The Mystery of Queen Nefertiti

by C T Cassana

  “Bingo!” he exclaimed when he saw that, along with the usual writing in Latin, there were several illustrations explaining how it worked.

  Thanks to these pictures he was able to work out that the clothing annulus provided time travelers with different types of clothes, from which they could choose the ones most in keeping with the time and place they were traveling to. The options were classified according to a rather basic social division, but suitable for nearly any place and time they might visit: religious, military and three social levels: high, middle and low.

  Without hesitation, Charlie moved the dial to the setting for the high social level. He then hid the book under his jersey and flushed the toilet before leaving the bathroom to justify his presence there.

  With the utmost stealth he slipped into his bedroom and closed the door. He opened his bag, hid the Book of Time inside it and took out his father’s GPS, which he used to search for theaters in Vienna. Luckily, the one that Miss Rotherwick had mentioned was still around. One by one he read the names on the list displayed on the device, until he saw “Theater auf der Wieden”. Everything was working out perfectly. Careful not to make a mistake, he entered the coordinates of the theater on the bracelet and the date of the premiere of The Magic Flute, which he had memorized on the drive home. Finally, he crept noiselessly out of the room and over to the desk, where he took the cape that was hanging on the back of the chair. Once he had put it on and done it up, he went to look for his travel companion.

  She was in the kitchen, serving up a couple of plates of spaghetti that smelled delicious. It was a shame to have to leave without trying it, but perhaps he could have it when they got back.

  “Helen, would you like to go out tonight?” he asked as he moved toward Miss Rotherwick, a moment before he threw his arms around her.

  The woman turned around with a smile, which evaporated at once when she saw that he was wearing the cape.

  “What on earth are you up to, young man?” she demanded, an instant before she felt the ground under her feet and everything around her begin to spin in a dizzying whirl.

  . . .

  When she opened her eyes, she saw her hands resting upon an exquisite bottle-green silk skirt. Charlie had sat her down in a red leather armchair on one side of an enormous hall, and was waiting patiently at her side for her to recover from the vertigo. By this stage, he hardly suffered any adverse effects from time traveling; at most he would sway a little for a few seconds upon arriving at his destination. But it seemed to affect Miss Rotherwick more than usual; she got extremely dizzy and needed several minutes to recover.

  The woman sighed in resignation, prepared to discover the devilish plan that her young house guest had concocted. As she raised her head to look around her, she had the sensation that she was wearing something large and heavy on her head. When her eyes turned to Charlie, she recalled the brief conversation they’d had in the car on the way back from the hospital, and at once she understood when and where they were. The boy had defied her by using the cape again, but she couldn’t help but feel extraordinarily excited about where he had brought her.

  Charlie was wearing a wig dusted in white powder, with ringlets on either side of his face and a ponytail gathered up with a large satin bow. From under his cape emerged a beautiful blue silk dress coat with fine embroidery of gold and silver, trousers to match, a frilled shirt and shoes with large gold buckles. He looked like a star from a period film, a movie set in Imperial Vienna about the life of Mozart himself.

  “You are a devil!” exclaimed Miss Rotherwick, aware that her remark had more a ring of approval than of a scolding.

  Charlie let out a laugh.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, taking her by the hand and bowing to her politely. “The most elegant lady in all of Vienna.”

  Miss Rotherwick lowered her head to thank him, while taking care not to shake off her headpiece. She then stood up and walked over to a huge golden mirror nearby to see how she looked. The boy hadn’t lied; she looked magnificent. Her gray woolen outfit had been transformed into a spectacular green silk dress; her cooking apron was now a silk cape with borders of sable; and her simple pearl necklace was now a dazzling piece of jewelry set with a large, tear-shaped emerald. The weight she felt on her head was an elegant headpiece with feathers and green silk bows, perched tentatively on top of a wig of white-dusted curls. Even the money she had been carrying in her pockets had been transformed into florins from the era. Obviously, Charlie had learned how to use the clothing annulus without her help.

  “I feel like Cinderella after the visit from her fairy godmother,” she said with evident excitement.

  A group of ladies standing nearby were looking her over, whispering among themselves, shooting envious glances at her attire and especially her jewelry. Charlie watched them with amusement and then turned to Miss Rotherwick, offering her his hand ceremoniously.

  “Let’s go see if there’s a free box we can sneak into.”

  They crossed the hall together and walked up the steps of the theater, while men and women turned to admire them and ask one another who such a refined looking lady might be.

  At the door to each box was an usher responsible for helping the audience members to their seats. Charlie and Miss Rotherwick walked on discreetly, looking from one side to the other to see if there was a box that was empty.

  “Good heavens, my dear!” exclaimed the woman. “I have never sneaked in anywhere in my whole life!”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” replied the boy. “And if they catch us, at least nobody will recognize you.”

  The woman smiled at Charlie’s comment, although she didn’t find it particularly reassuring. She knew that what they were doing was wrong, because their trip back in time was against her orders and because they didn’t have tickets to that night’s performance. But she also knew that the boy had brought her to see the premiere of The Magic Flute, and not just the opening of any opera season at Covent Garden, but its very first performance in history, conducted by Mozart himself, on September 30, 1791. Just like Adam with the apple dangling in front of him, this was a temptation too strong for her to resist.

  “It looks like that box over there is empty,” said Charlie, adjusting his bracelet to transport them directly inside it.

  They both appeared in a small vestibule that led into an enormous and completely empty theater box. Miss Rotherwick gaped, speechless as she looked out over the packed audience. The musicians were tuning their instruments in the orchestra pit, while on the main floor a few stragglers were making their way to their seats. In the boxes, the aristocratic families spied on one another through their golden spectacles and greeted each other with a smile and a slight nod of the head.

  Charlie and Miss Rotherwick had just taken a seat when a lady and a gentleman appeared.

  “Excuse me, madam, but I believe this is my box,” said the gentleman with a bow.

  Charlie froze when he heard him. He didn’t understand a word of German, but he was able to guess what the man was saying. Miss Rotherwick also froze for a moment when she realized they had been caught red-handed, while the gentleman and his wife looked them over carefully. It was the woman they had seen down in the entrance hall. They didn’t know her or realize that she was not from Vienna, but her dress and her jewels suggested that she was a great lady of the nobility, and before entering the box they had been speculating about her identity with acquaintances in the hall. The gentleman discreetly checked the lady’s fingers in the hope of finding a ring with a family coat of arms that might have given them a clue, but she only wore a single ring with a large emerald that almost matched the size of the one hanging from her spectacular necklace.

  “I am very sorry, sir. It appears there has been a mix-up,” replied the unknown lady in perfect German. She had a slight accent, but neither the man nor his wife were able to identify it.

  Charlie smiled with relief when he heard her; thank God Miss Rotherwick could spe
ak German. She made a signal to him and stood up to leave the box. Although the situation was rather embarrassing, she raised her head in a haughty gesture and kept her dignity. But then the gentleman’s wife stepped in front of her.

  “Allow me to introduce myself, madam,” she announced ceremoniously. I am the Baroness of Zweibrücken and this is my husband, the Baron. We would be most honored if you would accompany us in our humble box this evening.”

  Miss Rotherwick smiled politely and lowered her head in acceptance of the invitation.

  “I am Lady Helen Rotherwick, Duchess of Arlington, and this is my young grandson, the Honorable Charles Edward Wilford, Marquis of Northampton. The honor is ours.”

  Charlie gave a small bow on hearing his name linked to a noble title, while the Viennese lady stifled a squeal of delight.

  “Are you not a cousin of King George?” she asked.

  Miss Rotherwick smiled without answering and the Baroness took this to mean that she had guessed correctly.

  With her eyes she gestured to her husband to seat their distinguished guest and her grandson at the front of the box where everybody would be able to see them. All the aristocratic families of Vienna were attending the premiere that night and all of them had noticed the mysterious lady. Nobody knew who she was, but it was evident that her birth was high and her fortune considerable. And by an incredible stroke of luck, she had appeared in their box, and had agreed to share the evening with them; and she had done so in front of everyone. Now everybody would think that the lady was really their guest and would imagine that they were friends or perhaps even relatives.

  It would be the talk of the town for the next few weeks. And she, the Baroness of Zweibrücken, would be the most sought-after woman in all of Vienna, and indispensable at any social gathering for some time to come.

  . . .

  Once the show began, Charlie tried his best to follow the plot of the opera. The music he had heard in the car was pretty good and the title certainly sounded interesting. The beginning, where a prince was chased by a snake who wanted to eat him, was promising enough; but the story fell apart pretty quickly when the man, instead of fighting for his life, merely fainted. Then the story turned into a confusing parade of strange characters coming on and off the stage, and nothing seemed to make much sense. Three ladies, a man disguised as a bird, a queen dressed in black, a princess, a man who looked like the bad guy...

  Miss Rotherwick, however, was enjoying it enormously. She was thrilled when Mozart made his appearance and began conducting the orchestra. At first she tried to explain to the boy what was going on, but she soon gave up when she realized it was too complicated, and that in any case he wasn’t particularly interested.

  Every now and then the lady in the box pestered her with an effort to engage in conversation, but Miss Rotherwick smothered all her attempts with a polite but brief reply.

  Charlie tried to amuse himself by studying the people in the audience, but he soon became tired and fell asleep out of pure boredom. When he opened his eyes again he felt a little embarrassed, but he relaxed when he saw that the opera had produced a similarly soporific effect on the Baron.

  Miss Rotherwick appeared to notice the boy’s disappointment when he saw that the queen in black was still singing on the stage.

  “It’s almost over, my dear. We’ll get going shortly,” she said to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  Charlie waited patiently while he pondered how hard it was to please women and tried to wake himself up; he had to have all his wits about him to be able to make it through the rest of the night.

  A little later, the music ended and the audience rose to its feet to offer an ovation that seemed to him to be rather excessive. He had been watching the crowd and had noticed a number of people who had been at least as bored as he was.

  The actors came out onto the stage for their final bows, and at once they made way for a man in a white wig and a suit like Charlie’s, but with somewhat less embroidery.

  “It’s Mozart!” exclaimed Miss Rotherwick, applauding wildly.

  Charlie fixed his gaze on the man on the stage, recalling what she had told him in the car: he had only two months left to live. The boy tried to detect some sign of illness in his face, but he only looked tired.

  The Baron, who had been awoken by the applause, jumped to his feet and helped Miss Rotherwick to put on her cloak with a multitude of bows, and then assisted Charlie, with rather fewer.

  “Please allow us to take you in our coach, Your Highness,” said the Baroness, inadvertently raising her guest’s aristocratic rank.

  “Oh, please don’t trouble yourself, my dear. We have brought our own,” responded Miss Rotherwick kindly.

  She walked over to Charlie, who was already waiting for her in the little vestibule with the bracelet set to take them back home.

  Annoyed, the Viennese dame turned back to her husband. The fool of a man was putting on his cloak so calmly, without even realizing that their distinguished guest was leaving. His wife chided him to get moving. They had to go after her and interrogate her coach driver to find out where she was staying. But when she turned back to follow her, the lady and her grandson had already vanished.

  Absolutely enraged, she charged out of the box with the intention of hunting them down, but she couldn’t find them in the passageway or going down the stairs either.

  “Where is she?” she asked the theater attendant who had opened the door to her box.

  “Who, madam?” asked the man, looking vaguely bewildered.

  “The Duchess of Arlington, you fool! She left my box only a minute ago.”

  “Excuse me, madam, but you are the first person to come out this door.”

  . . .

  Miss Rotherwick collapsed onto her couch with a smile from ear to ear.

  “That was a wonderful night!” she announced, elated. She went over to Charlie and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That was the best present I have ever been given in my life. Thank you, my dear.”

  The boy felt a little guilty about accepting her thanks. The trip had not been a selfless gift on his part, but a ruse to persuade her to join their mission without informing their parents of the existence of the cape. A rumbling in his stomach made him decide to try to convince her over dinner.

  “Do you think we could eat that spaghetti now?” he asked.

  Miss Rotherwick nodded with a smile. In her excitement she had forgotten that they hadn’t had dinner yet, and luckily they had returned at the same moment they had left. It was seven o’clock again; dinnertime.

  They sat down at the table and began an animated conversation.

  “Have you seen that opera before?” asked Charlie.

  “Yes, several times.”

  “And did you like this performance?”

  “Oh, my dear! This performance was quite incomparable to any other! Did you know that Mozart composed the music for the most important pieces after hearing the actors sing? He made the melody to measure, adapting it to the timbre of their voices and their technical gifts. He was a genius,” she added, shaking her head.

  “I missed a few bits, so I can’t really offer much of an opinion...”

  “I suppose you were bored, but when you’re older I’m sure you’ll like the opera.”

  “Tomorrow night we could go see a performance by the Great Houdini; I’ll bet that would be more fun.”

  Miss Rotherwick smiled slightly. Then, almost imperceptibly, her expression turned grim.

  “Your mother called this afternoon, when you were in the bathroom, to say that she’s coming back tomorrow.”

  “So soon?”

  “They’ve confirmed that the papyrus scroll is not in the Louvre. It seems the French archeologists came back from Egypt without it.”

  “And is that good or bad?” asked the boy, who lacked his father’s extensive knowledge of history.

  “Bad, my dear. I’m afraid your mother has lost the only clue we had,” replied the woman mo
urnfully.

  “Don’t worry, Helen!” exclaimed the boy. “We’ll find a new one! We make a good team... I mean, you are going to join our team now, aren’t you?”

  Miss Rotherwick had no desire to become embroiled in another debate on the question and tried to settle things quickly.

  “Charlie... I know that it’s hard for you to understand... Tomorrow when your mother gets back I’ll be telling her everything, my dear.”

  “But if you do that, we’ll never travel back in time again!” protested Charlie.

  It seemed unbelievable to him. Despite the fact that everything had changed, that their mother needed their help, Miss Rotherwick’s position remained the same.

  “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s what I must do,” she said in a very serious, almost solemn tone.

  The boy felt a mixture of rage and helplessness rise up inside him. It was the second time that he had taken for granted that Miss Rotherwick would help them, and the second time she was letting them down at the last moment. He’d had too many disappointments in one day.

  “Come on, Helen. Think it over for a few days...”

  “I’ve already thought it over, my dear,” interrupted Miss Rotherwick, increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

  “But you know that our mother won’t let us help her. Lisa wasn’t lying when she said that she would think it was like cheating, that she...”

  “I have not changed my mind since this morning and I stand by everything I said to you and Lisa in the hospital,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ve made my decision and there’s nothing further to talk about.”

  Charlie glared furiously at her. In spite of all that he had done for her, and all the fun they’d had together, Miss Rotherwick had gone to the other side without thinking twice about it. It didn’t matter how well they got along or the relationship of trust and friendship that had developed between them. She was simply going to forget all that and act like any other grown-up. She hadn’t even given him the chance to explain, much less to beg her. And that was what bothered him most of all, because he knew that nobody could resist him when he begged. Except for his father, and even he could only do it occasionally.