The Secret of the Scarab Beetle

by William Meyer

  “That’s great, but . . . but what does it all mean?” Horace’s heart began to race.

  The boy quickly carved a series of glyphs into his tablet. “It’s complicated, but the most important thing is that it reveals the magic and wisdom of the Benben Stone. If Ay asks, just say it’s part of the cycle of life and death. He loves that stuff.” The boy smiled.

  “So you’ve made a friend.” Horace turned to see a mangled face staring over his shoulder. The man’s nose looked like it had been broken multiple times, and his front brown-colored teeth were rotting. A black robe covered his deformed back, and his right eye seemed to twitch nervously as he spoke.

  “Does he have a name?” the man asked the boy next to Horace.

  Horace’s face flushed. He was caught!

  But before the boy could answer, Ay jumped in. “What are you doing here, Eke?”

  Eke slowly lifted his gaze from the two boys and snarled. “I’ve come to get some of the tablets for the temple. The priests need them for . . . work.”

  Without turning around, Ay walked over, ignoring Horace, and grabbed the pile of clay tablets on the wall. “Now leave us alone.”

  “How generous of you, Ay. Sharing your precious supplies.” Eke’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he looked down over Horace’s shoulder. “Teaching about the Benben Stone, are we? Don’t confuse these boys with stories from the past.” Eke lowered his head, revealing more of his rotting teeth. “The past is dead, Ay. You should know that. History has no place here in Amarna. Isn’t that what our precious pharaoh used to say? But the future . . . Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” He smiled a terrible grin, then whispered down at Horace and the other boy, “Wait and see who is the next King . . .”

  Eke said something more under his breath and then turned to leave, but his foot caught the bottom of his robe. The clay tablets went spilling out into the hallway, the boys laughing loudly at his misfortune.

  Eke began to collect the tablets, when he stopped. “Laugh now, but we’ll see who is laughing next time.” Eke gave Ay a long sneer and then left.

  Horace couldn’t shake the goose bumps that lingered on his neck.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s all talk,” Horace’s new friend said reassuringly. “He’s always like that, especially around Ay.” The boy paused and made sure no one else was listening. “Those two never got along. He thinks Ay took his job.”

  “As the teacher?” asked Horace.

  “No, he thinks he took his job as one of the head priests in the temple. Ay was one of my father’s closest advisors, but now Eke’s been trying to replace him. He’s been running around spreading rumors about Ay and the other priests from Amarna. He says they’re going to destroy the country and anger all the gods.”

  “What do you mean? Why would the gods be mad?” Horace whispered back.

  “The same reason Eke and the priests are mad.” The boy paused and scrunched his shoulders like it was obvious. “My father got rid of them.”

  First Amarna, then the Benben Stone, and now someone who had gotten rid of all the priests and the gods. How had those library books never mentioned any of this?

  “Don’t you know all that?” the boy asked.

  Horace mumbled under his breath and then decided to change the subject. “What’s your name?”

  “Me?” The boy shot Horace a funny look, as if he should have known that, too. “I’m Tutankh, but all my friends call me Tut.”

  Horace’s jaw dropped.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Y-you’re,” Horace started to stammer. “You’re King Tut. The King Tut.” He could hardly hide his surprise.

  Tut only shook his head dismissively. “No, no, no. I’m not king. At least not yet.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What’s your name?”

  “Me?” Horace hesitated then finally decided the truth couldn’t hurt. “I’m Horace.”

  “Horace, like the god.” Now Tut was the one who sounded surprised. “That’s a pretty powerful name.”

  Horace had always thought his name sounded old-fashioned and boring, but Tut actually seemed impressed. He knew his name was connected to an Egyptian god, just spelled differently, and his grandpa had said it was also connected to the Dodge brothers, but those were the only two cool things about it.

  A bell tolled deep within the walls of the temple, and Horace half expected Mr. Witherspoon to announce a fire drill. Ay moved back to the center of the room. “All right, that’s enough for one day. For homework, fill in the missing part of your tablets.”

  The other students nodded and started to pack up. This was Horace’s cue to do the same, but he didn’t know where to begin.

  He needed to figure out a way home. Yet before he could slip out unnoticed, Ay pulled him aside.

  “I don’t know what you learned in Thebes, but we expect our students to have their supplies around here. Okay? Now don’t forget your homework.” Ay handed Horace another tablet covered in hieroglyphics.

  Horace nodded anxiously. Ancient homework? What could be worse?

  Tut came up next to him. “Do you want me to show you around?”

  “That’d be great,” Horace said with a mixture of eagerness and relief.

  Ay interrupted, “As for you, Tut, you need to be back later this afternoon to practice. You have a lot to do and only a few weeks left.”

  “I know. I’ll just show Horace some of the temple.”

  “That’s fine—just stay out of the West Wing,” Ay added firmly.

  Suddenly the thought of going back to Niles didn’t seem so important. Horace was about to be shown around Ancient Egypt and by none other than the famous King Tut!

  Once they left the peaceful confines of the classroom, the halls of the temple brimmed with new energy and life. It seemed like everyone in the city had descended on the place. The light flickered across the faces of dozens of men and women who passed by as the two boys walked toward the entrance hall. Most wore the same long white robes as Ay, though a few sported robes of red, and even fewer, like Eke, dressed in black.

  Horace looked over and saw a dark set of stairs leading down into another hallway.

  “What’s down there?”

  Tut bent in even closer. “That’s the West Wing. It’s the most sacred area of the whole place and only open to the high priests. They say the priests keep the greatest objects of magic down there.” His eyes opened even wider. “And they guard them with magical creatures. Ay use to tell me stories about wandering kids being eaten alive by the lions in the West Wing. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but I don’t really want to find out.”

  “Neither do I.” Horace felt a queasy feeling in his stomach. It sounded worse than the basement.

  Two boys walked up to them through the crowd, breaking Horace’s train of thought. “Hey, Tut,” one said. “Are you free later?”

  “Not today. I’ve got to practice with Ay.”

  “Lucky. We’re on our way to the library. We’ve got to finish these scrolls.” The boy held up a thickly rolled sheet of papyrus.

  “That stinks. Maybe I’ll see you around later,” Tut answered politely.

  “For sure.” The boys smiled and disappeared into the crowded hall.

  “What did you mean about practicing? What do you have to practice for?” Horace wondered if Tut had an important game coming up, or maybe even a presentation, like his own with Seth.

  Tut eyed Horace suspiciously for a moment. “You don’t know about my coronation? I thought everyone did. The coronation is the last ritual before becoming king.”

  Horace had read about Tut and his tomb, but he knew almost nothing about a coronation ceremony. In fact, most of the books he’d read barely mentioned Tut’s life. Rather than risking saying something else stupid, Horace remained quiet.

  The two boys kept walking until they entered an elaborately manicured courtyard full of towering palm trees, blooming flowers, and a bubbling stream
that ran through the middle.

  “Can I show you something? Promise you won’t laugh at me or say anything?” asked Tut.

  “Sure,” said Horace, unsure of what might follow.

  Tut sat down on one of the stone ledges outside the garden, then looked around to make sure no one else was watching. Slowly, he pulled up his robe, revealing the lower half of his left leg. It was contorted inward and looked like it was an inch shorter than his right.

  Horace couldn’t believe his eyes. King Tut had a clubfoot.

  Tut dropped his robe again. “See, I’m not made to be pharaoh.”

  Horace sat in stunned silence.

  “That’s why Eke keeps giving me such a hard time.”

  “Who’d be pharaoh, then?”

  “I don’t know. Probably my uncle Smenk. He’s running the country now anyway.” Tut looked sad. “It hasn’t been easy since my father died. I used to know exactly what I was supposed to do, but now . . . I’m not even sure I should be king. My uncle and the old priests are still angry my father turned away from their gods. My uncle claims he cursed the country when he did it. And my leg . . . Well, I guess my leg is proof to them.” Tut bent his head down. “I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a pharaoh. I can’t run around like the other kids, let alone lead a kingdom. I would so much rather be like you. And just be normal.”

  “Trust me. It’s not that great.”

  Tut grinned, but then shared more of his doubt. “At least the old pharaohs could claim they got their power from the Benben Stone, but now that’s gone too. Not even the gods are on my side. I don’t know what to do, Horace.” Another moment passed in silence. “Sorry to be such a drag.”

  “No, I’m glad you told me. I promise not to say a word,” Horace added, wondering more about the significance of this stone. It was the same one he’d read about on his tablet in class.

  “Enough of this boring stuff. Let me show you my favorite place in the temple.” Tut smiled. “I think you’ll like it. Especially given your name.”

  Tut guided Horace through a bunch of other classrooms. In some, students were being taught math; in another room they were levitating objects; and in one class students were turning wooden staffs into snakes. Egypt was literally filled with magic!

  Tut led Horace through a set of wooden doors as tall as the basketball hoops in the gym at school. Beyond was an enormous open space.

  “It’s a falconry!” said Tut.

  Horace knew what a falconry was from his readings. It was common in the medieval world. Knights used the birds to hunt down small animals. They’d have elaborate competitions in the castles to see who had the swiftest and fastest bird. But he didn’t know the Egyptians were one of the earliest civilizations to also train the animals.

  “The first thing we have to do is find you a bird,” added Tut.

  Horace looked around and noticed a tree covered in colorful flying creatures.

  Tut walked over and slipped a glove over Horace’s left arm and then placed a small object that looked like an ancient whistle in his right palm. “You should probably try to start with one of the smaller birds. The big ones . . . Well, they can get a little snippy.” Tut pointed to a tree near the opposite wall.

  Horace walked toward the smaller tree, well aware from his experience with Shadow of how dangerous an angry bird could be. Slowly, he stuck his arm out toward one of the creatures. The bird closest to him let out a strange hiss and made a pecking motion at his hand. Suddenly the rest of the birds took flight at his approach, and the whole tree was empty.

  Horace bit down on his lip in frustration. This wasn’t going to be so easy.

  He looked at Tut, who gave him another wave of encouragement, and Horace walked over to a second tree. Again, he lifted his arm—and nothing. This time the cast of birds didn’t even move.

  “Try again, Horace.”

  With Tut’s encouragement, Horace sheepishly began to walk over to a much taller tree. This one filled with birds that looked to be the size of footballs. Horace couldn’t help but notice their sharp talons, deadly claws squeezing tightly around the branches.

  “Be careful. Those aren’t as friendly,” warned Tut. “Just walk calmly and confidently.”

  Horace swallowed and stepped beneath the towering canopy of this larger tree. He flinched as one of the bigger birds took flight and dove past his head.

  “You’re doing great!” Tut yelled from behind him.

  Horace didn’t think so. He was just hoping a bird didn’t eat his ear for lunch. He slowly circled the tree, taking each step as quietly and deliberately as if he were trying to sneak into his sisters’ room. While a few birds chirped at his presence, most seemed uninterested in his outstretched arm.

  Finally, in one last attempt, Horace raised his gloved arm with great care and blew into the whistle. Barely a sound was made.

  Horace took another deep inhale and tried again. This time the whistle gave a long and clear ring, echoing off the walls of the vast courtyard. Hundreds of birds—not just the ones in front of him—took flight. The sound was deafening. He wasn’t even able to see Tut anymore through the shapes and sounds of the flying creatures. He feared he might have set off some unstoppable chain reaction.

  Horace was ducking his head left and right, readying to run when, out of nowhere, he felt a firm grip snap on his gloved arm.

  He blinked in shock. A single bird was perched firmly on the leather glove of his hand. It had worked! But this was only half the surprise. As he looked more closely, he noticed the bird was covered in speckled brown and black feathers, had two black eyes, and had a single yellow dot in the middle of its small forehead. Horace felt a chill run down his spine. He’d seen the bird before in Niles. It was Shadow.

  “Great job, Horace!” Suddenly Tut was by his side.

  The bird immediately leaped into the air.

  Horace’s face turned pale.

  “Are you okay?” Tut asked.

  Another bell tolled deep within the temple.

  “Sorry, I think I just need to head home soon. I’m not feeling so well.” What was Shadow doing here in Egypt?

  Sensing a shift in his companion, Tut quickly changed the subject. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you back to the gate,” Tut said reassuringly. “It’s on the way to the palace. I saw you there by the obelisks this morning.”

  Horace nodded, realizing the obelisks must be the towering stone slabs he first saw at the gate. The same ones he’d seen in his dream. Maybe they were the other end of the secret door here in Egypt. Maybe they were his passage back to the future.

  “Oh, thanks,” said Horace with great relief.

  “Just don’t forget your homework.” Tut smiled, handing Horace the tablet he’d been working on earlier in the day.

  Horace took the tablet and then followed Tut out of the temple and into the city. As they walked through the streets, Horace found himself lost in a hundred new questions. Tut wasn’t some stuffy pharaoh from his textbook, and he wasn’t perfect, either. Tut’s family seemed to have a lot of secrets, and perhaps the same thing might even be true of his own. Was Tut the boy who needed help? Help with what, though? But the falcon . . . Horace couldn’t make any sense of how Shadow was in Ancient Egypt either. Could she have flown through the portal?

  When the obelisks emerged above the walled city, Horace realized they’d reached their destination.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Horace?”

  Horace smiled but didn’t know how to answer.

  “Just make sure you do your homework. Ay doesn’t mess around.”

  “Thanks,” Horace answered. “I’ll be sure to finish it.”

  As Tut left Horace standing all alone at the edge of the city, a growing sense of dread and loneliness filled his heart. How was he ever going to get home?

  He almost considered running after Tut, when he felt something move in his pocket. The beetle!

  It was still there. He looked around to make sure the streets wer
e empty, then reached down and took it out.

  The beetle came to life immediately in his hand, and this time two wings emerged from its back. Literally springing out of his hand, it hovered over his palm and then began to flutter toward the base of the towering obelisk on the right. Horace noticed another indent, just like the one he’d seen in the sycamore tree. He placed the beetle into the small indent.

  A warm, blue doorway of light opened at the base of the granite pillar.

  As Horace’s eyes adjusted from the intense hues of blue that had just surrounded him, he realized he was back at the farm. In front of him was the shed; behind him, the sycamore tree. He stood still for a moment in the fields of the farm, gathering his thoughts. Traveling back in time to Ancient Egypt was beyond anything he’d ever imagined or dreamed.

  He looked down and realized he not only had the beetle in one hand, but he still held the clay tablet from class in the other. His sandals and robe were gone, though. He was back in his old clothes. Walking around the house, he also noticed his uncle’s car. He quickly slipped the tablet into his backpack and started to jump on his bike.

  A voice called from the front door. “Horace, what are you doing here?” Horace’s uncle was walking toward him from the house. A second man stood on the porch. He wore an overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, an odd outfit for a sunny fall day.

  “I didn’t see you out here earlier, but I found one of your tissues in the office.” Horace’s uncle held the tissue with his fingertips.

  “I was just checking to see if my mom left her purse here.”

  His uncle looked unconvinced. “Listen, I don’t want you snooping around. I have important business to take care of. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” Horace said quietly.

  “If I catch you here again, you’re going to be in big trouble. Do I make myself clear?”

  Horace nodded. “I understand.”

  “Now get home to your parents. It’s getting late.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost six.”

  Horace ran the numbers in his head. He had spent almost an entire day in Egypt and only an hour or two had passed in Niles. The portal not only took him through space, it also altered time. Horace ran around the outside of the house and hopped on his bike.