. I always knew you’d question someone to death one day!’

  ‘That’s enough, Ben,’ said Mr Lightspeed. ‘He’s sleeping, that’s all. He’s still very weak.’ He tucked a blanket round the mummy. Sennapod’s head jerked several times. His old lips smacked together and gargantuan snores battered the walls. Even the windows rattled.