The Egyptian Princess

By Jane Waller

Peter Phillips, the time-traveller from Saving the Dinosaurs, now 13, is sent back 5,000 years to Ancient Egypt at the time of the Fourth Dynasty. There he finds a world where the wheel has not yet been invented, where only the prayers of the Pharaoh guarantee that the Nile will provide sufficient water for the crops, and where the Sun God, has to travel by boat through the Underworld each night in order to rise in the morning.

Shortly after his arrival he is befriended by the Pharaoh’s daughter Mer-tio-tess, who believes he is a Spirit sent to help her. While increasingly attracted towards the Princess he finds himself drawn into a web of power struggles and rivalry.

And things get worse when Peter, by accident, brings her back to present-day London, a cold place filled with sad-looking people which, she believes, must be the Underworld.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728398631

Jane Waller

Jane Waller has written three books on the social history of the Second World War and five books on knitwear design, all of which have been inspirational for fashion designers and for film and television wardrobe research. Knitwear from her earlier books can be seen in numerous period films and TV series.

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© 2020 Jane Waller. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  02/20/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9864-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9863-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is dedicated to my husband, Michael Vaughan-Rees, and also to the memory of Kurt Mendelssohn, whose book ‘The Riddle of the Pyramid’ inspired me to write this story.

CONTENTS

Chapter One ~ Ancient Egypt

The Dog Star

Chapter Two ~ London

Time Travel

Chapter Three ~ London

Canary Wharf

Chapter Four ~ Ancient Egypt

The Big Splash

Chapter Five ~ Ancient Egypt

The Ziggurat

Chapter Six ~ Ancient Egypt

Princess Mer-Tio-Tess

Chapter Seven ~ Ancient Egypt

Ancient And Modern Philosophy

Chapter Eight ~ Ancient Egypt

The Royal Palace

Chapter Nine ~ Ancient Egypt

Nefer-Maat’s Surprise

Chapter Ten ~ Ancient Egypt

The Ben-Ben

Chapter Eleven ~ Ancient Egypt

Ra Atom’s Envoy

Chapter Twelve ~ Ancient Egypt

Nefer-Maat’s Reward

Chapter Thirteen ~ London

The Three Dreams

Chapter Fourteen ~ Ancient Egypt

The Ankh Amulet

Chapter Fifteen ~ Ancient Egypt

The Tomb Rat

Chapter Sixteen ~ Ancient Egypt

Prince Hemiuni

Chapter Seventeen ~ Ancient Egypt

Khufu’s Gifts

Chapter Eighteen ~ Ancient Egypt

The Feast

Chapter Nineteen ~ Ancient Egypt

The Sanctifying Of The Tombs

Chapter Twenty ~ Ancient Egypt

The Kee

Chapter Twenty-One ~ London

The House Of The Dead

Chapter Twenty-Two ~ London

The Afterlife

Chapter Twenty-Three ~ London

The River Duat

Chapter Twenty-Four ~ London

The Zebra Crossing

Chapter Twenty-Five ~ Ancient Egypt

Wedding Preparations

Chapter Twenty-Six ~ Ancient Egypt

The Two Brides

Chapter Twenty-Seven ~ Ancient Egypt

The Yellow Light

Chapter Twenty-Eight ~ Ancient Egypt

The Implosion

Chapter Twenty-Nine ~ Ancient Egypt

Two Kees

Chapter Thirty ~ Ancient Egypt

Prince Khufu’s Revenge

Chapter Thirty-One ~ London

The Horus Falcon

Bibliography

Places To Visit

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CHAPTER ONE ~ ANCIENT EGYPT

THE DOG STAR

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It was the time of Ak-het in the month of Thoth, and in the capital of Maidum, the people waited, filled with excitement. For the First of Thoth was New Year’s Day, and if they looked up into the heavens, they would see, rising just before dawn, Sothis ... or Sirius ... the dog star. The coming of this star heralded the beginning of The Great Nile Flood. The people of Ancient Egypt watched as great pillars of sand came racing over burnt-up fields, whirling them to dust, withering vegetation into crackling stems, making their animals grow listless from lack of water. Fierce sunlight cast deep shadows everywhere. The land was ruled and loved only by creatures of heat: the acid scorpion, the rustling snake, the scraping cricket, the scaly lizard. While overhead, hanging high on a blast of hot air, the quiet firm eye of the Horus Falcon scoured the scorched earth for creeping, scurrying things.

In the Palace, raised above and away from the houses, King Snoferu rolled about on his bed, sick and feverish. He was Pharaoh, and on his shoulders was the burden of the Flood. If the Gods allowed him too little water, he would be blamed; if they allowed him the right amount, he would be adored.

By the seventh of Thoth, the Nile waters began to rise, creeping up its banks. Some said it was the tears of Goddess Isis crying over the death of Osiris that made the Nile overflow. First, her sadness melted the snows on the far Abyssinian Hills. These waters ran red like a sacrifice from the colour of the clay they carried. The people rushed to the river to fill large earthenware jars, as they knew the red clay would sink, leaving the water above sweet and clear; good for drinking ... for the Nile was their only source of water. On the twenty-first of Thoth, the Summer Solstice was celebrated with a solemn Religious Festival, followed by drunken feasting.

The people watched the river closer still, until the next important event came when the tears of Isis over-flowed the Equatorial Lakes, sending unwholesome waters into the Nile: foul green stuff, full of algae – quite undrinkable. This was for watering the land.

At last, when the Nile was in spate and running high, the people of Maidum had their irrigation channels hoed out ready to receive water.

Pharaoh Snoferu banished his wife, Queen Hetep-her-es, from him, so that the fear of failure rested with him alone. He tried to take his mind from ‘the right amount of Flooding’ by concentrating on other matters. ‘Khufu,’ he called for his son.

‘Khufu, you have fifteen years now. We must plan for when you yourself become King.’

Prince Khufu bowed. His dark eyes flashed with pleasure. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘You are to be educated at Memphis, City of Learning. You will leave tomorrow, to study for two years. Your Cousin and friend, Prince Hemiuni, shall accompany you. I’ve entrusted Uncle Nefer-maat to take you both in his boat.’

Prince Khufu almost danced from his Father’s presence. His body was ready for races and fights with other boys, his mind alert for learning. Knowledge would bring wisdom, and wisdom bring with it, power.

When he told his favourite Sister, Princess Mer-tio-tess, the news, she burst into tears.

‘I want to learn. I want to race and fight with you.’

Khufu comforted her. ‘You’re to be Queen of Egypt and rule by my side, Meritee. You shall learn deportment, beauty ... and ... and other Queenly ‘things,’ he added feebly, knowing his Sister was wild and ran barefoot over the hot sands – a slim, lithe, untamed thing, with only herself for company. Maybe when he returned, she would be changed.

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CHAPTER TWO ~ LONDON

TIME TRAVEL

In London it was raining hard.

Mrs Phillips welcomed her son from a fortnight’s holiday with his father in the United States. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, kissing her husband. Then ...

‘Peter, what an amazing jacket! You look ... well ... spectacular.’

Peter grinned. His denim jacket, a little wet from the rain, displayed a glittering array of sticker-badges from the favourite places he’d visited. It had become his most treasured possession. He was longing to show it off to everyone when term began the following week. Ivan, his best friend, would be sick with envy when he came back from his holidays.

Peter’s two-year-old baby sister, Elsie-Jane, scrambled onto the sofa, stretched out a chubby hand, and clutched at his red baseball cap. Amid shrieks of delight, she pulled it off and began to chew in a series of cascading dribbles at Peter’s best sticker, fastened to the front of his cap. This was embroidered in silk and came from his favourite place: the Niagara Falls.

His Mother sighed. ‘Sorry, Peter, Elsie-Jane is trying out everything at the moment to see if it’s edible.’

But Peter’s eyes had come to rest on a square packet, addressed to himself, and being used as a paperweight to hold down all the mail for his father. Peter pounced on it. ‘Brilliant! That’s my new 3D disc on ‘Ancient Egypt’, with its new manual. Our teacher said it would help with this term’s project if we could afford one. I love finding out about Ancient Egypt, so I used my thirteenth birthday money to order one.’

Mrs Phillips wasn’t really listening. The whiff coming from Elsie Jane was warning her that she needed changing – straight away.

Peter snatched back his cap, which caused his baby sister to burst into floods of tears. So, grabbing his packet, he escaped to the safety of his room. This was his father’s old study and not very large – though he’d left his desk behind, where Peter’s computer now stood. His older, larger room had been given over to Elsie-Jane, and he still resented it – but at least this room allowed him his own key.

Peter drew his curtains to shut out some light and turned his computer on – an expensive American one he’d had for his tenth birthday with a curved screen and special 3D facilities.

…‘That’s odd!’ ... As Peter withdrew the new disc from its strong plastic case, it was as sharp as a similar disc he’d been sent two years before – a ‘Time Travel Disc’; and once again he nearly cut himself on its lethal rim. Immediately, there followed the very same, very strong chemical smell as he held the sticky disc with fingers and thumb, and which dried hard at once, trapping his finger and thumb-prints, sealing them into its surface forever. It must have been re-formatted for him to use again.

Peter frowned. The glittering rays from its dense tracks were also familiar ... streaking onto his lovely new picture of a Fourth Dynasty Princess, covering her beautiful face with lurid flickering stripes of yellow and mauve, making her come almost alive. ‘I wish she could come alive into my bedroom,’ he sighed, as his computer booted up its new offering. While the screen glowed into activity, he put on the special 3D helmet with eye-pieces and ear-phones. The program was already springing him into a wonderful world of paintings from the Egyptian tombs, followed by close-up views of the great Pyramid of Giza. He could almost reach out to touch the surface of the huge blocks of stone, cast into rich shadows by a searing sun. Now he appeared to be scaling effortlessly up each one, higher and higher towards the summit. Soon he’d be able to see the whole Egyptian desert, as well as the city of Cairo, stretching out before him.

But he never reached the summit. The hard stones began to melt and drip down the screen; followed by a shower of flattened pixels, each turning into soft noodle-shapes as they slipped out of control and disappeared down the front of the screen – just as they had done the time before. And, his new expensive program was ruined by urgent instructions for him to enter his name and address.

For some time he sat, doing nothing – while the whole screen filled with the same command over and over again:

So Peter grudgingly typed in ‘Peter Phillips, 3A Richmond Row, London’; then pressed ENTER.

‘Operation Time Loop’ came up.

TOP SECRET. FOR THE ATTENTION OF PETER PHILLIPS.

‘This is a request for you to Time Travel on a mission of great importance back to Ancient Egypt. It is the only opportunity during the next two hundred years, when Time Waves from our age loop towards those of King Snoferu’s reign ...’

‘Back to Ancient Egypt! How could that be? But Peter knew that for him, it could – he’d already made a trip back to save the dinosaurs.¹ Wow! Go back to see all the places they’d be studying this term for real – and he’d already done loads of preparation for it. If he did choose to go back, it would mean he could find out tons more about Ancient Egypt; get to be top of the class – even win the coveted Class Prize, which he’d always wanted. Already Peter was beginning to forget his disappointment with the original programme. This could be brilliant. So he scrolled down further.

Here are your three Departure Points:

First Time Leap Monday Sept. 1st

The pyramid roof of ‘Canary Wharf’ at 12.30am precisely.

Second Time Leap Tuesday Sept. 2nd

‘The Mummy Rooms’ in the British Museum, at 4.30pm precisely.

Third Time Leap Wednesday Sept. 3rd

The obelisk of ‘Cleopatra’s Needle’ at 10.30am precisely.

(Peter knew exactly where Cleopatra’s Needle was: on the north embankment of the Thames, between Westminster and Waterloo Bridges, guarded by the stone sphinxes.)

Every jump-off place had some kind of connection with Ancient Egypt: and every one started from places in London – they’d be pretty easy to do with a week’s summer holidays still left.

But then Peter remembered his mother’s concern during the Time Travel Journey he’d made to save two Dinosaurs from the Great Dinosaur Extinction. If she got to know about it, she’d utterly forbid him to go. He’d never be able to go backwards in time again.

Then he discovered that the first Time Leap was scheduled for tomorrow ...

Tomorrow! How could he possibly get permission to be inside ‘The skyscraper pyramid roof of ‘Canary Wharf’ by 12.30?

The instructions continued: ‘make sure to be standing right in the middle of the pyramid’ ... Yes, that would make sense: he’d heard tell there was loads of energy inside a pyramid ... that people could sharpen both their razor blades and their wits by being in the centre of one ... but there was nothing in the instructions to tell him how to get permission – only an important warning from its inventor – Mr. Witkins:

‘Stand firm and steady, with feet slightly apart before your Time Leap. Do not leave anything in the Fourth Dynasty – nor bring anything back.’

And what was the journey for? What did this Mr. Witkins want him to discover this time?

‘Tea’s ready!’ his mother called.

Peter quickly turned off the program, hiding the disc under his mattress; he didn’t want anybody to discover what was going on. As he ran downstairs, he narrowly missed being sent flying by some things of Elsie-Jane’s. Peter was stung by the fact that it was his baby sister who took up all his mother’s time. Before Elsie-Jane arrived, his mother had been obsessed with gardening – but at least she’d shared all that with him – her love of flowers and trees – teaching him lots of their names. And she knew stuff like history and archaeology ... but nowadays she hardly ever spent time with him ... she probably hadn’t even missed him much while he was away. Elsie-Jane is a gift from God, coming eleven years after you, Peter, she’d said. So nowadays, the house was crammed with baby things like buggies that got in your way; fluffy things that tripped you up ... and still all that crying in the night.

Peter was mostly left to his own devices –which usually meant escaping into a more magical world inside his special computer.

Throughout tea, Peter’s mind worked overtime, planning a scheme to get inside the Canary Wharf’s Pyramid-roof. While his mother was putting Elsie-Jane to bed, and his father reading through his mail in his study, Peter rang the Information Desk at Canary Wharf on his mobile in the privacy of his room.

‘I’m sorry; the general public is not allowed to visit inside the pyramid roof. It holds all the engineering works that run the whole complex ... but the highest office does actually form the base of the pyramid. It belongs to a huge international company trading in chemicals. The managing director is an American called, Mr. De Witt. Would you like his number?’

It was a start, but Peter hadn’t any experience of talking to managing directors. His best friend, Ivan, would know how to swing it. He’d probably pretend to be someone big himself ... someone as important as De Witt. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what I’ll do.’

Peter rang the number. ‘Brown and Brown Incorporated. How may I help?’ Lowering his voice to a kind of throaty American accent he’d practiced on holiday, Peter replied, ‘I’m placing a call to De Witt. It’s the Phillips Corporation, New York ... it’s urgent.’

‘Hold the line, please. I’ll get him right away.’

But when De Witt answered, and was as loud and gruff as Peter imagined, he began to stutter stupidly. He couldn’t act well like Ivan – nor could he behave in the assured way the American boys he’d met on holiday had done – and he couldn’t go through with it. So he blurted out a request to see the panoramic view from the top storey – just for a few minutes tomorrow around 12.30. It was part of a school project he was doing: London’s Dockland Area.

‘No go. Out of the question.’ De Witt’s voice sounded testy. Some silly schoolboy was wasting his time. ‘I’ve urgent decisions to make at precisely 12.30 tomorrow, dear boy. Then at one o’clock, Andrew, my nephew, arrives for lunch. So I can’t fit you in. Maybe some other time ... .’ Peter was furious with himself. Now he’d have to think of some other way.

That evening, while Peter and his mother cleared the supper things and listened to the radio, Peter discovered he was suffering from jet-lag, as well as disappointment.

Mrs. Phillips noticed how tired her son looked, and apologized for not paying enough attention to him. ‘I am pleased to see you home again, darling, really I am. Tomorrow you must tell me everything about your holiday, after you’ve had a good night’s rest.’