The Mummy Smugglers of Crumblin Castle

by Pamela Rushby

  “How do you do it?” Hattie was fascinated. “The parties, I mean?”

  Edwina Raven glanced at Great-aunt Iphigenia. “Allow me to explain?” At Iphigenia’s nod, she turned to Hattie. “Private individuals might decide to hold a mummy unwrapping as part of a social event, a party,” she said. “They will write to your great-aunt – she is well known in this field – and request a demonstration. Edgar and I manage the bookings and the financial details. And we ensure a supply of mummies to be unwrapped.”

  “That seems a most responsible job,” said Hattie politely. “How did you come to be doing it?”

  There was a brief silence. The Ravens glanced at each other, and Edgar inclined his head slightly. Edwina turned to Hattie. “Our dear father worked in Egypt,” she said. “He and Sir Sisyphus were both engaged in attempting to translate a certain important inscription. Our father worked on it for years. He had not yet succeeded, though he was convinced he was very close, when Sir Sisyphus successfully completed the translation. It was –” a long pause “– a triumph for Sir Sisyphus.” Edwina Raven cast her eyes down. “Our father was, of course, delighted for his good friend. Quite delighted. The fame that came to Sir Sisyphus, the prizes that he was awarded. But then our father died soon afterwards. And sadly, we were impoverished. No money, no home. Sir Sisyphus and Miss Lambton saw our plight, and offered us these positions. We were . . . most grateful.”

  “We will be forever indebted,” said Edgar Raven.

  “Forever,” Edwina Raven agreed.

  Hattie regarded them. They certainly appeared to be grateful, but there was something about the way they said the words . . .

  “I see,” she said.

  “I couldn’t do without them,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia brightly. “So efficient. So hard working!” She beamed at the Ravens, who bowed their heads modestly.

  Sekhmet had come into the room, casting an eye on the tea trays.

  “Yes, I think we’ve quite finished, thank you, Sekhmet,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “Hatshepsut – or may we call you Hattie? Hatshepsut is a beautiful and ancient name, but such a mouthful, don’t you think?” She smiled. “The Egyptians were never ones for choosing a short name where a long one would do. Hattie, perhaps you’d help load the trays onto the dumb waiter?”

  Hattie jumped up and obeyed, forgetting all about the Ravens as she found herself wondering just what happened to the trays when they reached the kitchen. Did Sekhmet unload them and wash up? Did the kittens help? How would they manage? She badly wanted to ask, but thought such curiosity might not be welcomed.

  “Tomorrow,” Great-aunt Iphigenia said to Hattie, “I’ll show you the room in the castle where the mummies are stored until it’s time for them to be unwrapped.”

  Hattie happened to be looking at Sekhmet at the time, and distinctly saw her golden eyes flash, and what little fur the cat had on her body stand bolt upright for a moment. That was interesting. So, Sekhmet doesn’t like the mummy room, thought Hattie. Or perhaps she doesn’t like the mummies. She wondered why.

  “I’d love to see the mummy room,” she said eagerly to Great-aunt Iphigenia. “And could I see what’s in some of those big cabinets in the hall, too? They look interesting.”

  “The Cabinets of Curiosities? Some of them might be, perhaps,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia vaguely. “They’re full of the things Lambtons have been bringing back from their travels and excavations over many years. Pots, manuscripts, jewellery. I hardly know what’s in most of them. They’ve certainly never been fully catalogued. You’re welcome to explore them, though I fear there’s nothing of value. If there had been, we’d certainly have sold it and mended another bit of the roof.”

  Interesting as all this was, Hattie’s long and tiring day had suddenly caught up with her. An enormous yawn started in her chest, closed her ears and eyes and escaped through the fingers she’d hastily clapped to her mouth.

  Great-aunt Iphigenia and Great-uncle Sisyphus smiled. “Now, perhaps it’s time you went to bed. Sekhmet will show you to your room. We’ve put your trunk up in one of the little towers, we thought you’d like that. If you need anything, just ask Sekhmet. Goodnight, my dear.”

  “Goodnight.” Hattie bobbed curtseys all around the room. “Great-uncle Sisyphus. Great-aunt Iphigenia. Miss Edwina. Mr Edgar. Good night.”

  She followed Sekhmet out of the cosy room, across the chill hall and up a flight of narrow, spiral stone stairs behind another wooden door. The cold air grew warmer as they climbed, and Hattie wondered why. When Sekhmet pushed open another wooden door at the top of the stone staircase, she found her answer. A bright fire burned in this room, too. It was an enchanting, completely round room. A pointed window had a soft armchair drawn up to it, presumably so someone could sit and admire the view. A small four-poster bed stood near a wardrobe and a washstand with a china jug and bowl patterned with poppies. The room seemed to call her in, enfold her, warm her and welcome her.

  “Oh,” said Hattie. “Oh.”

  It was a lovely room. A delightful room. Just the room she’d always wanted - only she hadn’t known it.

  “Oh Sekhmet,” breathed Hattie. “It’s perfect!”

  Sekhmet purred. She nodded her head gently. Hattie was sure it meant goodnight, so she said, “Goodnight, Sekhmet,” and bobbed another curtsey.

  Then she was alone in her own, perfect room.

  Her nightdress had been laid out on the bed – how had Sekhmet managed that? The water in the poppy jug was warm. Not at all like at school, where the water was always cold, and in winter had a film of ice. How had Sekhmet –? It was too puzzling to even think about. And Hattie was so very, very tired.

  She undressed, pulled on her nightdress and got into bed. She gazed up at the round ceiling for a moment, vaguely hoping that her room was in one of the more stable of the towers.

  Her last thought was that Crumblin Castle was going to be a very interesting place to live.

  And that at last, she may have found a home.

  And a family.

  And then she was asleep.

  When Hattie woke the next morning, she turned to the window to see if the day was any brighter. Mist drifted past, long trailing fingers of white and grey slithering across the glass and gathering at the edges as if they’d like to get in. Hattie sighed, and wondered if it was always misty around Crumblin Castle.

  She turned back to look at the room. The fire had been built up and was snapping and whispering cheerfully, as if telling happy secrets to itself. The poppy-printed jug was steaming gently, suggesting there was fresh, hot water in it. One of Hattie’s dresses, several petticoats and a fresh pinafore had been laid out on a chair.

  Opening the wardrobe, Hattie found that her clothes had been stored neatly on hangers and in drawers. Her boots, shoes and slippers stood in a row on the wardrobe floor. She hadn’t heard a thing. Had Sekhmet . . . surely not . . . but then, who had?

  Hattie wasn’t sure of the time, but it seemed to be early. Breakfast time? Certainly she was hungry again. She washed and dressed quickly, tied back her hair, and opened the door.

  Everything was quiet as Hattie descended the twisting spiral staircase from her room. Then, from the great hall below, she began to hear a noise. Patter, patter, patter, swish. Patter, patter, patter, swish. Small squeaks, as if someone, or something, was having fun. She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs quietly.

  In the great hall, the kittens were polishing the stone floor. They had laid out polishing cloths, then stood back, took a run – patter, patter, patter – and then swish! – the cloth slid along the floor with an excited, squeaking kitten riding on it.

  Hattie grinned. It looked a lot more fun than the mops and cloths the maids at Miss Fractious’ Boarding Establishment for Young Ladies had used, and the result appeared to be just as effective.

  One kitten slid a little further than the others had done, and landed at Hattie’s feet. It looked up and squeaked in alarm, and all the other kittens froze
, poised for flight.

  “Oh, don’t go!” Hattie cried. “Please don’t go! Come here, come to me, come on, puss, puss, kitty, kitty . . .” She dropped to her knees. The kittens regarded her with watchful, golden eyes and glanced at each other. Then one padded tentatively forward. And another. Hattie held out her hands. The kittens sniffed cautiously and then, deciding she was a friend, rubbed their little round heads on her hands.

  In seconds, Hattie was covered with kittens: on her lap, on her shoulders, round her neck. They were purring and rubbing their heads on her, and patting at her with soft paws. Hattie laughed, and hugged, and stroked.

  “Mroar!” said something.

  Hattie looked up. Sekhmet was standing in front of them.

  “Mroar!” she said again, and batted the nearest kitten with a gentle paw. She seemed amused, rather than annoyed, but the kittens slid off Hattie and went obediently back to their polishing.

  Sekhmet nodded to Hattie.

  “Come this way?” Hattie guessed.

  Sekhmet led her to a different room, again leading off the great hall. It was a breakfast room with a table, chairs, and a sideboard covered with dishes. Great-uncle Sisyphus, Great-aunt Iphigenia and the Ravens were already at the table. There was a delicious aroma of bacon, toast and coffee. Hattie sniffed in appreciation.

  “Good morning, Hattie!” Great-uncle Sisyphus and Great-aunt Iphigenia smiled warmly and stretched out welcoming hands. The Ravens were less effusive. Hattie wished everyone good morning and bobbed curtseys all round. She smiled at Great-aunt Iphigenia and Great-uncle Sisyphus, then turned her shoulder slightly to the Ravens. She could be even less effusive than them, she decided.

  Great-uncle Sisyphus gestured to the sideboard. “Help yourself, my dear. I hope you find something you like.”

  There was little chance of going hungry, Hattie discovered. There was bacon, eggs and sausages. Kippers and devilled kidneys. A pot of porridge. Toast, honey and jam. Tea and coffee. She helped herself and settled down at the table with a delighted sigh.

  “I have a few things to do,” Great-aunt Iphigenia said, pouring a second cup of tea. She glanced at a watch pinned to her collar. “But at, say, ten o’clock, Hattie, I should be free to show you around the castle.”

  “Yes, yes please!” said Hattie. She couldn’t wait to see more of the place she hoped so much would be her new home.

  Great-aunt Iphigenia turned to the Ravens. “Will we be finished with our business by ten?”

  “Certainly,” said Edgar Raven. “There are only a few contracts to sign; some dates to settle for future parties.”

  “No financial matters?” asked Great-aunt Iphigenia.

  “No indeed,” said Edwina Raven. “We can take care of that. No need for you to trouble yourself, Miss Lambton. No need at all.”

  “Excellent. Well, then.” Great-aunt Iphigenia rose to her feet. “I’ll see you at ten o’clock, Hattie. We’ll start in the great hall.”

  “And in the meantime,” said Great-uncle Sisyphus, “Hattie and I will discuss the subject of her education.”

  This was less welcome. Hattie would have greatly preferred an extended exploration of Crumblin Castle to being educated. If the Ravens had not claimed Great-aunt Iphigenia’s attention, Hattie thought resentfully, the subject of her education might have been avoided for a little longer. It did not endear them to her.

  When Hattie entered the great hall at ten o’clock, Great-aunt Iphigenia was waiting for her. So was Sekhmet. And so were the Ravens. Hattie was sorry to see the Ravens there. For no reason that she could reasonably account for, they made her uneasy. Whenever they were around she felt a sort of prickling between her shoulder blades, as if four dark eyes were constantly observing her. And she was sure they were not pleased with what they saw. Well, she had no obligation to like them either.

  But surely that was nonsense, she told herself firmly. The worst the Ravens had done to her was to express a decided preference for girls being educated at boarding schools. And Great-uncle Sisyphus had soon put a stop to that idea.

  Great-aunt Iphigenia smiled at Hattie. “Have you finished your discussion with Sisyphus, my dear?”

  “Yes,” said Hattie. “He thinks I should study Latin, Greek and Egyptian hieroglyphs.”

  The Ravens glanced at each other. “Arithmetic is important, too,” said Edgar Raven. “If Sir Sisyphus is unable to teach that, perhaps a good school . . .” He paused meaningfully.

  Great-aunt Iphigenia laughed. “Of course arithmetic is important! And of course you would think so, Edgar. After all, you look after the accounts! But I’m sure Sisyphus isn’t going to neglect arithmetic, Hattie?”

  “We will be studying arithmetic,” said Hattie. “And history. And literature. But Great-uncle Sisyphus thinks the ancient languages are very important too.” She sighed a little. It seemed a great many subjects. But she was determined to study hard and do well, very well, at all of them. If not, perhaps she would be sent away to school, after all. And she wanted so badly to stay at Crumblin Castle.

  “Well, let’s begin with a little history now then,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “Hattie, have you noticed the battle standards in the hall?”

  Hattie hadn’t. The great hall was very high, and shadows lurked in the far away, massive beams that supported it. Hattie had always hurried through the hall, on her way to one of the smaller, cosier rooms. Now she looked up.

  Flags hung from the stone walls. Some appeared to be quite new, and were brightly coloured, but some were so ancient that all that remained was the weave of the fabric that they had been embroidered on, grey and ghostly as cobwebs.

  “They look very old,” said Hattie.

  “Very, very old, some of them,” agreed Great-aunt Iphigenia. “They are battle standards and banners from battles that Lambtons fought in, many years ago. The weapons are from those battles, too.”

  Hattie had noticed the weapons. She couldn’t avoid seeing them. There were spears, axes, swords, daggers, arrows, maces and chains hanging on the walls, arranged in patterns like stars or circles. They looked cruel and fearsome.

  “Were all Lambtons soldiers?” asked Hattie.

  “Indeed, no. Many were, of course. But some were explorers, and adventurers and archaeologists. Big game hunters and travellers and merchants. There’s a story that at least one was a pirate. And some, like Sisyphus, were scholars. Writers and historians.” Great-aunt Iphigenia looked at Hattie speculatively. “I wonder which you’ll be.”

  Not a big game hunter, Hattie thought. And probably not a pirate, enticing as the idea sounded. “Exploring sounds exciting,” she ventured.

  “Indeed it would be,” agreed Great-aunt Iphigenia. “But there’s plenty of time to make your mind up about that. Let’s move on and explore the castle.”

  They went up the great stone steps at the end of the hall. At the top, running the length of the hall, was a long gallery. Windows looked out onto drifting mist. All along the opposite wall, pure white busts of long-gone Lambtons gazed from sightless eyes.

  “This is the long gallery,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “A good place for exercise on rainy days.” She smiled suddenly. “Sisyphus and I used to roller skate along it, as children. There were a good many days when we had to stay indoors. The mist, you know . . .”

  Hattie looked out one of the windows. The mist didn’t appear to be quite as thick as it had been. Through it she could see vague outlines of reed beds and channels of water. “It seems to be clearing,” she said. She peered out. What was out there? She would love to see!

  “Is it? Then come, we’ll go up to the ramparts at once so you can see the view. Heaven knows when it will clear again!”

  Great-aunt Iphigenia urged everyone towards more stairs, at the end of the gallery. These stairs twisted their way up a tower. At the top, a door opened onto a flat roof area and ramparts.

  The mist had cleared. Sunshine – weak and watery, but still sunshine – fell on a wide view of whispering r
eed beds and channels of water.

  “How much land belongs to the castle?” Hattie asked.

  “All you can see,” Great-aunt Iphigenia replied.

  “Really? It’s all Lambton land?”

  “Yes, it all belongs with the castle.”

  The land was flat, and stretched as far as Hattie could see in all directions. The only things that stood out from the unremitting flatness of it all were an occasional stunted tree, and the faraway tower of a church.

  “Is there a village there?” asked Hattie.

  “Yes,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “Otterbury. It’s not very big.”

  “What do the people who live there do?” Hattie asked. They were clearly not farmers. There was no land in the marshes suitable for farming.

  “They are mostly eel fishers. Some of them cut reeds and withies – willow twigs – and weave traps, to catch eels. The reeds are used for thatching cottages, too, and to make baskets.” Great-aunt Iphigenia paused. “It’s a curious thing, but many of the villagers have webbed toes. Fingers, too, sometimes. They are very much a water people.”

  Hattie was looking around at the roofs of the castle. Several of the towers, she noticed, showed signs of crumbling. She pointed out the remains of the tower that she had seen falling the previous night, when she arrived.

  “Oh dear. Not another one!” sighed Great-aunt Iphigenia. “That’s the west wing. We don’t use it at the moment. It badly needs repairing.” There was a long, sad pause. Sekhmet rubbed herself against Great-aunt Iphigenia’s skirts, as if to comfort her. “One day, I hope,” Great-aunt Iphigenia went on, “there’ll be enough money to repair it all, and the castle will be as magnificent as it once was. One day . . .”

  “But your mummy unwrapping parties are doing splendidly,” said Edwina encouragingly. “Every one helps, Miss Lambton. Every one.”

  “So they do,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. She did not appear greatly cheered. “But it does take such a long time.”

  Hattie had moved to the ramparts, trying to locate the tower that her room was in and hoping she wouldn’t see any more signs of ruin that she might feel obliged to point out. Sekhmet leapt up beside her and settled herself in a patch of sunshine. She nodded towards Hattie’s tower. Hattie was relieved to see that it was in much better repair. Then she looked down.