“Hang on… This is a list of instructions forghosts?” Boris looked shocked.
“Mmmm, not quite. I think they’d only be ghosts if they got it wrong,” Grandpa Ivan said thoughtfully. “Mind you, no one’s quite sure where Thutmose I’s body ended up… He had at least three different coffins. But what’s really special about this bit of papyrus is that no one knows what it means. Most of theBook of the Dead has been translated– it’s all written in hieroglyphics, you know. Picture writing. But this part of the book is tricky to read, apparently, and this is the only copy that’s ever been found! I heard the staff talking about it in the caf?. They’re pretty sure it’s a spell to do with a magical amulet – or it could be a curse on anyone who steals it…”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Peter muttered, his whiskers shivering. “What if it’s bad luck for it to be here in the museum?”
“There’s no such thing as bad luck!” Tasha gave him a grown-up sort of look. No one was exactly sure how old Peter was. He had been left at the museum as an orphan, so the other kittens liked to think he was the littlest. “Spells and curses are all nonsense. And even if they weren’t, thisone is thousands of years old! Its power must have run out by now.”
“Or it’s spent years and years getting worse and worse,” Boris growled, and Peter nodded at him, round-eyed.
Tasha sighed. Really, the other kittens were all so superstitious. She knew there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_8]
On the other side of the gallery, someone else was eyeing up the new exhibit too. Four rats were peeking out of a hole in the skirting board. It was a very small hole and they had to keep elbowing each other out of the way.
“What do you think it is?”
“Dunno, but it’s got to be something good. Look at that case! Look how thick the glass is!”
“Definitely special. See all the fuss they’re making. And did you spot those horrible cats over there? Behind the mummy? They’ve got their eyes on it too.”
“Oi, let me have a look! Do you think it’s something speciallydelicious?”
“Got to be. And look, you can see it’s all nibbled around the edges. Someone’s already had a taste.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_9]
The rat leader nodded.“Well, there we are,” he said, looking round at them all. “We can’t let those mangy cats have it then, can we? We’d better start making a plan…”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_8]
News of the special new exhibit in the Egyptian Gallery began to spread around the museum. And so did rumours about the curse.
The lorry that had brought the old artefacts to the museum had got two flat tyres and suffered a mysterious engine failure on the way, the caf? staff muttered.
Then the day after the papyrus arrived, one of the guards slipped over in the gallery and banged his head on the display case. He said he didn’t know how he’d done it – he was fine one minute and on the floor the next. All the water pipes started to make strange whistling noises and there were eerie shrieking sounds whenever anyone flushed the loo in the washrooms by the Egyptian Gallery.
The day after that, a school trip came to visit and one of the children was sick all over the floor. The cleaners said there wasdefinitely a curse.
“I told you,” Peter whispered to Tasha as they sat watching the others practise hunting one evening after the museum had closed. “That papyrus is bad news. The pharaoh doesn’t like it being here! Grandpa Ivan said no one knows where Thutmose I’s mummy ended up and I bet his ghost’s furious! Something really awful’s going to happen to the museum!”
“No, it isn’t,” Tasha said, rolling her eyes. “Is it my turn yet?” she added, twitching her tail. But Boris was already creeping forwards in a hunting crouch.
“Very good,” Grandpa Ivan growled. “And wait … wait and watch… Don’t spring… I saiddon’t spring, you ginger oaf!”
Boris tumbled head over heels and landed with a meaty thump. Then he glared at the others. Bianca was smirking, and he could tell Tasha and Peter were trying not to laugh. Peter’s black muzzle was all wrinkled up with the strain of holding it in.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_10]
“Are you all right, dear?” their mother Smoke murmured, nudging him gently.
“Yes,” Boris muttered as he stood up. Why did being the biggest and strongest of the kittens always mean that he was the clumsiest too? They were all supposed to be practising their ratting skills so they could grow up to be museum guard cats, like their mother and their grandfather and all their aunts and uncles. Boris knew that one of these days he was going to be a mighty hunter. He just needed to grow into his paws first.
“Have a rest, Boris,” Smoke said. “Tasha, you try. Imagine a great grey rat, sneaking along the edge of the wall. You spot him…”
Tasha tensed up, her ears pricking and her tail beginning to swish from side to side. Boris watched her slinking towards the imaginary rat and sighed. She looked so…professional. At the moment, it seemed that the only wayhe’d ever catch a rat would be if he fell on top of it.
Perhaps it was because he’d eaten so much supper, Boris thought sadly to himself. Hewas quite full– maybe that’s why he was so clumsy. He wished they didn’t have to have lessons in the evenings but Smoke and Grandpa Ivan wanted them to practise hunting in the galleries where they would be real guard cats one day. So that meant they had to wait until the visitors had left.
Tasha prowled across the room, trying to imagine a rat, all sharp teeth and beady black eyes. Hunting imaginary rats was one thing but the thought of facing off against a fully grown rat was terrifying. Boris said he’d seen rats that were twice her size.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_11]
“Keep low!” her mother called, and Tasha crouched down even further, paws trembling with the effort.
“Nicely done, nicely done,” Grandpa Ivan purred. “Very good form there, small grey stripey one.”
“She’s Tasha.” Smoke let out a sigh.
“I know perfectly well who she is. Now, back, back, as fast as you can!”
Tasha whirled round and shot across the gallery, claws scritching on the slippery floor. She just managed to skid to a stop before she crashed into the other kittens.
“Hmmm. Yes. Well done.” Grandpa nodded regally and Tasha glowed. She wasn’t used to being told she was good at things – she usually got told off for daydreaming during their hunting lessons. It was hard not to daydream when they were surrounded by so many beautiful things.
Peter prowled across the gallery to take his turn, and Tasha sat down and started to lick her paws and swipe them across her ears. Then she looked sideways at the tall plinth towering over them all.
The bronze statue of Bastet, the cat goddess, was one of her favourite museum treasures. It was more than two and a half thousand years old but the cat goddess looked just like so many cats that Tasha knew. On her best, tidiest days, Tasha hoped that she looked a little like the statue too.
She had read the sign on the plinth and she knew that Bastet was the Egyptian goddess of a great many things– secrets and songs and protection and happiness. But mostly cats.
“Thank you,” Tasha whispered to the statue. “Did you help? I’m not usually very good at lessons.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_12]
The bronze cat stared silently ahead and her gold earrings glittered in the dim light. Tasha wished that she wasn’t in a glass case. The cat was old and precious and delicate, Tasha knew that, but it would be so wonderful to nuzzle up against her, just once. Tasha couldn’t help feeling that Bastet’s hard bronze skin would melt to soft tabby-brown fur and she’d nudge back.