The Mummy Smugglers of Crumblin Castle

by Pamela Rushby

  One of the kittens squeaked loudly and Hattie turned from an ancient, spotted mirror, where she’d been admiring herself in a hat covered in pink ostrich feathers, to see the kitten emerging from the chest dragging something big and black and hairy. Oh! A spider! Hattie backed off quickly.

  “Let it go!” she implored the kitten. “It’s big enough to eat you!”

  The kitten squeaked again, impatiently, and dragged the black object towards Hattie. Hattie retreated, but the kitten was determined, and it deposited the object at Hattie’s feet. Now Hattie could see it wasn’t a spider at all, but a wig. A wig made up of dozens and dozens of tiny plaits, with little gold flowers woven into them.

  “Ohhh . . .” Hattie breathed. She picked up the wig, gave it a gentle shake, and fitted it onto her head. She turned to the mirror. The wig had a fringe that covered her forehead to her eyebrows. At the sides and back, it fell straight to her shoulders. Hattie stuffed her own brown hair inside. No wonder Great-aunt Iphigenia had pretended she was Cleopatra. Hattie felt as if she was Cleopatra, too. “There must be a dress, as well,” she said to the kittens.

  The kittens plunged back into the chest and in seconds there was a dress, white linen, which they dragged out and dropped at Hattie’s feet. Hattie picked it up and held it against herself. It fell from her shoulders to the floor, in pleats that would have been crisp if they hadn’t been stuffed into a chest ever since Great-uncle Sisyphus and Great-aunt Iphigenia were children.

  “I suppose I can wash it. Then I suppose it’ll have to be ironed,” Hattie said doubtfully. She’d never washed anything in her life, and was totally unfamiliar with the processes of laundry.

  Sekhmet shook her head and motioned to Hattie to put the dress down.

  “You’ll take care of it?” said Hattie. “You and the kittens? Oh, thank you, Sekhmet!”

  When Hattie woke the next morning, the linen dress was hanging in her room, snow white and crisply pleated. The wig appeared to have been brushed and tidied, and was lying on a chair.

  Hattie leaped out of bed and immediately tried them both on. Perfect! she thought. Perfect! It just needs – she thought about the illustrations in Great-uncle Sisyphus’ big books, and what the Egyptians in those pictures had been wearing. Jewellery. It needed jewellery. A necklace. Bracelets. And Hattie needed to paint her eyes, with green or grey eyeshadow and wide black eyeliner. She knew where she might find those. The Cabinets of Curiosities.

  Over the next few afternoons, Hattie spent all her free time exploring the cabinets in the long corridors of Crumblin Castle. She found pottery. She found rocks with plant fossils embedded in them. She found shrunken heads. She found bones: animal, she devoutly hoped, not human. She found manuscripts, books, insects pinned to velvet boards, jars with who-knew-what preserved and floating inside them. And finally, she found jewellery.

  The jewellery did not appear as if it had been greatly valued. Hattie almost overlooked it. It was rolled in a piece of cloth and pushed to the back of a lower shelf in a cabinet otherwise filled with fragments of stone inscribed with Egyptian hieroglyphs. So it must be Egyptian, Hattie thought. It certainly looked rather like the pictures in Great-uncle Sisyphus’ books. There were necklaces and bracelets made of pottery beads, and a few necklaces of coloured glass beads. The biggest piece was a collar of coloured beads, with a gold figure of a bird – a vulture? a hawk? Hattie wasn’t sure – suspended from the front.

  The jewellery was rather disappointing. Hattie had hoped for something far more spectacular, but this was all she had found, so it would have to do. She carefully rolled it back up in the cloth and took it to show to Great-uncle Sisyphus and Great-aunt Iphigenia. She found them at tea, with the Ravens.

  “Is it all right to wear it?” Hattie asked. “It’s not valuable, is it?”

  “I’m far from being an expert on jewellery,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia, “but this appears to me to be of little value. What do you think, Sisyphus?”

  Great-uncle Sisyphus slid his spectacles down his nose and peered through them. “Mmm. Pottery. Glass. Quite pretty, but I would say not valuable. Yes, indeed, I think you are very welcome to wear it, Hattie. Is your costume finished, then? When are we to see you in it?”

  “Hmph!” came from the sofa where the Ravens were sitting, radiating disapproval.

  “It’s nearly ready. I just need some paint for my eyes,” Hattie explained.

  “Kohl, you mean. I’m sure there’ll be some of that around,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “Sekhmet will know where it is.”

  “I’ll find a picture that shows how I should put it on,” Hattie said. “If Sekhmet can find it, I’ll dress up after dinner tonight.”

  “We’ll be looking forward to it,” said Great-uncle Sisyphus.

  Before Hattie went in to dinner, the kittens met her in the great hall. They were dragging, between them, a small basket containing several tiny pots.

  “Thank you!” Hattie sat down on the floor to explore the contents of the basket and the kittens climbed into her lap, up her arms and around her shoulders. Hattie opened the pots. They were full of thick pastes: black, grey and green. “That’s perfect!” Hattie said. The kittens purred.

  Though dinner was as delicious as ever, that evening Hattie couldn’t wait for it to be over. She twisted her fingers in her lap and tapped her toes as Edgar Raven leisurely consumed cheese and crackers and Edwina Raven cracked and nibbled at almonds and walnuts. As soon as she had finished placing the dishes in the dumb waiter, Hattie hurried back to her room. The kittens met her in the great hall and bounded ahead of her up her spiral staircase. They climbed onto the bed, the windowsill, the top of the wardrobe and watched as Hattie flung off her dress, her petticoats, her shoes and stockings.

  On went the white linen dress. It was sleeveless, so Hattie knew she would be chilly, but no matter. On went the hawk necklace, the bracelets. On went the wig. She had no shoes, Hattie realised. She’d need some sort of sandals. Well, she’d worry about that later.

  The kittens watched intently as Hattie opened the pots of kohl, picked up one of her paintbrushes and outlined her eyes in bold black, extending the line halfway to her ears at the sides. She filled in the space between eyes and eyebrows with green kohl. She darkened her eyebrows. Done!

  The kittens leaped to their feet as Hattie slowly stepped back and inspected herself in the mirror. Their eyes widened, and Hattie caught her breath. Because it wasn’t Hatshepsut Lambton she saw reflected in the glass before her. It was a princess, an ancient Egyptian princess.

  “Oh my,” said Hattie.

  The kittens escorted Hattie in a joyful, tumbling, jumping and pouncing procession down the spiral stairs and across the great hall. Outside the drawing room, Sekhmet met them. She inspected Hattie up and down, then nodded her head in approval. The door of the drawing room swung open as they approached and Great-uncle Sisyphus, Great-aunt Iphigenia and the Ravens all looked up.

  “Oh my,” said Great-uncle Sisyphus.

  “Oh my,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia.

  The Ravens were silent.

  It was a very happy evening, apart from the Ravens. Sekhmet and the kittens stayed in the drawing room. Great-aunt Iphigenia and Great-uncle Sisyphus toasted Hattie and her Egyptian costume with tea.

  “This is going to be perfectly splendid!” said Great-aunt Iphigenia. “It will add so much to the unwrapping parties! The guests will be able to see just how the ancient Egyptians looked when they were alive.”

  “Well, they will see how the women looked,” amended Great-uncle Sisyphus.

  “That’s true,” agreed Great-aunt Iphigenia. “The men, however – well, that is rather a pity, isn’t it?”

  Hattie glanced sideways at Edgar Raven. She couldn’t resist. “Perhaps Mr Edgar would consider dressing up as an Egyptian man?” she said.

  Everyone swivelled to look at Edgar Raven.

  The kittens made muffled squeaking noises. If kittens could be said to giggle, Hattie thought, that�
�s exactly what they were doing.

  Edgar Raven glared at Hattie. “I think not, Hatshepsut,” he said.

  “No,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia regretfully. “Perhaps not. The Egyptian men wore so very little, after all. Perhaps not entirely suitable.”

  The Ravens retired soon after. Hattie, after a busy day, was not far behind them. As she crossed the great hall, rubbing the gooseflesh on her bare arms and curling her bare toes against the chill of the stone floor, she noticed a crack of light around the door of the study where Great-aunt Iphigenia and the Ravens worked. The Ravens must be in there, she thought, working late. Hattie had no wish to have any further encounters with them that night. She was glad of her bare feet as she went silently on her way.

  The door of the study was open a little, and voices floated out.

  “That wretched child!” That was Edwina Raven.

  Then Edgar Raven. “Yes. Things have not been the same since she came.”

  “Always interfering! Having –” Edwina Raven’s tone was heavily sarcastic, “– good ideas!”

  Hattie paused. She knew eavesdroppers seldom heard good of themselves. Nevertheless, she lingered.

  “There is not much we can do. Her great-aunt is delighted with her.”

  Edwina Raven was thoughtful. “Unless she does something her great-aunt doesn’t like. Then perhaps they’d send her away to school.”

  “I would be the first to support that idea, if it ever happens. But however annoying she may be, Edwina, remember. Remember our plan. Remember how Sir Sisyphus treated our father. Ignoring the years he had spent labouring on that inscription. Publishing his own work first! Never acknowledging our father! Leaving him – and us – in poverty.”

  “Unfair!” said Edwina Raven. “Too unfair! We should have had our share – of the glory and the money.”

  “And we will,” said Edgar Raven grimly. “So we will. We will have our revenge. We will have all the money we should have had. And Crumblin Castle can sink into the fens for all we care. And every last Lambton with it.”

  “Especially if every last Lambton goes with it,” hissed Edwina Raven.

  “Just a few more years . . .”

  “Yes, just a few more years. Just as we planned. Then –”

  “Then we’ll be free. Free as birds. Free to please ourselves.”

  There was movement behind the door and Hattie flew, on silent feet, over the last few yards across the great hall and into her staircase.

  Well! A wretched child, was she? Always interfering! Having good ideas! And Great-uncle Sisyphus unfair! He’d translated that inscription before the Ravens’ father did – no matter how many years he had worked on it. Hattie was sure Great-uncle Sisyphus and Great-aunt Iphigenia would never have been unfair. But what was going to happen after a few more years, Hattie wondered. Presumably, the Ravens were going to retire. Well, wouldn’t that be nice? The day couldn’t come soon enough for Hattie. But in the meantime, she thought indignantly, the Ravens had no choice. They were just going to have to put up with her.

  Hattie did not have to wait long to wear her Egyptian costume. Even before the three upcoming mummy unwrapping parties had been scheduled, a messenger on horseback arrived at Crumblin Castle. He wore a very smart livery, and he had a startled look on his face.

  That could be due to the fact that he’d just been admitted by a cat, Hattie thought, as she saw him waiting in the great hall. But it appeared it was more than that.

  The messenger beckoned as he saw Hattie crossing the great hall. “Miss?”

  Hattie stopped. “Can I help you? Has Sekhmet taken your message?”

  “Sekhmet?” The man swallowed. “I don’t know about any Sekhmet. A cat took it. A cat!”

  “Yes,” Hattie agreed. “Sekhmet is a cat.”

  The messenger swallowed again. “And you know – out there – out beside the road. In the water. Monsters!”

  “Monsters? Really? I didn’t think we had any monsters.” Though Hattie was quite prepared to believe it. There may be things in the marshes she hadn’t encountered yet. “But perhaps you mean the crocodiles and hippopotamuses?”

  The messenger’s eyes bulged. He looked, Hattie thought, rather like a startled frog. “You know about them? They’re real?”

  “Real? Yes. They’re real. But they won’t hurt you.” Hattie thought for a moment. “At least, they probably won’t. Oh, but of course, you don’t have any amulets, do you?” Hattie drew the ribbon with the amulets of Tawaret and Sobek from around her neck. She smiled comfortingly at the messenger. “Here! You just wear these. You’ll be quite safe then. Nothing will come near you.”

  The messenger raised his eyebrows and put out a shaking hand to take the amulets. Then he pulled his hand back sharply as Edgar Raven came out of the study.

  Edgar Raven threw Hattie a suspicious look as he held out an envelope towards the messenger. “Miss Lambton thanks Lady Belcannon for her request for a mummy unwrapping party. It’s very short notice, but Miss Lambton is pleased to inform Lady Belcannon that the date she suggests can be accommodated. We will be in London the day after tomorrow.”

  The messenger bowed. “Thank you.” He took the envelope and moved slowly towards the door. He seemed reluctant to venture outside again.

  “Wait!” Hattie called. “You forgot your amulets!”

  She ran over and pressed the amulets into his hand. “Put them around your neck. You’ll be fine then.”

  The messenger did not appear entirely convinced, but he dropped the ribbon over his head and went out. The heavy door closed with a thunk! behind him.

  Edgar Raven contemplated the door. “Superstition,” he said shortly. “Do you really believe that those, those – charms – will protect anyone from anything?”

  “They certainly seem to be working for the postmen,” said Hattie.

  “Hmph. Nothing in the marsh has ever threatened me.” Edgar Raven went back into the study and closed the door.

  Hattie watched him go. She wasn’t surprised. Even crocodiles and hippopotamuses, she thought, would think twice before threatening Edgar Raven.

  They travelled to London by train two days later, carrying with them the second-last of the mummies from the mummy room. This was the mummy case of a man, Great-aunt Iphigenia told Hattie. It was an expensive mummy case, indicating that the man had been of high status. His name had been Padiamenet, and he had been an official. His title was Doorkeeper, in the great temple of Ra. His father’s name had been Usermose, and his grandfather another Padiamenet.

  “So what did a doorkeeper do? It doesn’t sound very important, and you said this is a high-status mummy case,” Hattie asked.

  “So it is. In fact, Doorkeeper was quite an important position to hold. Ordinary people were not allowed into the sacred places of the temple, so Doorkeepers were there to keep them out. They were also responsible for keeping the sacred places free of sand, so they’re often drawn holding a broom. And Padiamenet was also a Chief Barber, because all priests in the temple had to have their heads shaved, so there was plenty for him to do. Though he wouldn’t have done physical work himself. There would have been workers to sweep and shave and look after security. Padiamenet was the person in charge of them.”

  “You can tell all that from the mummy case?” Hattie was impressed.

  “Yes, it’s all there to be read. When you can read the hieroglyphs,” said Great-aunt Iphigenia.

  Hattie sighed and vowed to work even harder in her hieroglyph lessons. She wanted to be able to read all this information for herself.

  “Of course, we’ll know much more about our Doorkeeper and Chief Barber when we unwrap him,” Great-aunt Iphigenia went on. She laughed suddenly. “That is, if it is the mummy of our Doorkeeper and Barber, and not someone else, as we found last time. There’s always a surprise when you unwrap a mummy.”

  Hattie peeped into the small portmanteau she held on her knee, reassuring herself that her Egyptian costume was safe. She was so looking forw
ard to taking part in the unwrapping.

  When their carriage pulled up in front of Lady Belcannon’s house in a smart square in Bloomsbury, Hattie could see that it wasn’t quite as large and imposing as Lord Arelsford’s house, but there was already a throng of fashionably dressed people alighting from a line of carriages and walking up to the front door.

  “It’s going to be a much bigger audience,” Hattie said.

  “It’s Lady Belcannon’s birthday, apparently,” said Edgar Raven. He shifted his attache case from his hand to tuck it under his arm, so he could help Great-aunt Iphigenia alight from the carriage. “The party was already planned, but Lady Belcannon decided at the very last moment that she really must have a mummy unwrapping as part of it. That’s why she sent a messenger with her request, instead of writing, and why everything was done in such a hurry.”

  Great-aunt Iphigenia watched the people walking up to the front door. “Are we late?” she asked the Ravens.

  “Not at all,” Edwina Raven assured her. “We’re in good time. The guests must all be early, eager for the unwrapping.”

  Faces turned towards them and voices buzzed as the Ravens extricated the mummy case from the carriage and carried it towards the house.

  “Is that it?”

  “Is that the mummy?”

  “Look, my dear, look! It’s the mummy!”

  “How excessively thrilling!”

  Guests were milling around in Lady Belcannon’s hall and drawing room, so eager to observe the unwrapping that they paid little attention to the tea and cakes being served. Hattie eyed the cakes wistfully as a maid whisked them into an adjoining room, already set out with rows of chairs, and urged them to prepare as quickly as they could.

  “Can I change somewhere?” Hattie asked the maid.

  “Change, miss?”

  “Into my costume.”

  “I see. Just come with me.”

  The maid showed Hattie into a small dressing room with a wash basin and a screen. “Hurry,” she said. “My lady’s very anxious to begin. I’ll wait for you and take you back, so you don’t lose your way.”