Curse of the Kings Page 4

  The drawing room was the most normal room, but even that had an Oriental look. There were several Chinese vases and images which Sir Edward had picked up in China. There were some beautiful pictures on the walls—delicate and in pastel shades; there was a big cabinet in which were Chinese figures—there were dragons and fat Buddhas with sly sleepy looks and thin ones sitting with apparent comfort in a position which I had tried unsuccessfully to copy; there were ladies with inscrutable faces and mandarins with cruel ones. But the grand piano gave the place an air of normality and it was on this that we strummed out our lessons under the tuition of Grey Tabby who was as enigmatical as one of the Chinese ladies in the cabinet.

  Whenever I had an opportunity I would peep into other rooms forcing Hadrian to look with me. He was reluctant but he was afraid not to do as I wished because he knew that I would call him a coward if he refused.

  We had been studying with Evan Callum some of the lore of old Egypt and I was greatly fascinated. He gave us an account of some recent discoveries there in which Sir Edward Travers had been involved; and then he went on to give us a little insight into the history of that country.

  When I listened to Evan Callum I would be transported out of the schoolroom into the temples of the gods. I listened avidly to the story of the self-begotten god Ra—often known as Amen Ra; and his son Osiris who with Isis begot the great god Horus. He showed us pictures of the masks which priests wore during religious ceremonies and told us that each god was represented by one of the masks.

  "The idea being," he explained, "that the great gods of the Egyptians possessed all the strengths and virtues of men, but in addition they had one attribute of an animal; and this animal was their particular sign. Horus was the hawk because his eyes saw all and quickly." I pored over the pictures he showed us. I was an apt pupil.

  But I think what interested me most were the accounts of burials when the bodies of the important dead were embalmed and put in their tombs and there left to rest for thousands of years. With them would often be buried their servants who might have been killed merely that they might accompany them and remain their servants in the new life as in the old. Treasure was stored in their tombs that they might not suffer poverty in the future.

  "This custom, of course," Evan explained to us, "has led to many of the tombs being robbed. Throughout the centuries daring men have plundered them . . . daring indeed for it is said that the Curse of the Pharaohs descends on those who disturb their eternal rest."

  I was very interested to hear how it was possible to keep a person's body for centuries. "The embalming process," Evan explained, "is one which was perfected three thousand years before the birth of Christ. It was a secret and no one has ever really discovered how the ancient Egyptians did it so expertly."

  It was absorbing. There were books with pictures. I was never tired of talking of this fascinating subject; I wanted to ignore other lessons for the sake of going on with Evan.

  Sabina said she had seen a mummy. They had had one at Giza once.

  Evan talked to her about it and I was a little envious that Sabina who had not taken particular note of it should have had the opportunity which I should have made such use of.

  "It was in a sort of coffin," said Sabina.

  "A sarcophagus," supplied Evan.

  "We've still got it, I believe," said Sabina. "But the mummy has gone." She shuddered. "I'm glad. I didn't like it. It was horrible."

  "It was interesting," I cried. "Just imagine. It was somebody who had actually lived thousands of years ago!"

  I couldn't get the thought of it out of my mind and a few days later when we went for our music lesson I decided that I was going to see it. Theodosia was at the piano. She was better than the rest of us and Tabby gave us extra tuition.

  I said: "Now is the time." And Sabina led us to that strange room. This was the one, of course, which I had heard about, the room which gave the servants "the creeps" and which they wouldn't enter alone.

  I saw the sarcophagus at once. It stood in a corner of the room; it was like a stone trough. Along the top of it were rows of hieroglyphs.

  I knelt down and examined them.

  "My father is trying to decipher them," explained Sabina. "That's why it's here. Later it will go to some museum."

  I touched it wonderingly. "Just imagine . . . thousands of years ago people made these signs and someone was embalmed and laid inside there. Don't you think that's wonderful? Oh, how I wish they'd left the mummy!"

  "You can see them in the British Museum. It's just like someone done up with a lot of bandages."

  I stood up and looked about the room. The walls of one side were lined with books. I looked at their bindings. Many were in languages I could not understand.

  I said: "There's a strange feeling in this room. Are you aware of it?"

  "No," said Sabina. "You're trying to frighten us."

  "It's because it's dark," said Hadrian. "It's the tree outside the window."

  "Listen," I said.

  "It's the wind," said Sabina scornfully. "And come on. We mustn't be found in here."

  She was relieved when she shut the door behind us. But I couldn't forget that room.

  For the next few days I looked up everything I could find about ancient burials. The others were impatient with me because when I had an idea I was obsessed by it and would talk of nothing else. Sabina was very impatient and

  Theodosia had begun to agree with everything Sabina said.

  She declared she was tired of all this talk about mummies. They were nothing but dead people anyway. She had heard that if they were exposed to the air and the wrappings removed they all crumpled to dust. Why get excited about a lot of dust?

  "But they were real people once. Let's go and look at the sarcophagus again."

  "No," wailed Sabina. "And this is my house, so if you go without me you're trespassing."

  "I believe you're afraid of that room," I declared.

  She indignantly denied this.

  I became more and more obsessed and wanted to know exactly what it felt like to be embalmed and laid to rest in a sarcophagus. I forced Hadrian to join me and together we found some old sheets and one of these we cut into strips, and when we all went to Giza House for our music lesson Hadrian and I contrived to have ours first and then we went into the garden where we had hidden our sheets and bandages in an old summerhouse. We retrieved them and together we went into the room in which was the sarcophagus. I put the sheet over my head—having cut holes in it for my eyes—and made Hadrian bind me up with the bandages. I scrambled into the sarcophagus and lay there.

  My only excuse is that I was young and thoughtless. It just seemed a tremendous joke—and an exciting one too. I thought I was very brave and bold to lie in that sarcophagus alone in the room for I had twinges of doubt and felt that my boldness might arouse at any moment the wrath of the gods.

  It seemed a long time before the door opened. Sabina said: "Oh, why do you want to keep looking at it . . ." And I knew Hadrian had brought them in as we had arranged.

  Then they saw me. There was a bloodcurdling scream. I tried to scramble out of the trough-like receptacle which smelled peculiar and was so cold. It was the worst thing that I could have done for Theodosia, seeing this thing rising from the dead, as she believed, began to scream.

  I heard Hadrian shout: "It's only Judith."

  I saw Sabina was as white as the sheet which was wrapped round me; and then Theodosia slid to the floor in a faint.

  "It's all right, Theodosia," I cried. "It's Judith. It's not a real mummy."

  "I believe she's dead," said Sabina. "You've killed her."

  "Theodosia!" I wailed. "You're not dead. People can't die like that."

  Then I saw the stranger standing in the doorway. He was tall, and so different from anyone I had ever seen before that for the moment I thought he was one of the gods come for vengeance. He looked angry enough.

  He stared at me. What a sight I must have looke
d—my bandages hanging about me, the sheet still over my head.

  From me he looked to Theodosia. "Good God," he said and picked her up.

  "Judith dressed up as a mummy," squealed Sabina. "It's frightened Theodosia."

  "How utterly stupid!" he said, giving me such a look of contempt that I was glad of the sheet to cover my shame.

  "Is she dead, Tybalt?" went on Sabina.

  He did not answer; he walked out of the room with Theodosia in his arms.

  I scrambled out of the bandages and sheet and rolled them into a bundle.

  Sabina came running back into the room.

  "They're all fussing round Theodosia," she informed us, and added rather gleefully: "They're all angry with you two."

  "It was my idea," I said, "wasn't it, Hadrian?"

  Hadrian agreed that it was.

  "It's nothing to be proud of," said Sabina severely. "You might have killed her."

  "She's all right?" I said anxiously.

  "She's sitting up now, but she looks pale and she's gasping."

  "She was only a bit frightened," I said.

  "People can die of fright."

  "Well, she isn't going to."

  Tybalt came into the room. He still looked angry.

  "What on earth did you think you two were doing?"

  I looked at Hadrian who waited as usual for me to speak. "I was only being a mummy," I said.

  "Aren't you a little old for such tricks?"

  I felt small and bitterly humiliated.

  "You didn't think, I suppose, of the effect this might have on those who were not in the joke?"

  "No," I said, "I didn't think."

  "It's quite a good habit. I should try it sometime."

  If anyone else had said that to me I should have been ready with a pert answer. But he was different . . . right from the beginning I knew it.

  He had turned to Hadrian. "And what have you to say?"

  "Only the same as Judith. We didn't mean to hurt her."

  "You've behaved very stupidly," he said; and turned and left us.

  "So that's the great Tybalt!" said Hadrian waiting until he was out of earshot.

  "Yes," I said, "the great Tybalt!"

  "You said he stooped and wore glasses."

  "Well, I was wrong. He doesn't. We'd better go now."

  I heard Tybalt's voice as we went down the stairs.

  "Who is that insolent girl?"

  He was referring to me of course.

  Sabina joined us in the hall. "Theodosia is to go back in the carriage," she said. "You two are to walk back. There's going to be trouble." She seemed rather pleased about it.

  There was trouble. Miss Graham was waiting for us in the schoolroom.

  She looked worried—but then she often did. She was constantly afraid, I realized later, that she would be blamed and dismissed.

  "Young Mr. Travers came over in the carriage, with Theodosia," she said. "He has told Sir Ralph all about your wickedness. You are both going to be severely punished. Theodosia has gone to bed. Her ladyship is most anxious and has sent for the doctor. Theodosia is not very strong."

  I couldn't help feeling that Theodosia was making the most of the occasion. After all what was she worried about? She knew now that I had been the mummy.

  We went into the library, that room where three of the walls were lined with books and the other was almost all window—large, mullion, window-seated, and with heavy dark green curtains. It was a somewhat oppressive room because so many objects seemed to be huddled together under the enormous glass chandelier. There were carved wooden tables from India and figures with similar carving. Chinese vases and an ornate Louis Quinze table supported by gilded cherubs. Sir Ralph had had this assortment of treasures brought to him from all parts of the world and had gathered them together here irrespective of their suitability. All this I noticed later. At this time I was aware only of the two men in the room. Sir Ralph and Tybalt.

  "What is all this, eh?" demanded Sir Ralph.

  Hadrian always seemed to be struck dumb in the presence of his uncle so it was up to me to speak. I tried to explain.

  "No right to be in that room! No right to play such silly tricks. You're going to be punished for this. And you won't like it."

  I did not want Tybalt to see that I was afraid. I was thinking of the worst punishment that could befall me. No more lessons with Evan Callum.

  "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" Sir Ralph was glaring at Hadrian.

  "We only . . . pretended."

  "Speak up!"

  "It was my idea," I said.

  "Let the boy speak for himself, if he can."

  "We ... we thought it would be a good idea for Judith to dress up . . ."

  Sir Ralph made an impatient noise. Then he turned to me. "So you were the ring leader, eh?"

  I nodded and I was suddenly relieved because I was sure I saw his chin move.

  "All right," he said. "You'll see what happens to people who play such tricks. You go back to the rectory now and you'll see what's in store for you." Then to Hadrian, "And you, sir. You go to your room. You're going to have the whipping of your life because I'm going to administer it myself. Get out."

  Poor Hadrian! It was so humiliating—and in front of Tybalt too!

  Hadrian was severely beaten which at sixteen was hard to endure.

  When I arrived back at the rectory it was to find Dorcas and Alison very disturbed, as they had been already informed of my sinful folly.

  "Why Judith, what if Sir Ralph had refused to have you at Keverall Court again?"

  "Has he?" I asked anxiously.

  "No, but orders are that you are to be punished and we daren't go against that."

  The Reverend James had retired to his study muttering something about pressure of work. This was trouble and he was going to be out of it.

  "Well," I demanded, "what are they going to do to me?"

  "You are to go to your room and read a book which Mr. Callum has sent for you. You are to write an essay on its contents and to have nothing but bread and water until the task is completed. You are to do this if you stay in your room for a week."

  It was no real punishment for me. Dear Evan! The book he chose for me was The Dynasties of Ancient Egypt which fascinated me; and our cook at the rectory in the safety of her kitchen declared that she was not taking orders from Keverall Court; nor was she having me on bread and water. The next thing, she prophesied, would be Dr. Gunwen's brougham at the door and nobody was going to make her starve little children. I was amused that I who had often been called a limb of Satan should have suddenly become a little child. However during that period some of my favorite foods were smuggled in to me. There was a hot steamy pasty I remember, and one of her special miniature squab pies.

  I had quite a pleasant two days for my task was finished in record time; and I learned later from Evan that Sir Ralph, far from expressing his disapproval of my exploit, was rather pleased about it.

  We were growing up and changes came, but so gradually that one scarcely noticed them.

  Tybalt was frequently at Giza House. One of my favorite dreams at that time was that I made a great discovery. This varied. Sometimes I dug up an object of inestimable value; at others I found some tremendous significance in the hieroglyphs about the sarcophagus at Giza House, and this discovery of mine so shook the archaeological world that Tybalt was overcome with admiration. He asked me to marry him and we went off to Egypt together where for the rest of our lives we lived happily ever after piling up discovery after discovery, so that we became famous. "I owe it all to you," said Tybalt, at the end of the dream.

  The truth was that he scarcely noticed me, and I believed that if ever he thought of me it was as the silly girl who had dressed up as a mummy and frightened Theodosia.

  It was different with Theodosia. Instead of despising her for fainting he seemed to like her for it. She had opportunities for knowing him which were denied me. After lessons were over I went back to
the rectory while she, now that she was growing up, joined the family at dinner and the guests were often Tybalt and his father.

  Hadrian went off to the university to study archaeology, which was his uncle's choice rather than his. Hadrian had confided to me that he was dependent on his uncle, for his parents were in meager circumstances. His father—Sir Ralph's brother—had married without the family's consent. As Hadrian was the eldest of four brothers and Sir Ralph, having no son of his own had offered to take him and educate him—so Sir Ralph had to be placated.

  "You're lucky," I said. "Wouldn't I like to go and study archaeology."

  "You were always mad about it."

  "It's something to be mad about."

  I missed having Hadrian to order around. He was so meek; he had always done what I wanted.

  Then Evan Callum ceased to come to teach because he had graduated and had taken a post in one of the universities. Miss Graham and Oliver Shrimpton continued to teach us and we still had music lessons with Tabitha Grey; but the changes were setting in.

  Dorcas tried to teach me a few of what she called "home crafts" which meant trying to impart a light touch with pastry and showing me how to make bread and preserves. I was not really very good at that.

  "You'll need it one day," she said, "when you have a home of your own. Do you realize you're nearly eighteen, Judith. Why some girls are married at that age."

  When she said that there was a little frown on her brow. I believed that she and Alison worried a little about my future. I knew that they hoped I would many—and I knew whom.

  We all liked Oliver Shrimpton. He was pleasant, not exactly ambitious but he had an enthusiasm for his work. He was an asset in the parish and for the last two or three years since the Reverend James seemed to get more and more easily tired he had—as Dorcas and Alison admitted—practically carried the parish on his own shoulders. He got on well with the old ladies and the not-so-old ones liked him very much. There were several spinsters who couldn't do enough in church activities and I guessed their enthusiasm had something to do with Oliver.

  He and I had always been good friends. I had not shone at the subjects he had taught but living under the same roof with him for so long I regarded him as a kind of brother. I sometimes wondered though if I had never seen Tybalt I might have been reconciled to the idea of marrying him and going on in the rectory which had been my home all my life —for it was a foregone conclusion that when the Reverend James retired or died, Oliver would come into the living.