Read Online The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries by Daphne Coleridge - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daphne Coleridge
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you called us down for that Chinese takeaway, when we were looking for an easel, Floyd somehow managed to unearth an old suitcase belonging to Tom Mortimer.”
“There has been more than one Thomas Mortimer over the centuries.”
“This one was a nineteenth century Tom. There was a sketch book in there covering a trip to Egypt. It would have been in the eighteen-nineties.”
“I think there was a Thomas Mortimer who used to be a bit of an artist. There are a couple of his watercolours in the library – of Cornwall, not Egypt. I think he was the one who had a perfect fetish for knick-knacks; he used to collect Dresden shepherdesses, that sort of thing.”
“Well, he had collected an Egyptian artefact; a ring. When I looked through his writings he seemed to think that it had belonged to Nesperennub.”
“Nesperennub? I know that name. Is it from one of the Mummy films?”
Rupert smiled. “No, you remember the name from the time I dragged you around the British Museum. Nesperennub is the mummy who is famous for having been subjected to a CT scan so that his body could be examined in a non-intrusive way. He is thought to have been a priest of Amun-Ra in the temple at Karnak.”
“You said that one of the hieroglyphs on the wall in Floyd’s wall represented Amun-Ra: is someone playing games, or should I expect some of those squealing resurrected mummy things to start popping out of the windows?”
“I would be interested to know if the ring is genuine. As far as I remember, Nesperennub was discovered at Luxor at about the same time Tom was in Egypt. The fact that the mummy was sold to a curator of the British Museum suggests that someone was happy to flog the bits and pieces; at a price, no doubt.”
“But,” mused Laura, “even if this ring is genuine, you are not seriously suggesting that the discovery of it has anything to do with Floyd’s death? I know that mummy curses make for good television, but does anyone really take them seriously?”
“Lord Carnarvon may have done. He died a year after the celebrated excavation of Tutankhamun’s tomb – as a result of a mosquito bite. But you have to hand it to the ancient Egyptians, they just knew how to write a curse: “They that shall break the seal of this tomb shall meet death by a disease that no doctor can cure!” and “Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the King!” – these are quality curses. There are a host of rational explanations given, such as a deadly fungus growing in enclosed tombs and infecting those who enter. It is a case of sceptics and believers – take your pick – and perhaps belief in a curse is enough to bring a man down; that is the basis on which any good ancient gypsy curse could work.”
“Yes, but we didn’t open the tomb; so no curse and no nasty bacteria. We don’t even know what killed Floyd.”
Rupert sighed. “You are right, and I am going to have to inform Dr Lowe that he is dead. Sooner or later someone will go and find him, so it is better I sort things out quietly and tell Jinny. Like you I am a sceptic about curses – and yet I did pick up that ring pretty gingerly. Mike from Cambridge works at the British Museum; I’ll get him to look at it and see if it is genuine.”
“Who did touch the ring then: just Floyd?”
“Well, Sebastian wanted to look at it, but I’m not sure if he did, because we all came downstairs. Anyway, he is still happy, healthy and painting. I won’t panic unless he dies mysteriously too!” And with that Rupert gave his wife a fond kiss and made his way back to the house.
Laura watched Rupert go with a mixture of fondness and concern and then promptly forgot about him as she returned her interest to her pet project: Claresby Fair. It was beginning to get hot and the colourful stalls stood out on the lawns like flower blooms. Even before the arrival of villagers and other visitors, there seemed to be a lot of people about the place.
“There has been more than one Thomas Mortimer over the centuries.”
“This one was a nineteenth century Tom. There was a sketch book in there covering a trip to Egypt. It would have been in the eighteen-nineties.”
“I think there was a Thomas Mortimer who used to be a bit of an artist. There are a couple of his watercolours in the library – of Cornwall, not Egypt. I think he was the one who had a perfect fetish for knick-knacks; he used to collect Dresden shepherdesses, that sort of thing.”
“Well, he had collected an Egyptian artefact; a ring. When I looked through his writings he seemed to think that it had belonged to Nesperennub.”
“Nesperennub? I know that name. Is it from one of the Mummy films?”
Rupert smiled. “No, you remember the name from the time I dragged you around the British Museum. Nesperennub is the mummy who is famous for having been subjected to a CT scan so that his body could be examined in a non-intrusive way. He is thought to have been a priest of Amun-Ra in the temple at Karnak.”
“You said that one of the hieroglyphs on the wall in Floyd’s wall represented Amun-Ra: is someone playing games, or should I expect some of those squealing resurrected mummy things to start popping out of the windows?”
“I would be interested to know if the ring is genuine. As far as I remember, Nesperennub was discovered at Luxor at about the same time Tom was in Egypt. The fact that the mummy was sold to a curator of the British Museum suggests that someone was happy to flog the bits and pieces; at a price, no doubt.”
“But,” mused Laura, “even if this ring is genuine, you are not seriously suggesting that the discovery of it has anything to do with Floyd’s death? I know that mummy curses make for good television, but does anyone really take them seriously?”
“Lord Carnarvon may have done. He died a year after the celebrated excavation of Tutankhamun’s tomb – as a result of a mosquito bite. But you have to hand it to the ancient Egyptians, they just knew how to write a curse: “They that shall break the seal of this tomb shall meet death by a disease that no doctor can cure!” and “Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the King!” – these are quality curses. There are a host of rational explanations given, such as a deadly fungus growing in enclosed tombs and infecting those who enter. It is a case of sceptics and believers – take your pick – and perhaps belief in a curse is enough to bring a man down; that is the basis on which any good ancient gypsy curse could work.”
“Yes, but we didn’t open the tomb; so no curse and no nasty bacteria. We don’t even know what killed Floyd.”
Rupert sighed. “You are right, and I am going to have to inform Dr Lowe that he is dead. Sooner or later someone will go and find him, so it is better I sort things out quietly and tell Jinny. Like you I am a sceptic about curses – and yet I did pick up that ring pretty gingerly. Mike from Cambridge works at the British Museum; I’ll get him to look at it and see if it is genuine.”
“Who did touch the ring then: just Floyd?”
“Well, Sebastian wanted to look at it, but I’m not sure if he did, because we all came downstairs. Anyway, he is still happy, healthy and painting. I won’t panic unless he dies mysteriously too!” And with that Rupert gave his wife a fond kiss and made his way back to the house.
Laura watched Rupert go with a mixture of fondness and concern and then promptly forgot about him as she returned her interest to her pet project: Claresby Fair. It was beginning to get hot and the colourful stalls stood out on the lawns like flower blooms. Even before the arrival of villagers and other visitors, there seemed to be a lot of people about the place.
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