The Magic and the Mummy (2 page)
At last their father said. “If we put the meat in a cage, and close the door, so the animals and birds could not eat it, what would happen to it?”
Karu smiled. “Then I would open the door of the cage and I would eat it!”
“No you would NOT!” their father shouted. The children jumped as if a Nile crocodile had snapped its jaws suddenly shut. “I will TELL you what would happen to the meat. It would become slimy and very smelly. It would be covered in flies and the flies would lay their eggs. The eggs would hatch out into maggots and the maggots would eat the meat.”
“Do they like slimy, smelly meat?” the boy gasped.
“They
love
it,” Father said. “Love it.” He turned back to Neria. “People like us would be like pieces of meat when we died. We’d rot and smell and be eaten by maggots. That is why we have to turn people into mummies.”
“I know, Father,” Neria said.
“That’s what we do in the House of Death. We make mummies.” He lowered his voice. “We are going to get very busy in the House of Death some day soon. I need some extra help. Someone who can learn quickly. Someone I can trust. I have chosen you, Neria.”
The girl felt a warm tingle in her cheeks. “Thank you Father,” she said and lowered her dark eyes.
In the quiet of the room little Karu’s voice sounded like a reed pipe. “Will I be made into a mummy, Father, or will I be eaten by maggots?”
Father turned on him with an angry glare. “If you do not close your monkey mouth you will be chopped up and fed to the crocodiles.”
“Ooooh!” Karu cried. He jumped to his feet in fear, took a step backwards and fell over the cat. The cat squawked, the boy squeaked and the children tried to hide their laughter.
“Get to bed NOW!” Father roared. “Or I will feed you to the Pharaoh’s own pet crocodile.”
Karu fled, his little legs pattering faster than his thumping heart. He clutched his favourite rag ball to his mouth.
Neria was sure Father’s tight mouth was trying not to laugh. At last he looked around the table. “In fact you can all go to bed,” he said. “Sleep well, Neria, you have a busy day ahead tomorrow.”
But Neria didn’t sleep well. She hardly slept at all. Her cat crept onto her blanket and purred like a mountain lion.
She stroked it and whispered, “The House of Death! I’m going to the House of Death, Katkins.”
The cat purred.
At last the black night turned to the darkest grey and she knew Horus the Hawk God was opening his eye. The eye that was the sun.
It was time to go.
Neria’s father was dressed in his finest robes today. He marched down the middle of the road and everyone scurried to get out of his way. It was as if he was too bright to look at; bright as the eye of Horus. Even the dogs tucked in their tails and ran.
Neria walked a little way behind him. Suddenly a woman ran out from a dark doorway. She threw her arms up to the sky and shrieked. Then she bent down to the ground, grabbed a fistful of dust and let it trickle over her grey-black hair.
Neria’s father nodded. “So, it has started. We must hurry.” He strode out and the girl trotted to his side.
“What has started, Father?”
“The woman must have heard some news. Last night the Pharaoh was sick. This morning he must be dead.” He marched on. “We have work to do.”
They headed east towards the rising sun, passed through the poorer streets of shambling houses and then through the city gates. Guards raised their spears to salute them.
Neria copied her father; she raised her chin and ignored them.
This gate led into the desert and ahead of them stood the House of Death. Not a house at all. A fine white tent that had no walls. All the smells could be blown away on the desert breeze. Perfumes of cedar and rose took away the smell of death but still the jackals on the hills caught the scent. They watched and waited.
