fingers.
“Oh yes. I think you might be right.” He looked up. Held her gaze.
And there is no surprise in his eyes , she thought, because when he first came to the house he gave me his card and I took it, and he must have seen the ring then.
“And do you know?” He was looking at Micky now. “It is very old. Middle Kingdom Egyptian.Almost certainly it was worn by a priest or priestess at Sekhmet’s temple. Sekhmet… the most powerful and terrible goddess, bringer of plagues and diseases.”
Sekhmet… the name of the circus! Maybe that’s why Grandma had bought the tickets? Another piece of the puzzle, Claire was sure of it, and maybe soon now it would start to take shape.
“Wicked!” said Micky. “Do you know loads about mummies and curses and stuff?”
“Well,” he said, “I did live in Egypt once and…” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “I believe some scrolls I found buried under the floor of an ancient tomb had a curse placed on them, because…”
Micky’s eyes were round as saucers.
“Sadly, everywhere I go now, sickness follows… people die. Horribly.”
For a second there was silence. Then he made a face. Drew a hand across his neck. Made a gurgling sound in his throat.
Claire’s mum laughed. Relief. For a split-second Claire could tell she’d thought he was serious.
Micky still did. “But you’re not dead!”
“Ah no,” he said. “You see, the scrolls I uncoveredwere spells, and if I’m careful to say them every day, just before dawn,” – he paused for effect – “then I cannot die.”
Micky was hooked. “Uh! What, not ever?”
Claire twisted the ring round and round her finger. Watched his face as it seemed to be registering real emotions. Then she leaned across him and quickly pulled the box to her and pressed her ring into the cartouche on its side. Her mum and Micky looked hopeful. Expectant.
But he doesn’t, she thought. Because … and the same words popped into her head again: it isn’t time yet.
Manuscript 5
I awoke and lay awhile with the curtains drawn around my bed, not knowing what time of the day or night it was. For a few brief moments I felt warm and peaceful, though there was noise from outside. The clatter of carriage wheels on cobbles. The crow of the cockerel. The squeal of a pig. Jane snoring softly. And someone was shouting for a link boy to light the way, so I knew the sun was not yet risen.
I snuggled down, pulling the covers over my head. The feathers in the mattress folded around me, as if I was buried under a blanket of deep, warm snow. All sound was muffled, except for the steady thud of my heart beating. If only I could stay here, safe, for ever. If only I hadn’t taken the ring.
I could hear my mother was up and about. Doors slammed. Her voice was getting louder and louder, shouting, “Margrat! Jane! Wake up you slug-a-beds. There is work to do.”
Now I remembered. The Doctor was invited for dinner and he had sent word that he would come. I had not doubted it for a moment.
Jane was sent out to the Stocks Market early to buy a rabbit for a fricassee. Oysters, salmon and a lobster too, for my mother hoped to impress. The eminent doctor, Nicholas Benedict, was to dine at her table!
But by nine o’clock, Jane had still not come home and my mother, grown frantic, sent me out, still wearing my apron, to look for her. “If you find her, send her home at once. Then you must go to Cheapside to buy some salads from the herb market. Be quick as you can, for the Doctor will be here before we know it.”
Truly, I meant to be, for my mother was like the Devil when crossed. But then, just as I came to the corner of Milk Street, I saw a noisy crowd had gathered. A rope-walker had set up his poles and rope. I watched as he clambered up and started his walk. Though I knew perfectly well that he did not, just for a heartbeat, it seemed that he trod the air.
The crowd gasped and fell silent in wonder as he became an acrobat and danced upon
“Oh yes. I think you might be right.” He looked up. Held her gaze.
And there is no surprise in his eyes , she thought, because when he first came to the house he gave me his card and I took it, and he must have seen the ring then.
“And do you know?” He was looking at Micky now. “It is very old. Middle Kingdom Egyptian.Almost certainly it was worn by a priest or priestess at Sekhmet’s temple. Sekhmet… the most powerful and terrible goddess, bringer of plagues and diseases.”
Sekhmet… the name of the circus! Maybe that’s why Grandma had bought the tickets? Another piece of the puzzle, Claire was sure of it, and maybe soon now it would start to take shape.
“Wicked!” said Micky. “Do you know loads about mummies and curses and stuff?”
“Well,” he said, “I did live in Egypt once and…” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “I believe some scrolls I found buried under the floor of an ancient tomb had a curse placed on them, because…”
Micky’s eyes were round as saucers.
“Sadly, everywhere I go now, sickness follows… people die. Horribly.”
For a second there was silence. Then he made a face. Drew a hand across his neck. Made a gurgling sound in his throat.
Claire’s mum laughed. Relief. For a split-second Claire could tell she’d thought he was serious.
Micky still did. “But you’re not dead!”
“Ah no,” he said. “You see, the scrolls I uncoveredwere spells, and if I’m careful to say them every day, just before dawn,” – he paused for effect – “then I cannot die.”
Micky was hooked. “Uh! What, not ever?”
Claire twisted the ring round and round her finger. Watched his face as it seemed to be registering real emotions. Then she leaned across him and quickly pulled the box to her and pressed her ring into the cartouche on its side. Her mum and Micky looked hopeful. Expectant.
But he doesn’t, she thought. Because … and the same words popped into her head again: it isn’t time yet.
Manuscript 5
I awoke and lay awhile with the curtains drawn around my bed, not knowing what time of the day or night it was. For a few brief moments I felt warm and peaceful, though there was noise from outside. The clatter of carriage wheels on cobbles. The crow of the cockerel. The squeal of a pig. Jane snoring softly. And someone was shouting for a link boy to light the way, so I knew the sun was not yet risen.
I snuggled down, pulling the covers over my head. The feathers in the mattress folded around me, as if I was buried under a blanket of deep, warm snow. All sound was muffled, except for the steady thud of my heart beating. If only I could stay here, safe, for ever. If only I hadn’t taken the ring.
I could hear my mother was up and about. Doors slammed. Her voice was getting louder and louder, shouting, “Margrat! Jane! Wake up you slug-a-beds. There is work to do.”
Now I remembered. The Doctor was invited for dinner and he had sent word that he would come. I had not doubted it for a moment.
Jane was sent out to the Stocks Market early to buy a rabbit for a fricassee. Oysters, salmon and a lobster too, for my mother hoped to impress. The eminent doctor, Nicholas Benedict, was to dine at her table!
But by nine o’clock, Jane had still not come home and my mother, grown frantic, sent me out, still wearing my apron, to look for her. “If you find her, send her home at once. Then you must go to Cheapside to buy some salads from the herb market. Be quick as you can, for the Doctor will be here before we know it.”
Truly, I meant to be, for my mother was like the Devil when crossed. But then, just as I came to the corner of Milk Street, I saw a noisy crowd had gathered. A rope-walker had set up his poles and rope. I watched as he clambered up and started his walk. Though I knew perfectly well that he did not, just for a heartbeat, it seemed that he trod the air.
The crowd gasped and fell silent in wonder as he became an acrobat and danced upon
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