The Soul Scarab

by C J Turner

  He joined Max, who had picked up the dagger and was examining it with close interest at the far end of the big room.

  ‘What do you think?’ Blake asked softly.

  ‘Mm, it look does look fresh, old blood would have oxidised centuries ago.’ Max scraped a little of the dry, flaky substance into his handkerchief and carefully returned it to his pocket. ‘I can get it checked out, it will be as well to know. But no word to Alice or Amunet, mind.’

  ‘Agreed, but the sight of blood would never effect Alice in that way, there has be another reason - we need to talk.’ Blake broke off abruptly as Amunet came up to them.

  She was profoundly shaken by the collapse of one who she had always regarded as invincible, but her voice was firm when she answered their quick concerns.

  ‘Alice is feeling better, but I think she should be in bed. She wants to see you both first, though.’

  They gathered round the patient, who was now sitting propped up with cushions. Alice looked exhausted and appeared to have aged ten years in the last ten minutes but she looked up at their concerned faces and attempted a somewhat unconvincing chuckle.

  ‘You can take that look off your faces - I’ve had a bit of a shock, I won’t deny, but no harm done! I am staying here until I hear what you have to say about that wretched thing. Blake, I can’t apologise enough for…’

  The Professor swiftly interrupted her.

  ‘That’s enough of that. Now, are you sure you are up to this?’ he studied her pale face closely but she nodded firmly and satisfied, he looked round at the three of them, but addressed his first comment to Amunet.

  ‘Are you certain that this is the same dagger that Hameeda gave you to bring to me?’

  He proffered it to her, but although she scrutinised it carefully, she did not touch it.

  ‘Yes, it is, I would swear so.’

  Blake nodded his head, ‘So this is the artifact that Naa’il took from the tomb, I saw the wall painting of it, but he never told me that he had found the original.’

  ‘My Aunt told me that he thought to save it from being taken by one of the fellahin and sold illegally, afterward he was afraid and wanted to put it back, but by then he was too ill.’ Amunet whispered.

  Blake passed it to Max, who examined it thoughtfully, ‘Yes, unless I have been wasting my time these past twenty years, this is the real McCoy, a genuine New Kingdom artifact of the eighteenth dynasty, and it is identical to the one we saw the night Ahmed was killed’.

  The full implication of his words dropped like a stone in their midst, creating ever-growing ripples of trepidation throughout the entire room.

  So, it was not over then, and two hearts beat a little faster as realization dawned that their uneasy alliance must continue if they were ever going to get to the bottom of this strange enigma.

  As that first wave of consternation slowly ebbed away, Blake looked across at the three faces confronting him, the varying degrees of apprehension, excitement and alarm showing clearly in their different expressions, and came to a decision.

  ‘Don’t look so stricken Alice, no harm was done – in fact you have done us a favour, there is a very good chance that but for you, Ahmed’s nasty little gang would have found and stolen the dagger for themselves. But in the light of this new development, I suggest that we go back to Luxor, legitimately this time’, with a nod to Amunet, ‘Consult with Hameeda, and see if we can lay this business to rest once and for all. I think we should start by having another look at the secret chamber that old Naa’il discovered. I had hardly any time then to make a proper study, but the priest Menkhepherene’s name was mentioned and I would very much like to see those inscriptions again. If we can get permission to join one of the existing excavations and return to the Valley officially, so much the better!’

  ‘We can’t do that.’ Max protested, ‘How can we explain where we came by the dagger without avoiding awkward questions?’

  ‘She brought it in with no trouble, and that would have been the trickiest part! We will take a chance and carry it back in the same way. After all, I can hardly be accused of smuggling antiques into Egypt!’ Blake eyes were alight with the scent of battle ahead, as he ruthlessly overruled Max’s objections.

  Max, however, had been greatly looking forward to having Amunet to himself for a while in Cornwall, and he was thus disinclined to forgo that pleasure without a fight.

  ‘But there are arrangements to be made, permits to be arranged - it could take months and even then we may be refused permission. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to get to the bottom of this every bit as much as you, but it needs some thought and careful planning.’

  ‘Now, that is where we may have struck lucky!’ interjected Blake triumphantly, ‘The museum has been trying to organise a field trip in that area for some time and had asked me to head it. I refused, but I know they still haven’t found a replacement yet, and I think I may just have changed my mind!’

  After that, there could be no further objections. It was obvious to all that the answers to their many questions could only be sought in Egypt. The two men stayed on late into the night making their plans, but Amunet and Alice went to bed, one to make certain arrangements of her own, and the other to dream disturbing dreams.

  As it turned out, it took three weeks for them to complete the preparations for the trip and they did not go under the aegis of the museum after all. The Professor’s confidence had been misplaced; the museum authorities had found another willing candidate, whom Blake had agreed to meet to pool certain information, whereby he could take advantage of their official standing. Even discounting his ulterior motive, this was unusual behaviour for Blake, who was normally as co-operative with most other archaeologists as a rattlesnake with toothache.

  When he related this development to Max and Amunet, however, far from being displeased, it seemed to afford him a great deal of satisfaction which he would not explain, merely saying that it made no difference to their plans and the important thing was that they now had official access to the Valley of the Kings.

  One morning a few days later, Max opened a letter that had come for him in the post and after glancing at the contents briefly, brandished it at Blake with a flourish. Amunet and Alice were out somewhere, they had been spending quite a bit of time together recently, and the two men were alone in the study.

  ‘There – just read that. The report has come back from the lab on the scrapings from the dagger!’

  ‘Well, I would do so, if you could stop waving it in my face in that manic fashion - that’s better, thank you.’ Blake plucked the letter from Max’s grasp and began to read the highly technical report, while Max anxiously paced up and down the room, muttering to himself.

  ‘So, it was recent blood on the blade but the blood type is not Amunet’s! Then how the devil did it get there, if the thing has been tightly wrapped up in brown paper ever since Amunet came over to England!’

  The Professor put the letter down and stared remotely into the middle distance. ‘Mm, instead of obtaining answers, we seem to be collecting more and more questions!’ he said quietly.

  ‘But that is the same dagger, the identical hilt to the one I saw in Ahmed’s back, I would swear to it, despite your ridiculous theory about mirages!’ Max exclaimed. ‘Can there be two of the confounded things?’

  ‘There might be, but it would seem unlikely,’ Blake turned and looked at Max squarely. ‘And as for my ‘ridiculous theory’ – how would you have preferred to explain Ahmed’s totally inexplicable death to an already highly strung and emotionally distraught young woman, cut off from her own family and only just recovering from a near fatal accident in which she had nearly lost her mind? May I remind you that Amunet was in the country illegally at the time, the last thing we needed was for her to have a complete breakdown while she was over there. Even I would have had a job explaining that away!’

  Max sat heavily on the nearest chair and looked aghast at Blake. ‘My dear fellow, I am sorry – I hadn�
�t thought … she always seemed so cool but of course … ‘

  ‘No, Max, it’s not your fault – you didn’t see the state she was in when I first saw in the hospital. We would have been in the devil of a pickle if she had cracked while we were out in Egypt. Not that I would have blamed her, it was a damned uncanny thing but I still maintain there has to be a logical explanation! The devil of it is that we are not in a position to ask for a sample of Ahmed’s blood to match against the stains on the dagger. Impossible of course in the present circumstances, but a blasted pity as even Alice would have to accept that as irrefutable proof that there is nothing supernatural about this business!’

  ‘Can you be so certain of that?’ Max enquired quietly.

  ‘Don’t you start, Max – it can’t be Ahmed’s blood on the damned thing, if it’s been tucked up in Alice’s old mini for the last few weeks, it’s just not possible! It is bad enough that Alice has seen fit to pass on her nonsensical theories to Amunet! You would think that Alice of all people would have more sense but she has gone into annoying mysterious mode and just keeps telling me I should keep an open mind! Hah!’ Blake laughed shortly, but without mirth.

  Max looked across at his friend, who was clearly put out. Max was concerned himself but the anxiety he detected in Blake’s voice was worrying. It was not like Blake to let himself be ruffled by Alice’s unorthodox views.

  ‘I wondered if you knew about that. Frankly, I am surprised that such a sensible woman could place any credence in such things, but I wish she would keep her theories to herself and not pass them on to Amunet, the girl is looking very nervy and frail again.’

  ‘What things?’ the Professor asked curiously

  ‘Well, possession and curses, and such stuff - I heard her discussing reincarnation with Amunet yesterday!’

  ‘Working each other up, more likely, and enjoying every minute! I keep telling you that Amunet does not scare so easily!’

  ‘Not in a practical sense, no! But she too is convinced that the dagger is an evil thing and bringer of bad luck to her family, and you can hardly blame her when you consider the carnage it has already wrought in her life.’

  Max stood up and strode restlessly around the room and when he spoke again, his voice was unusually hesitant.

  ‘It is odd though, don’t you think, I mean we still cannot explain how we all appeared to see the dagger in Ahmed’s back that night. Or how Khalid managed to guide Ahmed straight to the tomb – who was he anyway and how could he possibly have known it was there?’

  ‘Oh please Max! It must be catching, this determination not to look for a perfectly rational explanation when a very bizarre one is so much more fun! Thinking we saw the dagger was a phenomena, a trick of the light or something thrown up in the avalanche which created the illusion.’ Blake angrily crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into a corner of the room. ‘And you know as well as I do, that the local fellahin have often found tombs in the past and kept the knowledge to themselves. I bet Khalid had known about the tomb for years but had never been able to do anything about it until he hooked up with Ahmed.’

  Max looked thoughtful but Blake continued firmly.

  ‘I won’t subscribe to that line of puerile sensationalism - the blood was obviously already on the dagger before Annulet brought it over to England. Hamada had probably used it to cut up a chicken for dinner or something!’

  Frowning, Max opened his mouth to protest at this ridiculous statement, but did not want to play devil’s advocate and said no more. Nevertheless, he was not convinced by Blake’s specious arguments.

  Just when things had been going so well. For now that the dagger had been found, in the excitement of planning the trip and what they would do when they got back to Egypt, the constraint between Blake and Amunet had largely disappeared. Max had looked on benignly and mentally held his breath, willing Blake not to mess up this time and upset this new détente.

  He should have known better.

  Chapter 19

  While they waited for Blake’s arrangements to be finalised, Max took advantage of the delay and carried Amunet off to the West Country to enjoy a longer stay than their earlier flying visit.

  That usually sanguine gentleman was having a few problems of his own, trying to sort out the ambivalence of his feelings for this unusual young woman. Although convinced that Blake’s feeling for Amunet ran deeper than he was admitting to, Max was also very much aware that he was only a hair’s breadth away from falling in love with her himself.

  Prepared, for the moment, to hold back and see how things developed, he was not averse to snatching a few days in her company where he would have her entirely to himself, even though he knew it would not make things any easier for him.

  However, the trip was not wholly a success. Amunet had been delighted and excited at her first introduction to Swallowhill. This time she was quieter and more withdrawn, raising herself with an effort so she would not spoil Max’s pleasure in showing her his beautiful home and the surrounding countryside. She liked Max and could not help but see, despite her preoccupation, that he was a very different man here on his own turf. His estate and the home farm were not particularly extensive, but they were busy and productive and a lot of people seemed to depend on him. He was popular too and obviously held in a great deal of genuine affection and respect.

  This Max seemed more imposing, presenting an entirely different facet of his character to Amunet. She suspected that aside from his very real friendship with the Professor, Max allowed himself to go along with Blake on his more outrageous starts as an anecdote to his conventional, and usually entirely proper life style. Here in his own place, his natural authority asserted itself and Amunet began to see him as his own man, and a very charming one at that.

  Conversely, as her regard for Max deepened, she became more troubled for she could see that, with the slightest encouragement, Max would happily shift their platonic friendship to a more intimate relationship. She craved Blake’s presence like a drug and more than ever she needed Max’s support as a friend; both it seemed were denied her and the strain on her stretched emotions began to tell.

  Max was aware of her unhappiness. Amunet was obviously fretting about something that she felt she could not discuss with him, and one evening he decided to try to find out what was wrong.

  It was after dinner and they were sitting outside on the terrace at the back of the house, which looked westwards towards the restless Atlantic. Earlier, they had admired the lingering remnants of a magnificent sunset painted in glorious bold strokes of gold and rose across the pale sky. Now the last of the shimmering light was slowly fading into the west; the warm semi darkness and the murmur of the lace edged waves gently creaming on the shingle below, creating an intimacy that Max hoped would inspire confidences.

  Amunet was staring out across the wide expanse of ocean which was gradually merging with the dusky twilight, and absently fingering the amulet around her neck. Her eyes were wide and troubled and reflected the same dark grey green of the sea.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts, my dear?’ It seemed suddenly very important to Max for him to bring her back from wherever she wandered. Not a very pleasant place, to judge by the anxious expression on her face. She turned to him in surprise.

  ‘I am sorry, Max ... what did you say?’

  He stared into the beautiful, unhappy eyes, and recognised defeat.

  When he told her that Blake had rung at last to tell them that it was time to return to London, her reanimation was tangible. Distressed by the hurt she saw in his eyes, she took pains to assure him that she had loved her time at Swallowhill. It was just that she desperately wanted to clear up the mystery, put a full stop to the end of this distressing episode, and throw herself back into her interrupted career. She liked him too much to offer him only second place in her affections.

  Her words were sincere even if they had sprung from a well of hopelessness. Only by making herself believe them, could the future have any purpose f
or her.

  Max, of course, knew something of what was going on in her mind but he still hoped that he would be able to persuade her otherwise, one way or the other, when the time came.

  They arrived back in London in the early evening of the next day and were met at the front door of Blake’s house by a flustered Alice.

  ‘Sir Max!’ (Alice had views about titles and could not be persuaded to call Max simply by his Christian name.) ‘Amunet, here you are both at last, come in – come in, Blake is…’

  She was interrupted by a burst of merriment from the drawing room, amid Blake’s deep laughter, a lighter, feminine gurgle of amusement could be heard. It sounded sexy and intimate, causing Amunet to raise her eyebrows at Max, who pulled a face and shrugged bewilderment.

  As they hesitated in the hall, Blake flung back the door of the drawing room. He was in tearing form as they could see, greeting them exuberantly as he ushered them in and conscientiously turning to the room’s only occupant to make introductions. This was a tall, elegant woman with smooth blonde hair swept back from a broad brow into an elegant chignon, and with the beautiful fair complexion of a certain type of English woman. She was cool, she was calm, she was very, very sure of herself, and Amunet detested her on sight.

  ‘Lalage, I’m sure you already know Max Tregunna, and this is Amunet Shafik who is helping us with some research at the moment.’ Ignoring their start of surprise, Blake continued smoothly, ‘May I introduce Dr. Lalage Meredith. Lalage is heading the field trip to Luxor and is an expert on New Kingdom artefacts; she has kindly put all their resources at our disposal when we join her out there.’

  This bombshell exploded into a startled silence and Max, in the process of shaking the Doctor’s hand, froze and shot an astonished look of enquiry at Blake, who smiled blandly back at him. The lady with a wry smile gently disengaged her hand which Max was still holding, causing him to distractedly mutter an apology and step back to stand beside his stricken companion.