The Chronicles of the Stone: Book One
The Secret of the Sacred Scarab
Cousins Justin and Adam are ecstatic about accompanying their aunt to Egypt. Both love adventure and know the work of James Kinnaird, an archaeologist searching for the tomb of an ancient Egyptian ruler, the Scarab King. Some dismiss the tomb as legend, but Justin and Adam believe differently.
From the moment their plane lands in Cairo, Justin and Adam bounce from one mysterious event to another. Unbeknownst to them, a street peddler gives Adam an ancient scarab. Dr. Faisal Khalid, head of the department of antiquities and research at the Egyptian Museum, shows a strange interest in the cousins and their relic. Then, as the boys learn that James Kinnaird is missing, they realize something sinister is afoot.
Kidnapped and taken across the desert, the boys are plunged into serious danger and chased by ruthless enemies. Dr. Khalid will stop at nothing to discover the Scarab King's tomb and claim its treasures. But he has underestimated the boys' ingenuity.
Join Justin and Adam as they evade their captors and unravel the secrets of the Scarab King. Relying on their wits, courage, and each other, the boys must solve the mystery of the sacred scarab and rescue James Kinnaird before time runs out.
Winner Silver Medal Teen Fiction 2010 Nautilus Book Awards
Finalist Children’s Fiction 2010 International Book Awards
Winner Bronze Medal Pre-Teen Fiction 2010 Moonbeam Book Awards
For my mother, Wendy, and for young explorers everywhere
The Secret of the Sacred Scarab
Copyright © 2008, 2011 by Fiona Ingram
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-908400-21-5
Cover design and internal graphics by South African artist Lori Bentley
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About the Author
Fiona Ingram’s earliest story-telling talents came to the fore when, from the age of ten, she entertained her three younger brothers and their friends with tales of children undertaking dangerous and exciting exploits, which they survived through courage and ingenuity. Haunted houses, vampires, and skeletons leaping out of coffins featured in the cast of characters.
Inspired by a family trip to Egypt, The Secret of the Sacred Scarab began life as a little anecdotal tale for her two nephews (then 10 and 12), who had accompanied her on the Egyptian trip. This short story grew into a children’s book, the first in the adventure series Chronicles of the Stone. Although Fiona does not have children of her own, she has an adopted teenage foster child, from an underprivileged background, who is discovering the joys of reading for pleasure. Fiona’s experiences with teaching her daughter to read and appreciate books have sparked her interest in the fight against illiteracy, and she has written many articles on getting kids passionate about reading.
Praise for The Secret of the Sacred Scarab
“Ingram has
crafted a fascinating story of adventure.”
Foreword Literary
Review Magazine (USA)
“What a fabulous
first book in a planned series from Fiona Ingram ... it’s truly a
non-stop adventure story, and one that boys and girls alike will
enjoy.”
Children’s and Teens’ Book Connection (USA)
“This is one of
the most thrilling children’s books that I have read in a long
time.”
Stories For Children Magazine (USA)
Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins
Egypt! They were off at last. Adam tingled with excitement as he crammed the last few things into his kit bag. He could hardly believe he was going. His German shepherd Velvet lay on the bed with her snout resting on her front paws, her eyes forlorn. Adam scratched behind her ears.
“You know I’m going away, don’t you, Velvet,” he whispered. Her ears pricked up and her shaggy tail wagged.
“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be back soon.” Adam gazed at Velvet. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who understands me … who knows what this trip means to me.”
Just then, Adam’s father came into the bedroom. “Ready for Egypt?”
“You bet! I can’t believe it’s happening, Dad.”
“You’re a very lucky boy. Now, you’ll behave with Aunt Isabel and Gran?”
“Of course. How can you even ask that?” Adam sputtered in indignation. He had just turned twelve and it made him feel so stupid when his father still treated him like a kid.
His father ruffled Adam’s hair. “Just checking.”
Adam heard his cousin Justin arriving with his parents. Adam’s father went to greet them. Halfway down the stairs, he ran into Justin who was bounding up, calling Adam.
“In here!” Adam yelled over Velvet’s eager barking.
Justin dashed into the room and leaped straight onto Adam’s bed, which was covered in books and clothes. Velvet, thinking this was some kind of new game, jumped on top of him. For a few minutes, dog and boy tussled in a mixture of yells and barks, while books and clothes flew off the bed. Then Justin pushed Velvet away.
“That’s enough, Velvet. I surrender. Phew, you need to floss,” he panted.
He flopped back against the pillows, his arms behind his head, and whooped with excitement. Justin had recently turned thirteen, a fact he felt made him not only older but also wiser than his cousin. Both boys had flaming red hair and masses of freckles. They looked so alike that people often mistook them for brothers. However, there were differences. Justin’s eyes were a deep blue; Adam’s were nut brown. Adam was lean and wiry, and built small for his age; Justin was taller and stockier. They went to the same school in Durban, a seaport city on the east coast of South Africa, but Justin was in a higher grade. Both boys liked sports and played in the school cricket and rugby teams. They were also good students, preferring history and science to everything else. Their teachers had agreed to let the boys take time off from school on the condition that they wrote a daily report of what they saw in Egypt, and at the end of the trip each present a talk to his history class.
Justin let out another whoop. “All set to go?”
Adam wrinkled his brow. “I guess so. But I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”
“Don’t worry. Aunt Isabel says if we don’t have it, then we’ll just have to get it when we reach Cairo. Wow, I’m so excited. I still can’t believe we’re going. Aren’t you glad to get out of school?”
“Actually,” Adam admitted, “the best part is getting away from Wilfred and his bunch of creeps.” Wilfred Smythe was the school bully who picked on Adam whenever he could.
“Is it that bad?” Justin had no problems with the beastly Wilfred because of his bigger build and his expertise with his slingshot.
“It’s bad.” Adam sounded miserable. “He rubs my face in the sand and calls me a little freckled rat. And it’s only first term. How am I going to survive a whole year?”
Justin was indignant. “You should tell your dad.”
“I can’t. I want my dad to know I can do things myself.” Adam shrugged. “Anyway, let’s not talk about it. I don’t have to think about that skunk Wilfred for at least a week.”
Adam stared at his cousin. Justin was wearing two bush hats, sunglasses, and a splodge of sunscreen on his freckled nose. That’s not to mention the several layers of khaki clothes. Adam was wearing more or less the same thing, just not so much of it.
“Why are you wearing all that stuff? We haven’t even left yet.”
“I’m prepared for the desert and this is the latest gear. Anyway, I nearly didn’t make it.” Justin heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes. “All because of my slingshot. There was a … um … very unfortunate incident with another smashed window next door. The neighbors complained to my parents even though I apologized. It was touch-and-go with Mom.”
He waved the handsome culprit in front of Adam. “I’m bringing it with me. State-of-the-art weaponry.”
Adam was impressed. “That’s so cool.”
His uncle’s voice echoed through the house. “Come on, guys. We’re going to be late. We must leave for the airport now.”
“Coming, Dad!” Justin yelled. He leaped off the bed. “Ready?”
“In a minute,” Adam said. “I want to say good-bye to Velvet.”
“Okay.” Justin raced down the stairs, jumping over the last few steps.
Adam sat on his rucksack. Velvet pushed her wet nose into his hand. He looked down at her mournful brown eyes and stroked her sleek head.
“Be a good dog while I’m gone adventuring, okay?” he whispered. Velvet whined and thumped her tail on the floor.
Ever since his aunt’s invitation to spend a week with her and Gran in Egypt, Adam had dreamed of pyramids, camels, treasure, and golden desert sands. He longed with all his heart to have an adventure and to make an amazing discovery. He wanted to be somebody special, to do something so fantastic that everyone would want to be him. Looking up at the familiar poster on his bedroom wall, he saw the three famous pyramids at Giza under a burnt orange sky, with camels silhouetted on the distant horizon. His heart pounded.
That’s where we’ll be tomorrow. That’s where something incredible will happen, I just know it.
His father came back into the room. “Nervous?”
“A little,” Adam confessed, looking pale. In fact, he was terrified. He’d never been on a plane before. He knelt down and hugged Velvet.
“Look after Velvet for me, Dad,” he said. Then he picked up his rucksack and thundered down the stairs, yelling, “Egypt, here we come!”
At the airport, the boys’ mothers fussed over last-minute details while their fathers checked tickets, passports, and luggage for the umpteenth time.
Adam’s mother reminded him about his journal. “Remember, Adam, it’s part of the agreement with the school because you’ll miss a few days. Miss Briggs wants a daily record of your activities, including some drawings of the monuments to show you learned something from this trip.”
“Sure thing, Mom,” he said. Adam enjoyed drawing and was good at it so that part of Miss Briggs’ instruction was easy.
Justin’s mother checked his medical kit. Frowning, she inspected each bottle. “Let me see. You’ve got headache pills, runny-tummy pills, motion sickness pills, Band-Aids, ointment, and mosquito repellent.”
She looked at Justin with an anxious expression. “Do you want to take the motion sickness tablets now, dear?”
“Mom, please don’t fuss,” Justin grumbled, embarrassed by the attention. “I’m not even on the plane yet. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
The plan was for the boys to fly to Johannesburg, a bustling city about two hundred and fifty miles away, meet up with their aunt and grandmother, and then catch the evening plane to Cairo. After trying to dodge hugs and kisses from their parents, the boys were relieved when a smiling flight attendant took charge of them. Their mothers sniffed and wiped their eyes.
“I hate it when Mom gets all emotional,” Adam whispered to his cousin.
“Mine cried at the school concert,” Justin whispered back in disgust. “It was awful.”
They walked across the tarmac with the flight attendant, trying to appear relaxed. The plane looked enormous. It seemed very high off the ground as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. They were glad when the flight attendant finally checked their seat belts. Adam gritted his teeth and clutched the arms of his seat. His stomach churned with fear and excitement at the sound of the wheels rumbling and the engines screeching. When the plane began to move it felt as though a giant hand was pushing them back in their seats. At last, they were airborne and on their way.
“I wonder what Aunt Isabel is like now,” Justin said.
Adam was puzzled. “What do you mean? We talk on the phone to her all the time.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t actually seen her for ages. The last time was when we all got together for Gran’s birthday. That was about a year ago. Another thing, Aunt Isabel usually travels alone because she’s always researching some story. I wonder why she asked us to come this time.”
“Who cares?” replied his cousin. “I’m glad she did. I’ve never been away before, like on a major expedition.”
Their unconventional Aunt Isabel was a journalist who jetted all over the world researching incredible stories. She was famous for never remembering birthdays until at least six months later and then sending fantastic presents to make up for it. The boys were rather in awe of their green-eyed, auburn-haired, unusual aunt who—when she was home—lived in an amazing old house filled with antiques and lots of animals, namely, four cats, two dogs, and a rather fierce Mallard duck called Charlemagne.
“Do you think she’s changed?” Justin’s forehead crinkled in a slight frown.
“Adults don’t really change,” Adam said with a knowing look. “They just get older. But I think she’ll be exactly the same as always.” He pulled a face. “Strict!”
Their aunt had arranged for a cab to collect the boys from the airport and drop them off at her house. When they arrived, Isabel’s housekeeper let the boys in. Isabel was out with their grandmother because Gran had insisted on a hairdo before the trip, so the boys were on their own.
Their aunt’s home was the most fascinating place they’d ever seen with wooden floors, decorated ceilings, stained glass windows, and lots of antique furniture. Their careful footsteps echoed as they explored the rooms with Toby and Fergus, Isabel’s two scruffy terriers, pattering behind them.
Looking around in awe, Justin said, “This is amazing.” He stopped in front of another door. “What’s in here?”
They walked into a study with tall bookshelves covering the walls. Several volumes lay open on the desk. Their aunt seemed to be busy with some kind of research. Given her line of work, this was not surprising. Adam saw a small brown object holding down the pages of a book. He picked it up.
“Hey, look at this! It’s a carved scarab.”
Justin was already absorbed in an album of old photographs. He looked up, and then walked over to Adam and took the scarab from his hand. He stuck out his chest and posed with his hands on his hips.
“Now pay attention, boys. Let us examine the Egyptian scarab,” he said pompously, just like his history teacher Mr. Sanders. “Scarabaeus. The scarab beetle was sacred to the ancient Egyptians.”
“Goodness me,” came a familiar voice from the doorway. “That’s impressive. I’m glad you’re coming along. Justin, you can be our guide.”
Both boys yelled, “Aunt Isabel!” and flung themselves into her arms.
“Steady on!” Their aunt laughed as she staggered back under their combined weight. “You’ll knock Gran over. She’s right behind me.”
The boys were relieved to see that their aunt hadn’t changed a bit. She was still dainty and pretty, with sparkling green eyes and masses of wavy auburn hair. She hugged them both before turning them over to their grandmother’s warm embrace.
The entire family considered Gran rather eccentric but the boys thought she was great. Gran loved bright red nail polish and lots of jewelry, and she constantly changed her hairstyle. Today she had a smart new look in a dark mahogany color with blonde highlights.
Justin whistled his approval. “Gran, I love the streaks.”
Adam agreed. “Yeah, Gran. You don’t look like a granny at all.”
Their grandmother patted her hair, looking satisfied. “Thank you, my dears. That’s what I like to hear.”
Isabel looked the cousins up and down as if seeing them for the first time. “My goodness. You’ve both grown so much, I hardly recognize you. Now, are we all set for Egypt?”
“I’ll get the tea.” Gran bustled off in the direction of the kitchen with Toby and Fergus trotting hopefully after her.
“Don’t forget the cake, Gran!” Justin called out as their grandmother disappeared from view.
Pointing to the open books, Adam asked, “Are you writing another article, Aunt Isabel?”
“Perhaps I am.” Isabel had a mysterious expression on her face. “Maybe something on this Scottish archaeologist.” She pointed to her desk where a newspaper lay open, half-hidden beneath the books.
“What archaeologist?” the boys chorused. They loved hearing about how their aunt came up with interesting stories. Many of her articles had won her top awards for journalism.
As soon as Justin read the bold headline—“Controversial Archaeologist Sticks to Legend Claim”—he grabbed the newspaper. “That’s the guy who says there was an ancient Egyptian ruler called the … um … something king—I forget the name—and that there’s treasure still hidden away in a tomb somewhere.”
“The Scarab King,” Adam broke in. “Miss Briggs read us the article in history class.”
“Well,” Isabel said, “it’s an interesting theory, but none of the experts have found any important reference to this king. Looks as if he’s on a wild goose chase.”
Gran appeared in the doorway to summon them to tea. “What’s this about a goose, a scarab, and a king?”
Justin put on an air of importance as he explained. “Gran, we just did Egypt in history class. It was so interesting because there was a big article in the local newspaper about this archaeologist James Kinnaird and his controversial theories.”
“What’s contro—controv—?” Adam asked.
“It means he says what he thinks,” Isabel replied.
Adam was confused. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
“Well,” his aunt murmured, “I suppose it depends who you’re talking to.”
Gran put her hands on her hips and then raised her eyebrows. “I’m just an old lady who doesn’t know anything so will somebody please explain.”
Isabel replied, “James Kinnaird is a Scottish archaeologist who’s always off on some fantastical quest or other. He says he’s made a sensational discovery about ancient Egypt that will rewrite history.”
She walked over to her desk and flipped open a large book, riffling through the pages until she found a map of ancient Egypt. “Come and look at this. Then it’ll be clearer.”
The boys and Gran clustered around the desk.
“As we know,” Isabel continued, “Egypt was once divided into two parts, Upper and Lower Egypt. It’s plainly marked here.”
“I know,” Justin interrupted. “The two Egypts were united by a king called Menes, I think. And that’s when they started recording history and the Egyptian dynasties for the first time, right?”
“That’s quite right, Justin. However, Mr. Kinnaird believes the Scarab King lived long before that time. Not much is known about him, but there seems to be some sort of popular legend about his treasure. It would be a major archaeological scoop for whoever found it. It would make a great story for the newspapers as well.”
Isabel smiled at her nephews’ eager faces. “About a year or two ago, James Kinnaird made this his quest, just about demanding that the Egyptian government allow him to search for the Scarab King’s tomb. He managed to ruffle so many official Egyptian feathers that he was almost deported. It’s rather strange he’s been so insistent.”
“I thought the Egyptians were keen to dig up stuff from the past,” Gran remarked.
“Yes, I’m sure they are,” Isabel said, closing the book, “but recently there have been an extraordinary number of thefts of valuable artifacts from archaeological digs. Artifacts are being smuggled out of Egypt at an alarming rate. Mr. Kinnaird has pointed fingers at certain people in high positions in the Egyptian government, almost accusing them of stealing.”
“Hey,” Adam said, “this is a chance to look for treasure ourselves. We could make a discovery that’ll go down in history. We could be famous.”
Justin scoffed at him. “What rot! If experienced guys like that archaeologist can’t find anything, how do you expect us to? Anyway, we’ll be on a tour. We can’t just go off and look for things.”
Adam glared at his cousin. “I don’t know how, but anything can happen in Egypt.” He hated feeling put down like that. Justin could be quite mean at times.
Then Adam beamed hopefully at his aunt. “We could have an adventure, Aunt Isabel. Just a small one.”
“Tea’s getting cold,” Gran announced. “And I’m starving. Enough talking. Let’s eat.”
They trooped into the dining room. While the boys began munching their way through a heap of pastries, their grandmother asked Isabel, “What’s happening now with this Kinnaird fellow and his dig?”
“That’s the odd thing.” Isabel poured tea into cups that were sitting on the table. “He was on a dig somewhere in the desert. All hush-hush of course because he didn’t want anybody to know where. He used to send weekly reports to his London office, but recently there’s just been silence. No one has heard from his base camp in over a month.”
“Maybe he’s moved onto another dig,” Adam suggested, licking a large blob of custard from his pastry. A wet nose nudged his leg. Then another wet nose nudged his other leg. He looked down to see Toby and Fergus gazing at him with hungry eyes. Adam surreptitiously dropped a few crumbs under the table.
“No, he seems to have just vanished,” his aunt said, handing round the full teacups.
“He could have been sick,” Justin mumbled with his mouth stuffed full. He swallowed and then coughed. Bits of cake flew out of his mouth. He hastily dusted the crumbs off the table.
“Oops, sorry! I mean, isn’t anyone going to look for him?”
“How?” Isabel raised her eyebrows. “The desert is so huge it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Mr. Kinnaird was rather silly not to let the authorities know where he was going. Secrecy is one thing, but stupidity is another.”
“There’s definitely something fishy going on,” Gran decided. “I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. Mr. Kinnaird sounds like an experienced archaeologist to me. Foul play, that’s what I say.”
“Oh, Mother.” Isabel heaved a sigh. “You’ve been reading too many detective novels again.”
“Truth, as everyone knows,” Gran huffed, “is stranger than fiction. How do you think writers dream up their plots? They just write about what people really do.”
Adam’s eyes gleamed. A lost archaeologist and a gang of smugglers. Could this be an adventure already?
His aunt saw the look of excitement on Adam’s face.
“Just forget it,” she warned him. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re not looking for trouble, lost archaeologists, or hidden treasure. We’re going on a nice safe tour with nice safe people and that’s all. Adventures only happen in books.”
We’ll see, Adam thought. Anything can happen in Egypt.
Chapter 2: Egypt at Last
Finally, it was time for the night flight to Cairo. The next two hours were a flurry of luggage, passports, and check-ins. Now on their second flight, the boys felt like regular travelers.
The next morning they awoke to the Egyptian sun blazing into the plane. Scrambling to the nearest window, they saw puffy clouds like huge blobs of cotton wool drifting past. As the plane descended, the sprawling city of Cairo spread out beneath them. The Nile lazily undulated like a giant serpent slithering through the desert, the sun glittering on its green surface. Far beyond the city, the vast desert disappeared into haze.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Justin breathed. “It’s awesome.”
“It’s like a dream.” Adam pressed his nose against the glass. “I wonder what we’ll discover.” These last words he mumbled to himself because he didn’t want Justin to laugh at him again.
The plane bumped down, rumbling as it slowed to a halt. It was six in the morning, but the sun shone as brightly as it did at midday back home. The boys emerged from the plane, blinking from the near-blinding light.
Once they were inside the grimy airport building, a short plump Egyptian trotted up to them, waving a sign that read Ramesside Tours. He bowed, introduced himself as Abdul the tour representative, and led them over to a small group of people. A tall, stooped man, who was bald except for sparse tufts of sandy hair around his ears, approached Isabel. He introduced himself as Brigadier Brice-Gibbons.
The boys became interested when they heard the word ‘brigadier.’
“Our great-grandfather saw action in North Africa in World War Two,” Adam said proudly. “Were you there as well, sir?”
The brigadier smiled as he shook their hands. “Pleased to meet you both,” he said in a clipped English accent. “Delighted to make the acquaintance of two well-mannered young men who actually know there was a Second World War.”
Justin said, “We both enjoy history at school. I really like military history. Battles and stuff like that.”
“Really? That’s wonderful.” The old man beamed. “I can tell you boys such stories—”
“Not now, Frederick!” A plump, middle-aged woman with a flushed face interrupted him. She bustled up to the trio, fanning herself with a wide-brimmed hat. She grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a pile of luggage.
“No one wants to hear about your war stories,” she scolded.
The brigadier looked over his shoulder and winked at the two boys. They grinned back.
“Frederick,” the woman instructed, “please find my traveling case. I’m feeling rather faint. I’m sure it’s time for my pills.”
“Of course, Amaryllis,” he said meekly. “Right away, my dear.”
Isabel tried to hide her smile. “Come on, boys. We can meet everyone else later.”
Abdul, clucking behind them like an anxious hen, then whisked everyone to passport control where a tubby customs official gazed sternly from his little cubicle. His uniform was so tightly fastened over his protruding stomach that the buttons strained, ready to pop off. He perched on a high, rather wobbly stool that looked as if it might topple over at any second. He had a round pudding face with little black eyes like raisins. A thin mustache balanced above his upper lip, wriggling up and down when he spoke. It reminded Adam of a caterpillar clinging to a leaf in a strong breeze. The man examined Adam’s passport for a few minutes and then peered over the counter, staring down at the boy. Adam stared back, his gaze unwavering.
In stilted English the man asked, “Why do you come to Egypt?”
Before his aunt could reply, Adam narrowed his eyes, stuck out his chin, and retorted, “For an adventure and to find treasure.”
The official raised his eyebrows and then exploded with laughter. As he wobbled on his rickety perch, his huge tummy shook like an enormous blob of jelly. He slapped his chubby thigh and shouted something in Arabic to another official. They howled with mirth as the tour group watched in surprise.
Pointing to Adam’s passport, the man chuckled, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “But little boy, here it says, ‘too young to sign.’ I think maybe you are too young for adventure.”
He shook his head, still sniggering. “Anyway, there is no more treasure to find. You must go to the Egyptian Museum to see treasure. Good-bye.”
With that, he stamped Adam’s passport. Outside on the busy street, the sun blazed down. A nervous Abdul was counting the pieces of luggage he unpacked from the baggage trolley and trying to herd everyone onto the tour bus at the same time.
“You can takka the smoll baks with you on bus,” he screeched, “but no beeg sootkis.”
Meanwhile, the bus driver was loading suitcases into the stowage compartment under the bus while quarrelling with Mrs. Brice-Gibbons, who demanded to have her suitcase on the bus with her.
A loud argument erupted, which was surprising since Mrs. Brice-Gibbons didn’t speak Arabic and the driver only knew the English words Yes, No, and Hello.
“Aunt Isabel,” Adam said hotly, “that was so humiliating about my passport. It was a mistake my not signing it. Anyway, I am old enough to have an adventure and there is treasure left to discover in Egypt.”
Their aunt was too busy helping Gran onto the bus and collecting bags and water bottles to pay him much attention.
“Please don’t bother me now, Adam.” She sounded annoyed. “This is not the moment for hurt pride. We’ve just arrived and everything’s chaotic.”
Isabel hauled their rucksacks out from under a pile of suitcases. She thrust them into the boys’ hands. “These can go on the bus with you. Let’s get on board.”
Mrs. Brice-Gibbons, having lost the argument with the driver, heaved herself onto the bus in a horrible temper. She waddled down the aisle to the rear where the brigadier sat peacefully reading his guidebook. As she pushed past the cousins, she glared at them. Her eyes had a spiteful glint and her face crinkled into a mask of displeasure.
She thumped down next to her husband. “Small children,” she muttered with a disgusted snort. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”
Justin and Adam opened their mouths in protest at being called small children, but their aunt’s stern look and warning shake of the head silenced them. Isabel seated the boys together and then looked at them with a serious expression.
“Now what must you remember about travelling in a foreign country?”
The cousins rolled their eyes at each other and recited: “Behave as a visitor in a foreign country and respect the people and their customs; carry your own water and don’t drink out the tap. If we get lost, we must find a policeman and tell him the name of our hotel which is the Sherbourne.”
“Yes, well done,” said their aunt. “You’re both quite old enough to know how to behave.”
“What happens if we misbehave?” asked Justin with mischievous grin.
“Simple. I just won’t invite you away again,” was her sharp reply.
“Fair enough.” Justin sank back in his seat and looked at his aunt with renewed respect. “I was just kidding, you know.”
His grandmother turned to him and whispered, “Remember that your aunt has very firm ideas on children’s behavior since she doesn’t have any of her own.”
Justin pulled a face. “I can see that!”
Adam put his hand over his mouth to stifle his sniggers. “Looks like I was right,” he whispered, poking Justin in the ribs. “Strict!”
On the bus, a young Egyptian woman with shoulder-length black hair introduced herself as Laila, their tour guide. Laila was about twenty-five with a friendly face and laughing brown eyes. She was slim and tanned, dressed in khakis and sturdy boots. Adam giggled when Justin whispered that she was pretty but he thought so too. Laila handed out bottles of water, reminding everyone to drink plenty of liquids and to wear hats and sunscreen at all times. Their first stop was Memphis and then on to the ancient Step Pyramid at Saqqara.
The streets of Cairo were crowded with vehicles and people. Those who weren’t walking were loaded onto buses, cars, and bicycles. There were even a few camels stepping carefully through the busy traffic.
“Look!” Isabel pointed to a donkey cart. “You won’t see that back home.”
The ever-present shimmering Nile snaked through the city, its riverbanks lined with luxurious hotels and shops, and elaborate mosques topped with tall minarets. There were also familiar sights of residences surrounded by trees, lawns, and flower gardens. Away from the river, heading out of Cairo to the desert, the streets became dirty and the buildings were shabby.
The boys had grown tired of looking out the window now and, relaxing in their seats, inspected the other passengers. Gran and Aunt Isabel sat in the front just behind the driver, with Adam and Justin seated behind them. Laila sat opposite the driver. The brigadier and his wife sat in the back row where the boys could hear her loud complaints about how fast the bus was traveling. Across the aisle from Gran and Isabel’s seats was a slim, fair-haired woman in her forties. Next to her sat a pretty girl of about sixteen with blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. The girl had a snooty expression. Gran told them the woman was a Russian doctor named Alexa Polievna and the girl was her daughter Tatiana. Tatiana glanced briefly at the boys. Then she tossed her head, paying them no further attention. Behind the boys sat a stocky woman in a tracksuit, accompanied by an elderly woman who drifted in and out of sleep. The stocky woman appeared to be in her fifties, with short brown hair, blue-rimmed glasses, and a warm smile.
She extended her hand over the seat to them. “Hello there. My name’s Rita.”
Her English accent was so broad that the cousins had difficulty understanding her at first. She shook their hands with a firm grip as they introduced themselves, and then patted the shoulder of the elderly woman next to her. “This is my mum Elsie.”
Elsie, who looked like an older version of Rita, opened her eyes halfway, gave a sleepy smile, and mumbled something about jet lag before dozing off again.
“What are you kids doing on a tour with us oldies?” Rita asked.
“We’re cousins. My aunt is an investigative journalist,” Justin said. He pointed to where Gran and Isabel sat. “She and my Gran thought it would be an excellent idea if we learned about Egypt firsthand.”
Rita nodded. “So lucky at your age. I’ve had to wait this long to come visit the old Sphinx and the pyramids.”
Comfortable with such a friendly person, Adam leaned over the back of his seat, smiling at Rita.
“Do you know,” he whispered, “it’s still possible to find treasure in Egypt.”
“Really?” Rita’s kind expression turned serious. “If there is then I bet you two will be the ones to find it.”
“You don’t think it’s stupid to imagine something like that?” Adam asked.
“Not at all.” Rita shook her head emphatically. “You’re in Egypt. This is a remarkable place. Anything can happen and when it does you boys just go for it.”
The cousins were astonished. Adam was the most surprised. Perhaps his idea of finding treasure was not just all in his imagination.
As they neared the countryside, Cairo faded behind them into the distance. The ride grew bumpier, with the bus bouncing over rocks and occasionally veering to avoid camels and donkey carts. It was so sweltering that even with air-conditioning their clothes stuck to their skin. Tarred streets disappeared and the occasional clutches of houses gave way to flat-roofed brick dwellings scattered higgledy-piggledy alongside the dusty road. Men strolled along wearing long robes Laila said were called galabiehs. Women in traditional cotton robes and colored headscarves bustled about, giving the impression they did most of the work. A thick blanket of brown dust lay everywhere. There were no gardens or flowerbeds, just an occasional tree on the edge of the canals running parallel to the road. The canals led to patchy green fields on each side. Jolted up and down by the bus, the boys gawked at the countryside so different from their own.
Justin leaned forward in his seat to attract his aunt’s attention. “Aunt Isabel, it all looks so barren. There’s no grass. No shopping malls, no swimming pools.”
Laila sat down on a seat opposite them. “No, none of those luxuries out here, I’m afraid. Grass would be unusual as well. Egypt is mostly desert, except for the Nile Delta and the small strip of cultivated land running alongside the riverbanks. Some time on this trip you’ll get to see how the desert often comes right up to the edge of the Nile.”
She laughed at their surprised faces. “And swimming pools? You’ll find that kind of luxury only in the wealthier parts of Cairo itself. There are some very poor areas in Egypt. If you lived out here you’d be one of maybe twelve children, probably working in the fields with your parents.”
Justin and Adam looked horrified at the idea of working in the fields.
“Why aren’t they in school?” Adam asked.
“Because a child in school is not making any money for the family,” Laila replied. “Most of the peasant farmers in the countryside have never been to school. In the cities there is more opportunity for education, but out here it’s almost unheard of.”
Laila smiled at their shocked expressions. “You take going to school for granted. You are really very privileged.”
“These guys seem to have a pretty hard life,” Justin said.
Laila seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Life is not easy for the Egyptian people, but they do not complain. In the cities you find some very rich people … in the countryside you find mostly the very poor.”
“Is that like in ancient Egypt, when the pharaohs were very rich and the people were very poor?” Justin asked.
Laila shook her head. “Not quite. In ancient times, the pharaoh was a god, a divine being, a father to his people. He was also responsible for their well-being in times of famine and war.”
“Have you heard the legend of the Scarab King?” Adam thought that Laila, of all people, would know about the tale.
“Yes, I have. It’s a charming story, but I don’t think scholars take it all that seriously.”
“But there’s a Scottish archaeologist who does,” Justin persisted. “His name’s James Kinnaird. He has some really interesting theories about it.”
Laila smiled at him. “I’ve read about your archaeologist, but he hasn’t produced a single piece of real evidence yet of the king or the treasure. So, as you say in English, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She pinched Justin gently on the cheek. Then Laila caught a glimpse of something he was rolling between his fingers. “What’s this?”
Justin held it up. “It’s my aunt’s miniature scarab. I think she must have visited Egypt before. Aunt Isabel is a journalist so she’s been all over the world.”
Laila took the scarab from him and turned it over to examine its underside. “It’s very unusual. You must take good care of it. It’s called a ‘cippi.’”
“What’s a sea pea?” Adam asked, trying to pronounce the foreign-sounding word.
“A cippi is a kind of amulet for protection.” Laila pointed to the markings on the underside. “See here? Now this is a simplified version of a spell for protection. Magical power is supposed to be contained in these hieroglyphics. It will save someone’s life one day.”
Adam was fascinated. “Do you believe in magic, Laila?”
Laila raised her eyebrows. “Well, you have to ask yourself exactly what is magic.”
“Kerblam!” Justin shouted, pointing an imaginary wand at Adam. “Abracadabra! One toad coming up.”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Laila shook her head. “In ancient times, magic meant something different, something more intense and personal. It wasn’t the kind you read about in fairy tales where witches wave wands and turn bad people into frogs.”
She smiled at the awestruck boys. “Thousands of years ago, earth magic was part of ancient religion.” Her tone became serious, quieting the cousins who now gazed at her with solemn eyes.
“A few thousand years ago, people didn’t have the distractions we have today like computers, television sets, and cell phones. They spent a lot of time studying natural things such as the movement of the stars, the changes in seasons, and the environment. They were more in tune with the earth. Something like a meteor or an earthquake or even just thunder and lightning would be magical because they didn’t understand nature as we do today.”
“Do you think this will protect someone?” Justin asked, looking at the cippi in Laila’s hand.
“Possibly,” she said, and then her expression became unreadable. “Probably. Let’s hope it doesn’t have to.” Laila handed the cippi back to Justin and returned to her seat.
The cousins goggled at each other. Most adults didn’t believe in magic or supernatural powers, but here was one just casually talking about earth magic.
Justin and Adam put their heads together, inspecting the small brown object with renewed interest. However, apart from the few odd squiggles that Laila had pointed out on the underside, they couldn’t see anything unusual about the little beetle.
Their aunt overheard the conversation and looked behind her at the boys. “Justin, did you bring my little scarab? Please be careful with it. I’ve had it for ages and I’d hate to lose it.”
“I’ll be careful,” Justin promised. He couldn’t remember putting it in his pocket in the first place, but he must have done so because here it was. He wondered whose life it would save and how.
The bus jerked to a halt outside a museum set in a huge courtyard, surrounded by whitewashed walls. Far off on the horizon, they could see the shadowy outlines of the crumbling Step Pyramid.
“Listen up, everyone,” Laila called from the front of the bus. “This is Memphis, once the ancient capital of Lower Egypt. Sadly, not much remains of its original splendor. However, the statue of Rameses the Second in the museum is a must-see. After that, it’s a quick look at the Step Pyramid and then back to Cairo. You can explore on your own, but please remember to be back here in exactly thirty minutes.”
The bus doors opened, letting in a blast of hot air. The boys jumped down and trudged with the rest of the group to the gate leading into the museum complex. Around the entrance, grinning peddlers and street hawkers milled with their wares, waving their arms, shouting, and shoving to get the tourists’ attention. Then a group of police officers searched everyone’s belongings before letting them walk through the gate.
“Are those the Antiques Police?” Justin looked at Laila. “Aunt Isabel mentioned something about them. They look after the museums, don’t they?”
Laila nodded. “Yes, they do. Egypt has about two million visitors a year so we need a special police force just to keep tourists from vandalizing monuments or stealing artifacts.”
“I know.” Justin puffed out his chest as he announced, “Egypt has been plundered for centuries. First by grave robbers and then by explorers and archaeologists from other countries.”
Laila laughed. “Very impressive.”
“I’m something of an expert on Egypt, even if I say so myself.” Justin preened himself as he spoke.
Laila ruffled Adam’s hair. “Enjoy yourselves, boys, but no plundering.”
The tour group drifted off, leaving the cousins on their own. Ancient statues, small sphinxes, and monoliths, along with flowering potted trees adorned the courtyard surrounding the museum. Grubby stalls selling postcards, guidebooks, ornaments, and cheap souvenirs lined the edges of the courtyard. A low hedge separated the courtyard from a garden area.
Suddenly, a scruffy man in a dirty galabieh blocked their path. He grabbed Justin’s arm and tried to steer him to a stall.
“Postcard? Eye of Horus? Nice Anubis statue? Anything you want, I got it,” the man jabbered, pulling at Justin’s sleeve.
Justin shook himself free. “Please go away. I’m not buying anything and you’re bothering us.”
Just then, the boys’ aunt and grandmother wandered up. The man retreated but continued to watch them intently as they wandered over to another stall where Adam examined some carved stone scarabs.
“Look here!” He held one up. “Imagine if this had belonged to the Scarab King.”
Isabel peered closer. “These look a bit too shabby for a king. I think they’re mass-produced for tourists. I’m sure the Scarab King would have had something more elaborate, maybe in gold.”
“Do you think Mr. Kinnaird will find the lost treasure?” Justin asked.
Isabel shrugged. “Right now, it’s Mr. Kinnaird who is lost so he hasn’t done a very good job. And as for more treasure? I don’t know. People are still making discoveries, but so far King Tut’s treasure was the last great find.”
Gran shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare. “Goodness me, it’s hot. I really need to find shade.”
Isabel took Gran’s arm. “Let’s go into the museum. Are you coming, boys?”
Justin wanted to explore the courtyard first. “Later, if that’s okay. Can we look around out here?”
“You’ve got pocket money,” Isabel said, “so buy a few things you like. Don’t pay the first price they give you. You have to bargain a bit or else you’ll get cheated.”
Isabel and Gran strolled off, leaving the cousins on their own.
Chapter 3: The Peddler
The sun beat down fiercely and the air felt hot and still. Justin noticed someone hovering nearby. It was the ragged peddler who had bothered them earlier. Watching the boys, he seemed uncertain, as if he couldn’t make up his mind about something.
“Not you again! I said go away,” Justin grumbled, annoyed at being pestered.
The man scurried closer. “English?” he whined. There was a hopeful note in his voice although he kept casting anxious glances behind him.
Adam eyed him curiously. “Yes, we speak English. What do you want?”
Sensing a sympathetic person, the man scuttled over to Adam and plucked at his sleeve. His sheepish grin displayed rows of crooked teeth.
“Nice, good scarab,” he crooned. “Come see. Cheap, very cheap. You like? You like?”
“Yes,” Adam replied. “Let’s see what you have.” He turned to Justin. “He might have something interesting.”
“Okay, but only a quick look or we’ll never get rid of him. It’s probably exactly the same as the other junk we’ve seen.”
“No! No!” the man said emphatically. He leaned closer to the cousins, his dark eyes glittering. Deep lines creased the corners of his eyes. He had high cheekbones and a long nose. His weather-beaten, browned face indicated days spent outdoors under a burning sun.
“Very different. Very good. My scarab is special,” he announced with unexpected pride. His expression changed as he peered into the boys’ faces. “You are English boys, yes? English?”
“Yes!” Justin said impatiently. “We already told you. Why do you keep asking?”
“Come now. Come see.” The man’s voice became pleading. He grabbed both boys by the hands and hustled them behind a rickety stall.
Justin tried to pull away from the man’s strong grip. “What are you doing?”
At the far end of the courtyard, two police officers looked in their direction.
“Please, I beg you,” the peddler wailed, holding their hands even tighter.
Adam stopped struggling and looked closer at the man. Although his appearance was scruffy, his hands and face were quite clean.
The peddler released their hands and dug deep into the pocket of his filthy robe, producing three scarabs carved out of a bluish stone. “See! I have very good scarabs.”
Justin and Adam scrutinized the scarabs, turning them over. Each scarab was inscribed with rough hieroglyphics on the underside.
“These are cool,” Adam muttered, glancing at Justin’s face. “What do you think?”
Justin frowned. “Remember what Aunt Isabel said. Don’t look so eager or we’ll pay too much for them.”
While the boys inspected the scarabs, the man glanced over their shoulders and saw the two police officers strolling toward them. He gathered up the three scarabs, placed them in Adam’s hands, and closed the boy’s fingers over them. He then clasped both his hands over Adam’s hands and pressed them together.
“Shemsu-Hor.” His voice was hoarse. “Shemsu-Hor.”
“What?” Adam looked puzzled. “Sorry, I can’t speak Arabic.”
The peddler’s whole manner suddenly changed. He stared hard at Adam, his eyes so piercing they looked quite fierce. His voice sounded deeper and more educated.
“Shemsu-Hor. Please take it. You must take the sacred scarab. Go with blessings, Son of Fire and Light.”
Adam looked at the man in complete bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
The peddler bowed very low in front of Adam. Then he screeched in a high-pitched tone, “You like? You like? You want postcard? Wait, I will fetch. Eye of Horus, too.”
As he slipped between the boys, Adam felt the man bump against him and then watched him dart away. The two police officers broke into a trot, but the man sped on and disappeared from sight.
One of the police officers approached them. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” Adam said.
After the police officers had walked away, Adam and Justin looked at each other, puzzled.
“What a strange man!” Justin said. “What was that stuff about fire and a sacred scarab?”
“Dunno.” Adam put the scarabs into his rucksack. “Maybe it’s something to do with Rameses. But don’t you think it’s odd that the peddler gave us these scarabs instead of haggling about the price?”
“Boys!” Their aunt’s voice floated across the courtyard. She was standing at the top of the steps leading into the museum, a frown on her face.
Justin yelled over his shoulder at Adam, “Race you,” and dashed off. “Last one’s a dried-up mummy.”
Adam tore after Justin, his heels raising small clouds of dust. They pounded, panting and laughing, up to the door of the museum where a line of visitors moved slowly past a gray-green limestone statue of the great pharaoh Rameses the Second. The statue lay on its back because its huge legs were broken off below the knees, yet the mighty ruler still seemed to be striding forward. Rameses’ sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling and his carved beard jutted out imperiously. When they reached the statue, Adam and Justin gazed down at it in wonder.
“He really looks like a king,” Justin said. “It says here on this plaque that the statue was originally around forty-two feet high.”
“I bet the Scarab King would have had an even bigger statue,” Adam said firmly.
Laila spoke from behind them. “Still fascinated by the legend?”
They jumped at the sound of her voice.
“I don’t think it’s just a legend.” Adam looked steadily at Laila. “I think the Scarab King was real and the Scottish archaeologist thinks so too. That’s why he’s looking for the tomb.”
Laila gave a small laugh. “Adam, your archaeologist is wasting his time. There’s not much to go on, just a charming legend. It’s simply not enough for serious academic consideration. That’s why everyone assumes the Scarab King is just a myth, something like your King Arthur.”
Adam’s face felt hot as he protested, “But Laila, it’s possible King Arthur was a real king. My history teacher told us so.”
Laila’s smile held a hint of indulgence. “I’m not saying there wasn’t a real, historical king that may be Arthur. But you must admit, all the stuff about the Round Table, a magical sword, and the Lady of the Lake … well, it’s just a fairy tale, isn’t it?”
Justin trod on Adam’s toe. “You’re right,” he said, grinning at Laila. He turned to Adam. “Let’s get a photo of the Step Pyramid.”
Justin dragged Adam outside into the blinding sunlight.
“Don’t try to argue with adults,” he said. “You can’t win. If there’s something going on with this archaeologist guy and his discovery, then we have to work it out ourselves.”
“I guess you’re right.” Adam kicked up a little pile of dust with the toe of his boot. “But I think Laila’s putting us off, as if she doesn’t want us to find out too much about the Scarab King.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Justin scoffed. “She’s only a tour guide. Why would she want to do that? You’re just imagining things.”
The two boys shaded their eyes against the sun as they stared at the Step Pyramid in the distance. Another tour group walked past them, its members chattering in a foreign language. The rest of their own group were wandering about, peering at inscriptions, taking photos, and reading from their guidebooks.
Justin watched Tatiana, who had draped herself over a low wall and was tanning her legs. She tossed her head, flinging her shining curtain of hair back over her shoulders.
“She looks just like Anna Kournikova.”
Adam shook his head in mock disgust. “You hate tennis. Anyway, I thought you said girls were idiots.”
“Did I?” Justin had a dreamy expression on his face. “Well, maybe tennis isn’t so bad and maybe some girls are okay.”
Adam gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Come on, Romeo. Get real.”
They noticed Mrs. Brice-Gibbons perched close by on a broken pillar, fanning herself while the brigadier deciphered some hieroglyphics on a stone slab.
“It’s so hot!” she said peevishly. “The travel agent didn’t tell us it would be so hot.”
“Well, Amaryllis, this is Egypt.” The brigadier peered shortsightedly at the carvings. “You know, when I was here in forty-four ….”
“Not your old war stories again!” she snapped.
“Of course, my dear,” he said, and went back to his inscriptions.
Justin whispered, “She’s such a nag.”
The boys sniggered until their aunt poked them both in the back with a firm finger. She stared at them with such a frosty expression that they quailed and shuffled their feet in shame.
“Your Gran’s having a rest. What was all that with the peddler?”
Glad to change the subject, Adam said, “I don’t know but he gave us three scarabs.”
Isabel widened her eyes. “He did what? He gave them to you? No haggling?”
Justin shook his head and pointed to his cousin. “Not a bit. Adam’s got them.”
“Believe it or not,” Adam mumbled, digging in his rucksack. “Here they are.” He held the scarabs out in the palm of his hand.
Isabel examined them. The scarabs were carved from bluish stone with hieroglyphics scratched underneath, just like the dozens of other scarabs they’d seen in stalls that morning.
“I’m sorry to say this, but they don’t look very special to me.” She shook her head and handed them back to Adam. “These are just fakes made for tourist souvenirs.”
“But he ran away after he saw the police,” Adam protested. “He shouted something about postcards and then ran off.”
Isabel frowned. “I wonder what made him give them to you in the first place.”
Adam thought that perhaps his mention of the Scarab King had drawn the man to them. Before he could open his mouth to say so, Justin elbowed him in the ribs. Adam remembered how their aunt felt about the Scarab King and adventures. That stopped him from saying what he really thought.
“Um … I guess he thought we were going to pay any old price. Maybe he saw the police officers and they scared him off,” he said instead, glancing at Justin.
Deciding to say nothing else, Adam tucked the scarabs back into his rucksack and the threesome began to walk around and look at more stalls. After a while, they made their way back to the museum steps where they could see Gran waiting. Justin called out to his grandmother. He took a photo of her with Isabel’s camera as she smiled and waved. By now, they were tired and their clothes were sticking to their hot skin.
Isabel wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of one hand. “I’m so thirsty. Let’s get into the shade.”
Just then, an Egyptian youth dressed in black trousers and shirt ran up, and snatched the camera out of Justin’s hands. “Hello. I take picture for you?” He gestured for them to pose together.
“Now you just give it back!” Isabel snapped. “We don’t have time for games. I know that old trick. You take the photo and then you don’t return the camera until I pay you.”
The youth gestured again. “Please,” he said, smiling.
Isabel paused and then reluctantly agreed. “All right, but no nonsense, no trouble, do you understand?”
“No trouble.”
As soon as the youth had snapped their photo, Isabel held out her hand for the camera. “Thank you very much, now give it back to me.”
The young man darted away, straight into the arms of two grinning police officers. He yelped and then fell to the ground in a quivering heap of prayers and curses. Isabel and the boys rushed over.
“Give it back right now, you scoundrel,” Isabel demanded.
Hearing footsteps crunch on the gravel behind them, Isabel and the boys turned to see a tall, olive-skinned man walking toward them. He wore dark sunglasses and a white suit. His mouth was set in a hard line beneath a thin black mustache, which made him look quite sinister.
Adam felt a cold, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The man looked angry as he spoke sharply in Arabic to the officers. They stood to attention and saluted. The man held out his right hand for the camera. As he did so, Adam couldn’t help noticing a jeweled ring on his third finger. The gems sparkled in the sunlight. One of the officers retrieved the camera and handed it over. The man examined the camera briefly. Then he put it into his pocket.
Turning to Isabel, who opened her mouth in surprised protest, he bowed and said, “I apologize.” His smile was charming, a flash of dazzling white teeth. “Occasionally we get these rascals who try to cheat the tourists. However, they do not succeed. We are always alert to their tricks.”
“Thank you very much,” Isabel said in a cold voice. “Please give me the camera.”