The Story of the Amulet by E. Nesbit (best free novels .txt) 📗
- Author: E. Nesbit
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“And what,” said the King suddenly, “is it that moves in that sack?
Show me, oh strangers.”
There was nothing for it but to show the Psammead.
“Seize it,” said Pharaoh carelessly. “A very curious monkey. It will be a nice little novelty for my wild beast collection.”
And instantly, the entreaties of the children availing as little as the bites of the Psammead, though both bites and entreaties were fervent, it was carried away from before their eyes.
“Oh, do be careful!” cried Anthea. “At least keep it dry! Keep it in its sacred house!”
She held up the embroidered bag.
“It’s a magic creature,” cried Robert; “it’s simply priceless!”
“You’ve no right to take it away,” cried Jane incautiously. “It’s a shame, a barefaced robbery, that’s what it is!”
There was an awful silence. Then Pharaoh spoke.
“Take the sacred house of the beast from them,” he said, “and imprison all. Tonight after supper it may be our pleasure to see more magic. Guard them well, and do not torture them—yet!”
“Oh, dear!” sobbed Jane, as they were led away. “I knew exactly what it would be! Oh, I wish you hadn’t!”
“Shut up, silly,” said Cyril. “You know you would come to Egypt. It was your own idea entirely. Shut up. It’ll be all right.”
“I thought we should play ball with queens,” sobbed Jane, “and have no end of larks! And now everything’s going to be perfectly horrid!”
The room they were shut up in was a room, and not a dungeon, as the elder ones had feared. That, as Anthea said, was one comfort. There were paintings on the wall that at any other time would have been most interesting. And a sort of low couch, and chairs.
When they were alone Jane breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now we can get home all right,” she said.
“And leave the Psammead?” said Anthea reproachfully.
“Wait a sec. I’ve got an idea,” said Cyril. He pondered for a few moments. Then he began hammering on the heavy cedar door. It opened, and a guard put in his head.
“Stop that row,” he said sternly, “or—”
“Look here,” Cyril interrupted, “it’s very dull for you isn’t it? Just doing nothing but guard us. Wouldn’t you like to see some magic? We’re not too proud to do it for you. Wouldn’t you like to see it?”
“I don’t mind if I do,” said the guard.
“Well then, you get us that monkey of ours that was taken away, and we’ll show you.”
“How do I know you’re not making game of me?” asked the soldier. “Shouldn’t wonder if you only wanted to get the creature so as to set it on me. I daresay its teeth and claws are poisonous.”
“Well, look here,” said Robert. “You see we’ve got nothing with us? You just shut the door, and open it again in five minutes, and we’ll have got a magic—oh, I don’t know—a magic flower in a pot for you.”
“If you can do that you can do anything,” said the soldier, and he went out and barred the door.
Then, of course, they held up the Amulet. They found the East by holding it up, and turning slowly till the Amulet began to grow big, walked home through it, and came back with a geranium in full scarlet flower from the staircase window of the Fitzroy Street house.
“Well!” said the soldier when he came in. “I really am—!”
“We can do much more wonderful things than that—oh, ever so much,” said Anthea persuasively, “if we only have our monkey. And here’s twopence for yourself.”
The soldier looked at the twopence.
“What’s this?” he said.
Robert explained how much simpler it was to pay money for things than to exchange them as the people were doing in the market. Later on the soldier gave the coins to his captain, who, later still, showed them to Pharaoh, who of course kept them and was much struck with the idea. That was really how coins first came to be used in Egypt. You will not believe this, I daresay, but really, if you believe the rest of the story, I don’t see why you shouldn’t believe this as well.
“I say,” said Anthea, struck by a sudden thought, “I suppose it’ll be all right about those workmen? The King won’t go back on what he said about them just because he’s angry with us?”
“Oh, no,” said the soldier, “you see, he’s rather afraid of magic. He’ll keep to his word right enough.”
“Then that’s all right,” said Robert; and Anthea said softly and coaxingly—
“Ah, do get us the monkey, and then you’ll see some lovely magic. Do—there’s a nice, kind soldier.”
“I don’t know where they’ve put your precious monkey, but if I can get another chap to take on my duty here I’ll see what I can do,” he said grudgingly, and went out.
“Do you mean,” said Robert, “that we’re going off without even trying for the other half of the Amulet?”
“I really think we’d better,” said Anthea tremulously.
“Of course the other half of the Amulet’s here somewhere or our half wouldn’t have brought us here. I do wish we could find it. It is a pity we don’t know any real magic. Then we could find out. I do wonder where it is—exactly.”
If they had only known it, something very like the other half of the Amulet was very near them. It hung round the neck of someone, and that someone was watching them through a chink, high up in the wall, specially devised for watching people who were imprisoned. But they did not know.
There was nearly an hour of anxious waiting. They tried to take an interest in the picture on the wall, a picture of harpers playing very odd harps and women dancing at a feast. They examined the painted plaster floor, and the chairs were of white painted wood with coloured stripes at intervals.
But the time went slowly, and everyone had time to think of how Pharaoh had said, “Don’t torture them—yet.”
“If the worst comes to the worst,” said Cyril, “we must just bunk, and leave the Psammead. I believe it can take care of itself well enough. They won’t kill it or hurt it when they find it can speak and give wishes. They’ll build it a temple, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“I couldn’t bear to go without it,” said Anthea, “and Pharaoh said ‘After supper’, that won’t be just yet. And the soldier was curious. I’m sure we’re all right for the present.”
All the same, the sounds of the door being unbarred seemed one of the prettiest sounds possible.
“Suppose he hasn’t got the Psammead?” whispered Jane.
But that doubt was set at rest by the Psammead itself; for almost before the door was open it sprang through the chink of it into Anthea’s arms, shivering and hunching up its fur.
“Here’s its fancy overcoat,” said the soldier, holding out the bag, into which the Psammead immediately crept.
“Now,” said Cyril, “what would you like us to do? Anything you’d like us to get for you?”
“Any little trick you like,” said the soldier. “If you can get a strange flower blooming in an earthenware vase you can get anything, I suppose,” he said. “I just wish I’d got two men’s loads of jewels from the King’s treasury. That’s what I’ve always wished for.”
At the word “wish” the children knew that the Psammead would attend to that bit of magic. It did, and the floor was littered with a spreading heap of gold and precious stones.
“Any other little trick?” asked Cyril loftily. “Shall we become invisible? Vanish?”
“Yes, if you like,” said the soldier; “but not through the door, you don’t.”
He closed it carefully and set his broad Egyptian back against it.
“No! no!” cried a voice high up among the tops of the tall wooden pillars that stood against the wall. There was a sound of someone moving above.
The soldier was as much surprised as anybody.
“That’s magic, if you like,” he said.
And then Jane held up the Amulet, uttering the word of Power. At the sound of it and at the sight of the Amulet growing into the great arch the soldier fell flat on his face among the jewels with a cry of awe and terror.
The children went through the arch with a quickness born of long practice. But Jane stayed in the middle of the arch and looked back.
The others, standing on the dining-room carpet in Fitzroy Street, turned and saw her still in the arch. “Someone’s holding her,” cried Cyril. “We must go back.”
But they pulled at Jane’s hands just to see if she would come, and, of course, she did come.
Then, as usual, the arch was little again and there they all were.
“Oh, I do wish you hadn’t!” Jane said crossly. “It was so interesting. The priest had come in and he was kicking the soldier, and telling him he’d done it now, and they must take the jewels and flee for their lives.”
“And did they?”
“I don’t know. You interfered,” said Jane ungratefully. “I should have liked to see the last of it.”
As a matter of fact, none of them had seen the last of it—if by “it” Jane meant the adventure of the Priest and the Soldier.
THE SORRY-PRESENT AND THE EXPELLED LITTLE BOY
“Look here, said Cyril, sitting on the dining-table and swinging his legs; “I really have got it.”
“Got what?” was the not unnatural rejoinder of the others.
Cyril was making a boat with a penknife and a piece of wood, and the girls were making warm frocks for their dolls, for the weather was growing chilly.
“Why, don’t you see? It’s really not any good our going into the Past looking for that Amulet. The Past’s as full of different times as—as the sea is of sand. We’re simply bound to hit upon the wrong time. We might spend our lives looking for the Amulet and never see a sight of it. Why, it’s the end of September already. It’s like looking for a needle in—”
“A bottle of hay—I know,” interrupted Robert; “but if we don’t go on doing that, what ARE we to do?”
“That’s just it,” said Cyril in mysterious accents. “Oh, bother!”
Old Nurse had come in with the tray of knives, forks, and glasses, and was getting the tablecloth and table-napkins out of the chiffonier drawer.
“It’s always meal-times just when you come to anything interesting.”
“And a nice interesting handful you’d be, Master Cyril,” said old Nurse, “if I wasn’t to bring your meals up to time. Don’t you begin grumbling now, fear you get something to grumble at.”
“I wasn’t grumbling,” said Cyril quite untruly; “but it does always happen like that.”
“You deserve to have something happen,” said old Nurse. “Slave, slave, slave for you day and night, and never a word of thanks. ...”
“Why, you do everything beautifully,” said Anthea.
“It’s the first time any of you’s troubled to say so, anyhow,” said Nurse shortly.
“What’s the use of saying?” inquired Robert. “We eat our meals fast enough, and almost always two helps. That ought to show you!”
“Ah!” said old Nurse, going round the table and putting the knives and forks in their places; “you’re a man all over, Master Robert. There was my poor Green, all the years he lived with me I never could get more out of him than ‘It’s all right!’ when I asked him if he’d fancied his dinner. And yet, when he lay a-dying, his last words to me was, ‘Maria, you was always a good cook!’” She ended with a trembling voice.
“And so you are,” cried Anthea, and she and Jane instantly hugged her.
When she had gone out of the room Anthea said—
“I know exactly how she feels. Now, look here! Let’s do a penance to show we’re sorry we didn’t think about telling her before what nice cooking she does, and what a dear she is.”
“Penances are silly,” said Robert.
“Not if the penance is something to please someone else. I didn’t mean old peas and hair shirts and sleeping on the stones. I mean we’ll make her a sorry-present,” explained Anthea. “Look here! I vote Cyril doesn’t tell us his idea until we’ve done something for old Nurse. It’s worse for us than him,” she added hastily, “because he knows what it is and we don’t. Do you all agree?”
The others would have been ashamed not to agree, so they did. It was not till quite near the end of dinner—mutton fritters and blackberry and apple pie—that out of the earnest talk of the four came an idea that pleased everybody and would, they hoped, please Nurse.
Cyril and Robert went out with the taste of apple still in their mouths and the purple of blackberries on their lips—and, in the case of Robert, on the wristband as well—and bought a big sheet of cardboard at the stationers. Then at the plumber’s shop,
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