The Parliament of Blood (5 page)

They ran, as fast as they could, as Pearce approached. Mikey reacted most slowly, getting to his feet at last and turning to follow his friends. But Pearce lumbered forwards, grabbed Mikey's coat and dragged him back. He raised the cudgel.

‘I'll learn you to muck about here when you should be getting schooled.'

But as he tried to bring down the cudgel on the cowering Mikey, he found his arm held tight from behind.

‘Pick on someone your own size,' Eddie told the big man, struggling to hold back the cudgel.

It was not a struggle Eddie could win. Pearce was twisting round and wrenching the cudgel free.

‘Run!' Eddie shouted at Mikey.

Whether Mikey could hear or not, he understood – and he ran.

Eddie stepped away as Pearce walked slowly towards him. He felt the rough, cold brickwork against his back and knew he was up against the wall.

‘Why should I pick on someone my own size,' Pearce said menacingly, ‘when I've got you?'

‘Have you?' Eddie was inching along the wall. As he felt the corner of the building behind him, he turned on his heel. ‘Got to catch me first, Fatso!'

With Pearce's shout of rage echoing off the brick buildings, Eddie ran full pelt after his friends.

‘I wonder if I could presume on your time for a little while?' Sir William asked.

George had spent the morning finishing his cataloguing work from the day before. Sir William had already been at work when George arrived, sitting in his office leafing through a large dusty book with a faded cloth cover. He had spared George a glance and a ‘Good morning' and George had left him in peace.

‘Of course, sir.'

Without further comment, Sir William turned and led the way through the archive, past specimen cabinets and shelves and tables and through one of the doorless openings into the rooms beyond. For George, this was uncharted territory. Almost a third of the enormous space they entered was taken up with crates and boxes filled with items that Sir William or his predecessor had already catalogued and stored away.

At last they arrived in front of a large crate. It was open, and whatever had been inside had been removed, leaving only the crushed straw that had protected it.

‘What was …?' George began to ask. But then he realised, from the size of the crate and the shape of the hollow in the straw packing. ‘The sarcophagus.'

Sir William nodded. ‘Came from this crate, yes. Lord Ruthven and his Royal Society colleagues were insistent, though I have no idea why. They maintain it is because the mummy was of no consequence, and would not be missed. Whereas it would be a shame to have to unwrap a specimen from the official collection. There might be complaints.'

‘It was a shame to have to unwrap a mummy at all,' George said. ‘If there ever was one. Before that prankster, whoever it was, took the mummy's place.'

‘You think it was some sort of prank, then?'

‘What else?' George laughed. ‘A real, ancient Egyptian mummy is hardly likely to get up and wander off now, is it?' He hesitated, seeing that Sir William's expression was still as grave as ever. ‘Is it?' he asked again, less sure now.

‘It does seem most improbable,' Sir William admitted. ‘And the fellow had a carriage waiting. I hardly think he could have arranged that while inside a sarcophagus that was itself first buried for thousands of years and then nailed up in this crate for the past few decades.' He reached inside the crate and pulled at the straw, as if to check that the real mummy was not still concealed inside. ‘It is a shame the photographer did not come back.'

‘You think photographs of the chap might help identify him?'

‘By a process of comparison, perhaps. You see, when I opened this crate yesterday morning, there was most certainly a genuine mummy resting inside at that time.'

‘So any substitution took place in the afternoon.'

‘The evening,' Sir William corrected him. ‘In the afternoon, I arranged for the photographer, Mr Denning, to photograph the mummy.'

‘Before the Unwrapping?'

‘It seemed sensible and prudent to keep a record of that which was about to be destroyed. Now, if we
could compare the photographs Denning took with our memories of how the mummy appeared last night, we might be able to identify something from the photographs, some change.'

‘If this Denning turns up.'

‘Oh we shall find him.' Sir William turned, the light glinting on his round spectacles. ‘But that isn't why I wanted you here.'

‘Then, why?'

Sir William turned towards another crate that was beside the open one. This crate was also wooden, old and battered. It was smaller than the first crate, and square rather than rectangular – a cube about four feet along each side. Sir William patted the top of it with the flat of his hand, and was rewarded with a puff of dust that hung in the air like smoke.

‘Now this crate is catalogued in the inventory as 57E2.'

‘And what is inside it?' George wondered.

‘I have no idea. There is a number in the inventory, and also on the top of the crate.' He pointed to where the number was stencilled. ‘But that number is described as simply “Casket”. My predecessor, the late Xavier Hemming, was meticulous in his records, so I find it odd that he entered such a vague description.'

‘He was instrumental in establishing this department, wasn't he?' George recalled. ‘Did you ever meet him?'

Sir William seemed not to hear. ‘The crate with the sarcophagus was properly catalogued. That is how we found it. After some preliminary remarks about how Hemming
came by the artefact, the description reads, as I recall: “Silver-lined sarcophagus from ancient Egypt c. 2000 BC. Contains mummified remains of Orabis (see document 56E19).”

‘And that document explains who this Orabis was?'

Sir William sniffed. ‘That document does not exist. Not in the inventory, not on the shelves. No such number.' He turned back to the square crate. ‘But the inventory number for the mummy and sarcophagus is 57E1. A connection perhaps? Related artefacts?'

‘You think the missing document might be in that crate?' George wondered. ‘It's very big.'

‘There is only one way to find out what's inside,' Sir William said. ‘Perhaps it is a document, perhaps a casket, perhaps something else. Perhaps whatever is inside will explain why the wise and clever Xavier Hemming believed that what seemed to be a perfectly ordinary and well-preserved Egyptian mummy deserved a place in the archives of the Department of Unclassified Artefacts.'

‘Unless he knew Orabis was going to rise from the dead,' George said with a smile.

Again Sir William fixed him with a serious look. ‘Don't think I haven't considered that,' he said. ‘Now, I shall wait here while you find something to prise open this crate.'

There was a crowbar lying on top of one of the other crates nearby, and George assumed it had been left there from when the crate containing the mummy of Orabis had been opened. He eased the end of the crowbar beneath the wooden lid of the square crate and pushed
down heavily on the other end. He could feel the wood straining against the nails. Then with a squeal, several of the nails pulled free of the wood and the lid lifted.

‘Well done,' Sir William said, as George moved round to prise open the other side.

Before long, the lid was propped against the side of another crate, and George and Sir William were staring into the open box. It was filled with straw, but there was obviously something inside the straw. George could see the glint of metal – of gold?

‘I had several chaps from Egyptology help lift the sarcophagus from its crate,' Sir William said. ‘Not ideal as they were more than a little intrigued to know what we get up to down here. But in this case, I think we need to remove one of the sides. Since there are just the two of us, you agree?'

George nodded.

‘I don't,' another voice announced before George could say anything. ‘There's three of us.'

George almost dropped the heavy crowbar as he turned sharply to see who had spoken. He sighed with relief as he saw who it was. He should have guessed.

‘So, what's going on here?' Eddie asked. He had his hands jammed deep in his trouser pockets and was leaning against the empty mummy crate. He had a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth while he chewed on the end, like a music-hall farmer about to burst into comic song.

Sir William was still sifting through the straw inside the
square crate. ‘Nonetheless,' he said, apparently unsurprised at Eddie's arrival, ‘I feel removing one of the sides would be the best course of action.'

As the side of the crate fell away, straw spilled out across the floor. Sir William reached in and pulled it away until they could see what was beneath.

‘It's another box,' Eddie said, disappointed. ‘I've never seen so many boxes as you've got stashed down here.'

George was rather more impressed. The box was made of a pale ceramic-like material that had an almost translucent quality. The glint of metal that George had seen was part of the mass of hieroglyphs that covered much of the sides and top of the box, in brilliant gold and deep blue. Tiny pictures and symbols that meant little to George – figures and birds and shapes …

‘Old, is it?' Eddie wondered.

‘Very,' Sir William assured him. ‘Now, let's see if we can get the top off, shall we?'

The lid was heavy and felt like fragile stone. Sir William described it as ‘calcite' but it wasn't a material that George was familiar with. The closest he had seen before was alabaster.

They laid the lid carefully on the ground and looked inside the box. It was divided up into five – a square area of two pairs, and at the end a single double-sized compartment. This larger space was empty, but in each of the others was what looked like a statue.

‘A canopic chest,' Sir William announced, as if this was entirely to be expected. He lifted out one of the statues.

It was about two feet tall, cylindrical but widening to a top that was carved in the vague shape of a head. There were more hieroglyphs down the front, with the top painted into the face of an ape.

George and Eddie lifted out the other statues and set them down in a row on a nearby shelf of a bookcase. They were similar, but the head of each figure was different.

‘Are they just decorative?' George wondered.

‘They are canopic jars,' Sir William explained. ‘As was the tradition, they are in the shapes of the sons of Horus. I forget their names, but as you can see, we have an ape, a falcon, a jackal and a human figure.'

‘Jars?' Eddie said. ‘You mean they open and there's stuff inside?'

‘I wouldn't,' Sir William warned as Eddie reached for the dog-like jackal-head of the nearest canopic jar.

‘Why not?'

‘Well, I was right. These jars and this chest do indeed belong with the mummy of Orabis. In fact, you could say they are part of the mummy. Part of the ancient process of mummification involved the removal of bodily organs. They were placed in these jars.'

Eddie's hand came away from the jar. ‘That's just … disgusting,' he said, screwing his face up. ‘What bodily organs?' he asked after a moment.

‘Liver, lungs, stomach and intestines, I think.'

Eddie nodded, looking no happier. ‘That's
really
disgusting.'

Sir William was looking into the casket again. He
reached down into the larger compartment, feeling round. ‘Seems to be empty,' he announced.

‘What should be inside it?' George asked.

‘Well, nothing. We have the four canopic jars. So far, so ordinary and entirely as expected. But why have a compartment if there's nothing to go in it?'

‘Something's been taken out?' Eddie asked.

‘Or perhaps the casket was a little too big, so there was space left after they divided it up for the jars,' George said.

Sir William drummed his fingers on the narrow dividing wall. ‘Possibly. Perhaps the inscription explains it.' He crouched down in front of the casket, inspecting the hieroglyphs.

‘So, what do all these symbols mean?' George wanted to know.

‘Mmm?' Sir William straightened up, rubbing his chin as he considered. ‘I'm afraid I have no idea,' he said at last. ‘Perhaps someone in Egyptology will be able to enlighten us. We should make a copy.'

Eddie whistled. ‘Take a while for George to copy that lot in his sketchbook.

‘Which is why,' Sir William said, ‘we shall have photographs taken. If that photographer ever turns up.'

‘Oh yes,' Eddie said. ‘I knew there was something I had to tell you. There's a man up in your office. I said I'd let you know. Anyway, he said something about photographs.'

‘Anything else?' George asked, sarcastically.

Eddie nodded. ‘Murder.' He grinned. ‘Photographs, and murder.'