The Mummy Smugglers of Crumblin Castle

by Pamela Rushby

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - In which a relative departs and Hattie arrives

  Chapter 2 - In which Hattie gains two relations, and discovers an unusual occupation

  Chapter 3 - In which Hattie takes a dislike to the Ravens and learns about mummy unwrapping parties

  Chapter 4 - In which Hattie meets the kittens and is conducted around Crumblin Castle

  Chapter 5 - In which Hattie’s education begins, and Great-uncle Sisyphus imparts information about ancient Egyptian gods

  Chapter 6 - In which Hattie attends an unwrapping party and has a very bright idea

  Chapter 7 - In which Hattie is granted a request, and overhears something interesting

  Chapter 8 - In which Hattie takes part in an unwrapping party, and wonders whether Lady Belcannon’s house is haunted

  Chapter 9 - In which Hattie encounters someone in deep distress, and learns about ancient curses

  Chapter 10 - In which Hattie’s suspicions are aroused, and a journey is planned

  Chapter 11 - In which Hattie returns to Egypt, and conquers a pyramid

  Chapter 12 - In which the party meets Omar Shaydi and a dahabiya is selected

  Chapter 13 - In which the Hetepheres sets out and the sailors sing

  Chapter 14 - In which Hattie explores tombs and has disturbing thoughts

  Chapter 15 - In which crocodiles are encountered and a jinn is suspected

  Chapter 16 - In which the Hetepheres reaches Luxor and Hattie finds a friend

  Chapter 17 - In which Hattie speaks to Great-aunt Iphigenia and the Ravens speak to Hattie

  Chapter 18 - In which the fellahin farewell their pharaohs and the Ravens are deadly serious

  Chapter 19 - In which the party leaves Luxor and visits many temples

  Chapter 20 - In which the Cataract is conquered and the party meets the family of Shaydi

  Chapter 21 - In which Great-aunt Iphigenia acquires mummies and Hattie encounters Tayasetimu

  Chapter 22 - In which the mummies are successfully smuggled and Hattie investigates an attache case

  Chapter 23 - In which Hattie studies accounting and flees Crumblin Castle

  Chapter 24 - In which Hattie, Sekhmet and Tayasetimu are pursued and Sekhmet does something unexpected

  Author’s notes

  Mummy unwrapping parties

  Journeys up the Nile

  Modern technology

  Should human remains be displayed in museums: two points of view

  One more thing . . .

  Timeline

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgements

  It is usually a distressing experience to be informed that a close relative has been eaten by a crocodile.

  But when Miss Fractious, the headmistress of Hattie’s boarding school, sent for Hattie and told her she had some sad news concerning Hattie’s guardian, her uncle Sir Heracles Lambton, Hattie was able to remain tolerably composed.

  “Departed, I fear,” said Miss Fractious.

  Departed? Did Miss Fractious simply mean Uncle Heracles had gone off on his interminable travels again? Or – Hattie regarded the handkerchief Miss Fractious was holding ostentatiously at the ready – might she possibly mean something more permanent? In any case, the handkerchief would not be necessary.

  Because, although her Uncle Heracles had been her guardian for eleven of her twelve years, Hattie had barely known him. He had always been away, even during her school holidays. Travelling in some distant part of the world, stalking and shooting exotic animals and adding their stuffed heads to the extensive collection on the walls of Howling Hall, his large and gloomy house in the country.

  So Hattie was able to remain comparatively unmoved – even as Miss Fractious disclosed the grisly ending to Uncle Heracles’ big game hunting career. She felt sorry for Uncle Heracles, she supposed. It must be very unpleasant to be eaten by a crocodile, but it would have been equally unpleasant for the crocodile to have been added to Uncle Heracles’ collection, so Hattie felt no blame could be laid.

  Hattie had been her Uncle Heracles’ ward from the day she was discovered, a baby of twelve months, sitting on the sand outside the great temple of the pharaoh Hatshepsut in Egypt. Her parents, both archaeologists, had been exploring the little-known temple. They were nowhere to be seen. In fact, they were never seen again. So Hattie had been sent to Uncle Heracles at Howling Hall. And he in turn had sent her, the very second it was decently possible, to boarding school. Miss Fractious’ Boarding Establishment for Young Ladies.

  Hattie disliked Howling Hall. She had always felt the stuffed animals were watching her, glaring down at her disapprovingly as she tiptoed by, trying to avoid their notice. “Don’t stare at me!” she had often whispered to them. “I didn’t shoot you!”

  Hattie studied her boots as Miss Fractious talked on, wondering what would happen to Uncle Heracles’ collection of animal heads. Would it go to a museum, she wondered? The collection was a fine one, as far as collections of animals’ heads went, and certainly it would be a welcome change not to have the heads staring down at her when she went there for the school holidays.

  However, it appeared she would not be going there for the next holidays – or, indeed, ever again.

  “So, Hatshepsut –” Miss Fractious cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. Hattie, who had been named after the temple her parents had been exploring, knew that Miss Fractious thought her name was outlandish and greatly disliked using it. But Miss Fractious would never use a nickname, either, so she simply had to grit her teeth and say “Hatshepsut”.

  “So, Hatshepsut, your guardianship now passes to your late uncle’s own uncle,” Miss Fractious was saying. “Sir Sisyphus Lambton.”

  Hattie looked up, startled. “I thought Uncle Heracles and I were the last of the family,” she said. “I didn’t know Uncle Heracles had an uncle.”

  “It would seem he had,” Miss Fractious said. “And an aunt, in fact. Sir Sisyphus’ sister, the Honourable Iphigenia Lambton. But your guardian will now be Sir Sisyphus Lambton. He has sent word that you are to travel to his house. He lives there with his sister. It is in the country.”

  “You mean I won’t be going to Howling Hall for the holidays?” said Hattie. She hadn’t enjoyed her holidays, but it was all she’d ever known.

  “No. Nor will you be returning to school here. Sir Sisyphus intends to educate you himself.” Miss Fractious sniffed. “He appears to be very surprised that you have learned no Latin or Greek. Or, indeed, any ancient Egyptian.”

  Her expression told Hattie all she needed to know about Miss Fractious’ opinion of girls who learned Latin, Greek and ancient Egyptian.

  “So I won’t be coming back here?” Hattie wanted to get it quite clear.

  Miss Fractious’ expression softened a little. “We’ll be sorry to lose you, Hatshepsut, despite several, well, shall we say . . . incidents.”

  Hattie knew exactly what Miss Fractious was talking about. There had been that experiment with guinea pigs, and the blancmange incident, and then there was that unfortunate encounter with the horseless carriage . . . None of them had been entirely Hattie’s fault, of course, but still, she was always there. She had to admit hers had hardly been a stellar school career.

  They reflected on these incidents in silence for a moment.

  “So,” Miss Fractious briskly tidied some papers on her desk, “a solicitor from your great-uncle’s family firm will be coming to escort you to your great-uncle’s home. Tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow! Hattie thought. That didn’t give her much time to pack up her things.

  “Um, where is it?” she asked. “My great-uncle’s home, I mean.”<
br />
  “Somewhere near Ely, I believe,” Miss Fractious replied. “In the Fens.”

  “The Fens?” Hattie had never heard of it.

  Miss Fractious sighed. “If you had paid more attention in your geography classes . . .” She closed her eyes and recited briskly: “The Fens is an area of natural fresh- and salt-water marshes in the east of England, on the coast of the Wash. It comprises parts of Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire, Norfolk and Suffolk. Much of this area has been drained for agricultural purposes. It consists of small lakes and meres, rivers and drainage channels. A great proportion of it lies below sea level.”

  “Oh,” said Hattie.

  Miss Fractious opened her eyes. “The name of your great-uncle’s home is Crumblin Castle.”

  Crumblin Castle, Hattie thought. In an area of marshes, small lakes and meres, rivers and drainage channels. It didn’t sound much better than Howling Hall.

  The very young man from the Lambton family lawyer’s office looked as though he felt he was far too important to bother talking to a little girl, let alone escort one to her great-uncle’s house in the Fens. Every question that Hattie asked him was met with a fish-like stare and a “Yes”, a “No”, or an “I’m sure I couldn’t say”.

  Hattie gave up. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed out of the window.

  Once the train had steamed out of London, and the rows of small sooty houses had dwindled to the occasional village, the country grew flatter and flatter until there wasn’t a hill or rise in sight. Grey land stretched out and out to meet grey sky. Dry, rattling reeds edged waterways and small ponds. Mist rose from dark water, spilled over the banks and stretched out long, ghostly fingers that crawled across the land and through the reeds, as if searching for something to strangle. Hattie shivered.

  “It doesn’t appear to be very – friendly – country,” Hattie ventured. “Does it?”

  The very young man looked up from some papers he was studying. His very large Adam’s apple bobbed above his collar. “I’m sure I couldn’t say,” he said.

  Hattie subsided. Hours went by.

  On the horizon, a darker grey mass began to take shape through the mist. A large house? A cathedral? Perhaps a hill, or an island?

  “What’s that?” Hattie asked.

  The very young man sighed and looked up from his papers. “That? That’s Ely. We’re nearly there.” The tone of his voice seemed to say, “And thank heaven for that.”

  At the station in Ely, the very young man hired a horse and carriage and had Hattie’s trunk loaded onto it.

  Hattie shivered. She was cold and hungry, but it seemed there were no plans for a cup of tea. “How far is it now?” she asked.

  “How far?” the very young man asked the driver.

  The driver peered down at them. “Well now. Crumblin Castle. It’s a matter of an hour or so. Depending.”

  “An hour or so?” The young man appeared dismayed. “Can you get me back in time for the last train?”

  “Well, like I said, that’s depending.”

  “Depending on what?” asked Hattie.

  “Oh, depending on the state of the road, my maid. And the weather. Whether the mist comes in.” He looked up at the low, drifting grey sky. “Comes in any more, that is. And whether there’s any, well, obstructions like, on the road.”

  Hattie wanted to ask what sort of obstructions, but the very young man was extremely anxious to be gone. He bundled her into the carriage then climbed in himself. “Be off then!” he called to the driver. “I’m expected to return on that last train.”

  “Happen you will,” the driver reassured him. “Depending, like.”

  The carriage moved down the hill that Ely stood on and the mist closed over them as if they were disappearing under the sea. Hattie looked back and saw that the buildings and the cathedral had been swallowed up. She didn’t like the way they disappeared so completely, so she looked ahead instead. But that was almost worse. She could see the road, for a little way, and reeds and water beside the carriage, but nothing else. They seemed to be travelling in a little bubble of light grey that moved slowly through the darker grey around them. She swallowed, and trusted greatly that the driver knew where he was going.

  Almost as if he had heard her, a reassuring voice called down to her. “Don’t you worry, now. I knows my way to Crumblin Castle right enough.”

  In a very short time, Hattie was hoping devoutly that he did. Signs appeared at the sides of the road: WARNING: BOTTOMLESS BOG. DANGER: STAY STRICTLY ON ROAD. Then, BEWARE: DEEP MUD.

  The very young man stared out at the signs, wide-eyed. Then, almost as if in self-defence, he pulled out his papers and began studying them again.

  Hattie watched apprehensively for more signs. What if the next one said END OF ROAD? Or ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE.

  Beyond the signs, in the half-visible water lurking under the mist, Hattie thought she saw something moving. She pushed her face up against the window. Her breath misted the glass and she swiped at it with her glove. And, for a moment, slithering and rolling in the water, she saw – no, it couldn’t be. Not – a crocodile? Surely not a crocodile! And that thing sluggishly wallowing just beyond it, that couldn’t be a hippopotamus!

  “Look!” Hattie gasped.

  The very young man looked up. “What?”

  “There! In the water!”

  The very young man rose to his feet and peered out, but there was nothing there. Only ripples. And small waves, sucking sulkily at the bank.

  “What? What is it?”

  Hattie gulped. “I thought I saw –”

  The driver’s voice broke in. “Aye, you see some right strange old things around Crumblin Castle at times, that you do. But it’s well enough, as long as they don’t come out on the road. Obstructions they can cause then. Like I said. But looks like we’re set fair enough today.”

  Hattie sat down with a bump. Things were not, she felt, going well. She had hoped, when she had heard she had a great-uncle and a great-aunt – well, she wasn’t quite sure just what she had hoped.

  Hattie hadn’t been particularly happy at Howling Hall, or at school. She’d always felt solitary, alone. Lonely. There had been no one to talk to at Howling Hall. Uncle Heracles’ housekeeper had fed her, and made sure her outgrown petticoats and drawers and dresses were replaced, but Hattie had always felt she was rather an interruption to the household routine. A nuisance.

  And while the girls at school had been pleasant enough, Hattie had never had a particular friend. They all had families. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, cousins, and they had talked about them. She had felt left out. Different. It wasn’t very nice, being the last of a family.

  She’d hoped . . .

  “Crumblin Castle!” called the driver.

  Hattie swiped her glove across the misted window again. Then, impatiently, she slammed the window down and leaned out into the chill, clammy mist.

  “I say!” bleated the very young man, drawing his scarf around his neck. Hattie ignored him.

  Beside the road, a battered sign pointed the way to CRUMBL CAST with a crooked finger. Below the broken letters was a drawing of an all-seeing eye.

  Egyptian, thought Hattie. That’s an Egyptian eye. Then, surprised, she wondered how she knew that. There’d been little Egyptian history taught in Miss Fractious’ Boarding Establishment for Young Ladies.

  But she didn’t wonder for long. Ahead, she saw a darker shape taking form in the mist. Just as the city of Ely had done, the mass grew darker as they drew closer, and rose high above the water. It was a castle. Large. Partly ruined. Many-towered, with impossibly slim spires and turrets piercing the mist.

  The driver pulled the carriage up just short of a wooden bridge and they all gazed up at the castle. As they stared, one of the many slim towers suddenly and silently crumbled into ruins. Tiles and stones spiralled downwards, and then there was a muffled splash as the tower disappeared into unseen water.

  The very you
ng man swallowed. “My, uh, oh my word.”

  The driver grunted. “Not in the best repair, I’ll grant you. But there it is, maid. You’re here. Crumblin Castle. Just like you wanted.”

  Hattie felt she’d never wanted anything less in her life. Mist. Black water. Crocodiles. Hippopotamuses. (Or was it hippopotami?) And a castle in ruins. Oh dear.

  For a moment, she felt like crying. Then she set her jaw and straightened her spine. She was descended from a long line of archaeologists, adventurers and big game hunters, she reminded herself. She was named after a strong and brave Egyptian pharaoh queen. She was a Lambton! She could cope with Crumblin Castle.

  Well, there was no choice really, was there? She’d have to.

  The carriage rolled across the wooden bridge with a crack and a shudder, then continued through a stone arch and tunnel into a wide courtyard. The driver climbed down and began to unload Hattie’s trunk. The very young man stepped out and stared around in disbelief.

  “This is it?” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly.

  “It is,” the driver said. “You’ll need to be helping the little maid out if you’re going to catch that train you’re wanting.”

  “Yes, indeed. My train.” The very young man clearly couldn’t get away fast enough. He offered Hattie his hand and she stepped out onto the cobbles.

  Behind her, through the stone arch, reeds clustered close around the castle. They rattled in the wind like dry bones. It was like the sound skeletons might make if they were dancing, Hattie thought with a shiver. That was not a pleasant idea. Hattie quickly turned her back on the arch.

  A massive wooden door was set into the wall across the courtyard, but no one was doing anything about opening it. The very young man was busy helping the driver with the trunk – all the quicker to get away, Hattie thought. The courtyard was cold and damp and Hattie shivered. It did not feel as if the castle was welcoming her. Well, if no one came, she would just have to let herself in. She waited for a moment, then, when no one approached the door, she stepped up to it herself.

  In the middle of the door was a solid metal knocker in the shape, again, of an all-seeing eye. An Egyptian eye. Hattie reached up, seized it, and banged it decisively.