Tags:
Fiction,
Action & Adventure,
Juvenile Fiction,
Magic,
Family Life,
Occult fiction,
Adventure and Adventurers,
Great Britain,
Egypt,
London (England),
Antiquities,
Good and Evil,
Occultism,
Blessing and Cursing,
Egypt - Antiquities,
Museums,
London (England) - History - 20th Century,
Great Britain - History - Edward VII; 1901-1910,
Incantations; Egyptian,
Family Life - England
serpent of chaos and the god of war used together like that before."
"Me neither," said Mum.
I had a sudden vision of the Mantu hieroglyph I had seen last night. "I have," I muttered. Both Mum and Father looked at me as if they'd forgotten I was there.
"Where would you have seen such a thing, Theodosia?" Father asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. But of course I wasn't about to tell him it had been on the Bastet statue. "Er, can't remember where ... Sorry," I said.
By the expression on his face, it was clear he thought I was pulling his leg. "Anyway," Mother continued after an awkward moment. "Amenemhab's tomb also contained a small temple dedicated to the god of war, Mantu."
"Really?" Father exclaimed.
We spent the next few minutes happily examining stele after stele, spears, daggers, and all sorts of things. Then Fagenbush arrived and would have cast a pall over the whole proceeding except Mother got one of her
I am so brilliantly clever
looks. She pulled her handbag out from under her arm and held it in front of her until she had everyone's attention.
"Now, I want you to try and guess what I have in here," she announced, eyes sparkling.
"Oh, Henrietta!" Father said. "We can't possibly guess. Put us out of our misery."
Mum smiled, opened her handbag, and slowly drew out a flat package. She laid it on her still-gloved palm and began unwrapping the paper.
Luckily, everyone's eyes were focused on the artifact so they didn't see me shiver violently, as if I'd just caught a ghastly chill. The truth of it was, whatever was in that package was cursed with something so powerful and vile it made me feel as if my whole body were covered in stinging ants.
When Mother lifted off the last bit of paper, she held a large scarab carved out of precious stone in her hand. It had gold wings curving out of its side and they were inlaid with thousands and thousands of jewels. A large round carnelian, the size of a cherry, sat at the head, and a smaller green stone decorated the bottom of the beetle.
"The Heart of Egypt," she announced. "Straight from Amenemhab's tomb."
The Boy Who Followed the Man Who Followed the Girl
I N ORDER TO RULE , every pharaoh had an enormous heart amulet made for them when they were crowned pharaoh. It is known as the Heart of Egypt, because the health and well-being of the pharaoh and Egypt were one and the same. It was destined to be placed on the pharaoh's body when he died. Thutmose's Heart of Egypt hadn't been in his tomb, and its location had been a major puzzle for years.
"Yes," Mother said, nearly bursting her seams in self-satisfaction. "It was in Amenemhab's tomb the whole time. Not Thutmose's."
As Mum handed the scarab to Father, I glanced at Fagenbush. His face was positively aglow with pure greed and excitement. Now, most people when they glow look lovely. Not Fagenbush. He looked even more frightening than ever, as if his glow came from the fires of the underworld itself.
Mum took the Heart of Egypt back from Father and wrapped it up once more. She returned it to her handbag and gave it a good solid pat. "We'll stash this inside in a bit, shall we, Alistair?"
"Absolutely."
The adults went back to poring over Mum's haul and frankly, it was hideously boring watching all the adults
ooh
and
aah
over Mum's finds while I was told to not touch and keep my hands off. Besides, all those curses gave me a dull, throbbing headache and made me feel twitchy.
I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly tea-time. With luck I could talk my parents into letting me pop over to a shop and pick up some food for a proper dinner.
The only hitch in that plan was that Fagenbush would get to see some of the new pieces before I did. He'd probably try to squirrel them away before I got back. Knowing him, he'd pinch the ones with the worst curses on them.
Then I had a brainstorm. "Oh, Mr. Bollingsworth?" I asked in my most casual voice, the one that always put Father on alert when he was
Larry Kramer, Reynolds Price