Here is an interesting item, sealed inside this glass display casket. You may recognize it from trips to the local museum as a child – it’s an Egyptian mummy, in life a beautiful princess, but in death, a well-preserved corpse. Missing the brain and most of the other vital organs, of course, as these would have been placed in canopic jars. According to the death rites of ancient Egyptian custom, however, she was permitted to keep her heart. Perhaps that was a mistake…
‘Is this some kind of joke, Simon? Tell me it isn’t?’
Simon Mason blinked like a confused bird. ‘I’m sorry, Professor, I don’t follow you.’
Professor McDonald sighed and turned her head to look out her office window at the Ancient History Museum. The grass and the trees had a calming effect. ‘The latest radiocarbon results came back this morning, Simon. Look, I enjoy a joke as much as the next woman, but really, this is too far.’
Simon shifted in his seat awkwardly. ‘I still don’t follow you.’
She tossed a reading print-out at him. ‘Look at that. It’s the results for your precious Egyptian princess... apparently. Dennis took another sample for the lab boys so we could perhaps try and understand that last result – as if you didn’t know all this already. What’s come back from the techies is very interesting. Apparently, Nubia is dated as being five hundred years old, which is rather impressive, given she died over four thousand years ago.’
Simon gulped. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’’
‘Yes, Simon, that’s exactly what I’m doing. You switched the samples, didn’t you?’
‘No, Professor.’
‘Look, we all know about your - how should I put it - infatuation with her, but we have a right to take the occasional skin and cloth sample for testing!’
‘I don’t disagree in principle with radiocarbon dating,’ Simon said quietly, silently annoyed that he had a reputation. ‘But Nubia is precious. There’s so little of her left, without Dennis going around stealing his pound of flesh.’
‘It’s a few millimetres squared, hardly a pound - Ah, so you admit it then? You switched the sample with something more modern as what, a joke? A protest?’
He considered what he’d just learned before answering. ‘The last sample dated her as being five hundred years old this time?’
Professor McDonald nodded her big head. ‘You know it did. And it was a thousand in the earlier test, which we wrote off as a mistake rather than anything sinister. I expect you were behind that as well, weren’t you? What did you swap the latest sample with, Simon? Something from one of the Tudor exhibits?’
Simon gripped the arms of the chair he was sat on. A lie might be better than the truth here, he realised. ‘Say I did do that…as a prank against Dennis… what does it matter? It’s just a silly test.’ It was the best he could come up with.
‘Oh Simon!’ McDonald exclaimed, like a disappointed mother. ‘And you were so bright and promising at one stage. A fellow History Lover – or so I thought. And now this. What has happened to you, Simon? What exactly has Nubia done to you?’
…
Sometime previously.
The artist’s brush stroked the canvas one final time and both Simon and the artist took a step back to admire the handiwork. ‘What do you think?’ the Artist asked. ‘Really? Have I captured her?’
Simon looked into the eyes of the artist’s reconstruction of the face of the great Nubia and swooned. ‘Oh yes,’ he answered finally. ‘That’s lovely. She’s just as beautiful as I imagined.’
The artist, a student called Kylie, grinned at the compliment. ‘I’m so pleased. It’s very difficult to look at the face of a corpse and decide from that what the person might have looked at in life. But with Nubia, it all seemed too easy. Like I could see her spirit.’
Simon raised an eyebrow, alarmed. ‘You couldn’t though? See her spirit?’
Kylie laughed. ‘No, of course not! Anyway, how about that drink you promised me?’
He frowned. He’d promised no such thing, of course, but recognized what was being offered. ‘Well, maybe some other time,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m on night shifts at the moment, so socialising is a bit difficult. We’re short staffed due to government cuts, and someone’s got to guard this place when we’re closed.’
She patted him on the shoulder. ‘Poor you. So dedicated to your work,’ she washed her brushes and started to pack up. ‘Well, if you change your mind, you’ve got my number, right?’
Simon was lost in the eyes of Nubia. At last – something tangible he could look at, even if it was simply a portrait. He became aware that Kylie was waiting for an answer. ‘What? Or, er, yes. Right.’
…
The museum closed at five thirty exactly as Simon had successfully shooed away the last little band of tourists at five twenty five. He then waited at the front door for the rest of the staff to leave, tapping his foot impatiently.
‘Goodnight, Simon,’ Professor McDonald waved as she hurried out. The Professor was always first to arrive at the museum in the morning, and last to leave at night.
‘Goodnight, Professor,’ he returned.
‘You’ll look after the place while I’m gone, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will.’
…
It was on nights like this, when they were alone, that Nubia spoke to him.
The first time, he’d thought he was going crazy. A four thousand-year-old princess, talking to him telepathically? Perhaps he’d been working too hard. He ignored the voice at first, which was a grave mistake, as Nubia was highly offended. As a Princess, she demanded, no, expected to be obeyed at all times. As was her right.
‘Your majesty?’ he thought towards the decaying brown shape inside the glass display cabinet. ‘Will you speak with me again?’
The blaze of colour and chorus of angles in his head heralded her return to him.
‘Simon – my love,’ she expressed such warmth in her shared thoughts. ‘One is so pleased to blend with you once more.’
His mouth twisted into a dopey grin. ‘I’ve missed you too.’
Her invisible arms embraced him, and he felt the imagined warmth of her body press against him. Then the spirit withdrew. ‘You do not long for me as much as usual, Simon,’ she stated. ‘You have been worshipping that false idol of me in my place, have you not?’
He glanced worriedly over to Kylie’s painting, which had been positioned next to the exhibit. Dennis’s idea. ‘This portrait was made in honour of you, my love,’ he mentally explained. ‘I thought you would be pleased?’
The cold silence told him otherwise. Eventually, Nubia responded in thought with a command. ‘You must only direct your love towards me, Simon. You know how your spark enriches me. Fill me again with your love so that I might grow stronger still, then I will live and walk again!’
He slid the glass cover away from the mummified remains and gently placed it to one side before standing over the body.
‘I will obey,’ he confirmed, and the next moments were lost in lust.
…
Another night.
‘Who was that little man who took from me?’ Nubia was angry. Simon hated it when she was angry. It frightened him.
‘You mean, Dennis?’ He guessed. ‘He took a sample from you earlier, for analysis. We only want to understand you, majesty.’
‘Sample? What is sample? What is analysis? He has no right to take the royal flesh. I was growing stronger until he took from me. I am now... less whole. Now you must replenish the regrowth that has been lost, Simon. Do you understand?’
He loosened his belt. ‘I am your servant, majesty.’
…
Another night.
‘I regret this must be the last time we… er see each other for a while, majesty,’ he prepared for the worst.
‘Explain.’
‘The man, Dennis, is suspicious of what happens here at night. If I get caught…’
‘He will be dealt with.’
Simon wondered what that meant exactly but kept the question away from the forefront of his mind. ‘There is another matter, majesty. The samples came back today. They show that the ravages of time on your body are being reversed.’
‘This is excellent,’ she replied. ‘Your spark renews me, as foretold.’
‘Questions will be asked, majesty.’
She screamed. ‘Questions? Questions? Who dares question Nubia?’
Simon cowered. ‘I am sorry, majesty. But what we’re doing may be put at risk.’ He dropped to his knees, whimpering at the psychic assault she subjected him to.
The storm of anger came to a head and died. She reached out with invisible fingers and caressed her servant. ‘You are wise, Simon. We must be cautious. My love for you grows stronger with my flesh, and I fear I am not reasoning intelligently. We must be patient.’
‘Yes, your majesty,’ he confirmed, relieved. ‘You are most wise, majesty.’
…
Another night, a week later.
Replenishment given, Simon zipped up his fly and then reached and picked up the glass cover, moving it back into place over the mummy.
‘Must you cage me so soon after our rapture?’ she asked him.
‘I apologise, majesty. It has been a while for us, has it not? Did I satisfy you?’
She let him wait for an answer. ‘You did. I grow ever stronger through your loving.’
He clapped his hands, joyfully. ‘Oh good!’ His mind turned to other worries. ‘Majesty, we spoke before of the man Dennis. Today he is quite sick, majesty. We don’t expect him back at the museum for many days…. Was this… your doing?’
It could just have been coincidence of course, but he felt that she was smiling. ‘A taste of my growing power. See that you don’t disappoint me, Simon, lest even worse happen to you.’
…
Another night, another week later.
‘My return to life is but days away, Simon. I feel my strength growing due to your worship. I am drawing ever closer to your present day.’
He nodded. ‘My only wish is to please you, majesty.’
‘One is most pleased. I should like to kiss you with my own lips, to love you physically as you do to me. It will happen soon.’
Simon shivered in anticipation. ‘I long for it, majesty. But I have some bad news…’
He waited for her nod to continue. ‘I suspect that Dennis may take more samples from you, majesty. The others at the museum are concerned about the changes happening to your… your royal body. The test results revealed that you appear to be getting… well, younger.’
‘Every part of me taken away sets back my return to life. You must not allow further ‘samples’, Simon. Do you understand?’
‘I… understand, majesty.’
…
‘Dennis should never have taken the second sample.’ Simon explained patiently, hoping he was keeping control of his fear he had failed his majesty. ‘It was quite unnecessary.’
Back in the present, Professor McDonald glanced out of the window again. The weather was changing, grey clouds were starting to creep across the sky. A lovely day about to be ruined. ‘That may be so, but we still have the matter of this ‘joke’ to deal with. Radiocarbon dating tests are expensive, you know.’
‘The person responsible could offer to pay for it out of their wages,’ he offered quickly.
McDonald shook her head. ‘It’s not just that. Your whole attitude towards the Egyptian exhibit is a cause for concern. This little ‘prank’ of yours is the straw that broke the camel’s back, I’m afraid. I’ve been under pressure from the board to lose a member of staff. This has sealed it. It has to be you, I’m afraid, Simon.’
He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
‘Clear your desk, please. Your last day is today.’
The idea of not being able to spend time with Nubia any longer pained him. No more blaze of colour, no more heavenly chorus.
‘You’ll be paid until the end of the month, of course. Are you listening, Simon?’
He imagined the anger of his Egyptian princess. Her plan to regenerate set back and her lover denied her. Perhaps she would find another source of life? Of love?
Dennis? The idea of it turned his stomach.
‘Simon? Are you listening to me?’
‘I… there’s something I need to tell you.’ The words left his mouth, he wasn’t sure exactly where they came from, but it must have been within him. ‘I didn’t tamper with the samples. Someone else did it.’
Professor McDonald cringed. ‘Oh, do come on, Simon. There’s no use denying it.’
‘I’ve been covering for someone,’ he said quickly. ‘I… I don’t want to get him in trouble.’
‘Trouble? Whatever do you mean? If it wasn’t you, who was it?’
‘Dennis. Dennis did it. He didn’t want the lab getting samples of Nubia, so replaced them with anything else he could get his hands on.’ His mind raced. Would this lie stand up? It had to.
McDonald was suspicious. ‘But why would Dennis do that?’ she almost wanted to believe him, wanted him to provide some evidence.
‘He’s obsessed with her,’ Simon lied. ‘Absolutely obsessed. In fact, I’ve got a strong feeling he…’
‘… he what?’ the Professor gave her full attention.
‘I think he’s been interfering with the body.’
When understanding of the inference hit her, McDonald went green in the face.
Simon delivered the coup de grace. ‘He wouldn’t want them to notice any traces of… contamination, would he?’
…
The museum closed at five thirty exactly as Simon had successfully shooed away the last little band of tourists at five twenty five. He waited at the front door for the other staff to leave, tapping his foot impatiently.
‘Goodnight, Simon,’ Professor McDonald waved as she hurried out. Always the last to leave.
‘Goodnight, Professor,’ he returned.
‘I’m sorry about that misunderstanding earlier,’ she said quietly. ‘Always had my suspicions about that Dennis. He’s a bit of a weird one. All of that stuff he was saying about you – it was him doing it, all along. I’m so sorry, Simon. I’ll find some pretext to sack him tomorrow.’
Simon just smiled.
‘Thank goodness our museum – and our Egyptian princess – are safe with you!’
He nodded, and firmly locked the door behind her.
I was able to intervene before Princess Nubia’s final return to life – if that indeed was what was happening, and all of this wasn’t simply in the mind of the deviant, Simon.
He begged me not to take the mummified remains away. I love her, he wailed. This isn’t love, I told him, it’s necrophilia! I threatened him with the law, with being sectioned, and he eventually gave way, and stood aside and denied all knowledge as the mummy was ‘stolen’ from the museum.
Now it sits here, isolated for eternity. Occasionally, I think I hear her voice, calling out. But I’m fairly certain that it’s just loneliness on my part, just my own imagination. But then again… as I hope you’re coming to understand, in the Scarlet Vault, one can never be sure of anything…
