The Mummy's Shroud

'In the year 2000BC,

'there was born to the reigning Pharaoh of Egypt a son.

'For many years, the Pharaoh Men-ta had prayed to the gods

'for this blessing that came so late in life.

'At last he had an heir.

'And as he presented the child to his rejoicing people,

'he felt strong, proud and secure.

'Men-ta faced the future with pride and contentment.

'Yet evil men had already sworn allegiance to Men-ta's younger brother, Almen-ta,

'who saw in the child, Kah-to-Bey, an end to all his hopes of accession.'

'Men-ta was too absorbed in his child and all he portended for the future

'to be aware of the dark clouds already gathering,

'yet as he offered a prayer of thanks given to the gods,

'invoking their blessings in the years to come,

'tragedy was already preparing to intrude.

'For as he turned from the cheering crowds outside his palace,

'the cold finger of death was soon to touch the heart of his beloved.

'In the presence of his dying queen,

'Men-ta named his child Kah-to-Bey, the next Pharaoh.

'Silently, the attending physicians watched the life that gave him his son

'flutter into oblivion.

'The head slave, Prem, bowed his head with the rest in sorrow,

'sharing Pharaoh's grief.

'The young queen had given Pharaoh his dearest wish,

'an heir to the throne of Egypt.

'So the people rejoiced. They sang and danced in the streets,

'believing that the gods were smiling upon them all.

'Year after year, Pharaoh watched Kah-to-Bey grow towards manhood.

'He devoted every moment to the child who was destined to succeed him.

'He lived only for his son.

'So engrossed was he in the future

'that the past and the present became of no account.

'He was deaf to the warning voices of his advisors.

'And while Men-ta dreamed,

'Almen-ta continued to scheme against the throne.

'Soon he was exhorting his followers to violence.

'His secret army grew and, finally, struck.

'Men-ta and his guards were hopelessly outnumbered.

'The slave Prem fought valiantly to protect his beloved master, but in vain.

'Not one of the royal household was to be left alive.

'This was Almen-ta's decree.

'But before the murderous onslaught claimed the final toll,

'Men-ta exhorted Prem to try to escape to the desert with the young prince.'

Prem! Take Kah-to-Bey! Take him! Take him!

'These men were the sole survivors of the holocaust.

'Like Prem, they were slaves, determined to lay down their lives for their prince.

'Along the first few miles of scorching desert sand,

'they were sustained in the belief that Almen-ta's treachery

'might yet recoil upon him.

'Perhaps one day Kah-to-Bey might return to his rightful place

'on the throne of Egypt.

'As they trudged on, the slave Prem must have prayed

'for some future bloodbath of vengeance.

'But the gods had laid their plans.

'Almen-ta was to rule many years before he came to a traitor's death

'and Kah-to-Bey was not to live to see the final overthrow.

'The slaves' faith in their leader Prem never wavered.

'Prem would guide them out of the desert wilderness.

'They never doubted him. They would follow him into eternity.

'But they lacked provisions -

'very little water amongst them

'and practically no food.

'Gradually, the desert enclosed them.

'And, one by one, they fell and perished.

'Overhead,

'death hovered.

'And waited.

'The gods seemed determined to reserve their favours for the usurper, Almen-ta.

'As all hope started to fade,

'even Prem's massive strength and resolve to save his young prince

'began to waver.'

‘In the teeth of fierce desert storms,

'the few survivors carried Kah-to-Bey towards his last resting place.

'As he lay dying,

'Kah-to-Bey presented to Prem

'the royal seal of the Pharaohs.

'With reverence, Prem covered his young master's body

'with the sacred shroud.

‘In the language of the Pharaohs

'Prem recorded the time and the place.'

‘In the year 1920,

'an expedition financed by a wealthy industrialist, Stanley Preston,

'and led by the distinguished archaeologist Sir Basil Walden

'set out to find the tomb of Kah-to-Bey.

'Their return to the base at Mezzara was now more than a month overdue.

'Speculation as to their fate became news headlines.'

- Ah, Mr Longbarrow... - Please, gentlemen, not at the moment.

- Ah, Mr Preston. - You're Longbarrow.

Yes, I saw you arrive. I must apologise...

Hey, you boy. See to my luggage. What's the number of my suite?

I’ve arranged all that. There is only one suite available, Mr Preston,

- but I have secured it for you. - How do you do, Mr Longbarrow?

- Why didn't you meet the boat? - Your cable arrived half an hour ago.

- As you expressly desired... - Mr Preston?

- Yes? - Have you any news of the expedition?

- I’ve only just arrived from England. - Our readers would like your view, sir.

- Your readers? - I represent the Cairo Evening Sun.

Ah, well now, gentlemen,

you can tell your readers we are most concerned about the expedition.

My own son Paul is, as you may know, a member of Sir Basil’s party.

I came here to ascertain what's being done to find them.

Isn't that so, Barbara?

- Yes, Stanley. - Is your son an archaeologist, too, sir?

He is indeed. A very brilliant boy. Oh, this is my wife.

How do you do?

I don't know whether you are aware, but I’m holding a press conference tomorrow.

- Have you arranged that? - 10 o'clock sharp.

- Sharp? - I don't want you to be kept waiting.

- We just arrived. Where is it being held? - At the Restoration House.

- The what? - It’s a place of Sir Basil’s.

It’s where all the curios and things he finds are brought...

- I see. - ..to be sent to the museums.

Mr Preston, sir, just one photograph, please?

Oh, right. My dear?

- Thank you, sir. - Not at all.

See you tomorrow, gentlemen. Where's this suite of ours?

Perhaps if you would allow me. After you, Mrs Preston.

- I would like to make one point clear. - Yes, Mr Preston, sir.

- I don't like being ignored. - I can see that. Quite understandable.

My general impression is that the press are more interested in Sir Basil Walden.

- We can very soon rectify that, sir. - If you are my press representative,

you'd better improve on this guff I’ve been reading back in England.

Without me, there is no expedition.

- I don't think you quite understand... - I only understand results.

Oh.

Thank you very much.

- Hm, not as bad as I expected. - I’m so glad it meets with your approval.

Very pleasant, Mr Longbarrow. More light?

Oh, certainly, Mrs Preston, yes.

There is a good view from here. You can see the desert quite plainly.

What about the bathroom?

I’m afraid there's no bathroom as such. I’m sure there's a wash basin.

At least there should be. Shall I ascertain?

Yes, there is a wash basin, Mr Preston. I’m afraid there's no convenience.

So sorry, Mr Preston.

Did you, ah, have a nice journey, Mrs Preston?

Quite pleasant, Mr Longbarrow.

Naturally, our thoughts are with those poor men in the desert.

Our son Paul, Sir Basil, Harry Newton - what a nice young man he is.

- Yes, indeed, isn't he? - I hope and pray they're all right.

I’ve got £12,000 tied up in this that says they've got to be all right.

And this young girl, Sir Basil’s assistant. What's her name?

Claire de Sangre, Mrs Preston. She goes on all his expeditions.

- They say she's a brilliant linguist. - How many search parties are looking?

- Three, sir. - Double that. Right away.

- Very good. It is siesta time... - Don't give me any excuses.

Just you go and wake them up. I intend to get things moving fast.

- Get along with you. - Very good, sir.

Is there anything I can get for you, Mrs Preston?

Yes, you can order me some beer. Make sure it's cold.

Very good, sir.

- Anything you want? - Nothing, Stanley.

Yes, you can see the desert from here.

How the devil did that fool Walden get himself lost?

No chance of water from there, sir. The sand's choked everything.

How long do you reckon, sir?

This? It could blow itself out by the morning.

You can never tell in the desert.

I’ve given you all a rough journey.

Don't blame yourself. We've had bad luck.

Uh-huh. Can't put it all down to bad luck.

We started on the wrong day, according to Claire. Friday the 13th, wasn't it?

I remember Claire mentioned it at the time.

- Sorry. - No, I should have listened to you.

But that's in the past. What about the future, Claire?

- We've still got one? - Of course we have!

- Well, Claire? - We'll find the tomb. It’s not far away.

What makes you so sure?

It’s the same feeling I had when I told you the porters would desert.

And the traders' route out of Mezzara.

Yes, you said that would disappear. You were right.

Hope the Derby's on when we get back! I’m taking Claire with me.

I could be wrong, Harry.

If my reckoning hadn't gone adrift, we should be on the side of the tomb now.

I’ve been trying to work it out. Allowing for compass error or the storm or both,

we can't be more than a few miles from it.

The question is shall we go on

or shall we try to find the oasis we left three days ago?

We've got just enough water to get back.

It’s your decision, sir.

No, Paul, it's only fair to put it to you.

If we go on, we go farther away from the water.

Well, I think we should take a chance.

Harry?

I’m gambling on Claire.

Having predicted the disasters, it'd be a pity to miss her one ray of hope!

We're all agreed, then?

I know we'll find the tomb, and we'll survive the desert.

Well, this calls for a celebration. One mouthful of water each, my hearties!

But when the desert is behind us begins the real danger.

And some of us won't survive.

As you know, gentlemen, the primary object of this expedition

is to prove my theory that the mummified figure wearing the seal of a pharaoh

is not that of Kah-to-Bey, but that of Prem,

the slave who received the seal from the young prince when he lay dying.

If we find his tomb, we shall have proved a point that's been debated for 20 years.

We believe that this is not the mummy of Kah-to-Bey, but that of Prem,

the slave who buried him and was himself buried as a pharaoh wearing their seal.

Records that have only recently come to light refer to the Rock of Death.

And close by, we believe, lies the tomb of the real Pharaoh.