I wanted to learn more about the Set cult. It was more and more obvious to me that it was a large part of what drove Danilo, what gave him his passion. But equally I wanted to know more about the Kissing Kings. Why had Akhenaten had himself portrayed that way? Even in the ancient world, where human sexuality was understood and accepted so much better, it seemed… well, not quite the thing. And so I dug into the Egyptological stacks at the campus library, at the city library and online.
I discovered that the portrait I knew was far from the only one. Akhenaten and his son Smenkhare were portrayed in intimate contact in one depiction after another. There was one in the Berlin State Museum that was quite frankly an image of a sexual embrace.
And this was somehow bound up with the Set cult. I had a lot more trouble finding information about it. If what Danilo had been telling me about it was at all accurate, it had been kept quite remarkably secret for four millennia.
I asked him about it one afternoon but, typically, he was evasive. Or at least not as informative as I’d have liked.
“What do you want to know?” He smiled his professorial smile and settled behind his desk.
“I want to know what Akhenaten really believed.”
“It isn’t possible to know what anyone ‘really’ believes, is it?”
“Don’t dodge the question.”
He hesitated, then seemed to decide to be a bit more open. “They were lovers, yes. And they were both murdered.”
“I know that.” Akhenaten died in secrecy; his fate quite unknown. His wife Nefertiti vanished from the historical record. Their son Smenkhare ruled briefly, continuing his father’s religious reforms, then died under mysterious circumstances. His body was found in an unmarked tomb in the Valley of the Kings. He was succeeded by his nine-year old brother Tutankhamen, who was dominated by a priest named Ay, and the revolution came to an end. It was all in the books.
“Then what are you asking, Jamie?”
“It was the Set cult, wasn’t it? What he really believed? The contrarian god, the god in opposition to the natural order as most people understand it.”
Danilo smiled. “Is there a natural order? When I look at nature, I see chaos. Animals sire young, then devour them. Plants grow filled with poison. Babies come with cancer. Galaxies collide and destroy one another.”
“Danilo, will you please stop evading my questions?”
“I’m not.” He said it emphatically.
“Then I don’t understand.”
He sat back. He was enjoying this more than I was, it seemed.
“Have you ever been to the observatory, Jamie?”
“No. What does that have—?”
“You should go sometime. You should have them show you Mars.”
“Mars? Danilo, this is—”
“You wanted an explanation. I’m giving one.”
It slowed me, made me stop and think. “All right, so I go and look at Mars. What then?”
“You might see the canals.”
“And?”
“There are none.”
I was completely lost.
“People see canals on Mars, even though there are none. The eye takes random markings on the planet’s face and connects them, makes them into a coherent pattern. But there is none. There seems to be something inherent in the human mind that tries to find order in things. Even when there is none.”
I thought I was beginning to understand his point. “And Set?”
“Set is the god who represents that understanding.”
“Chaos.”
“No, not that. Simply the recognition that the patterns human beings see are illusions, or may be. The only nature we can ever really understand for certain is our own. Set is that.”
It made a kind of sense, but… ”I’ll have to think about this.”
“Please Do.” He picked up a sheaf of papers and riffled through them. “Have you ever read the Bible?”
The abrupt change of tack caught me off guard. I laughed. “No. Of course not. Nobody does. I mean, Millie used to read it at me, but—”
“You should.”
“Be serious, Danilo. Nobody reads the Bible. I’ve never even met a practicing Christian who’s read the whole thing through.”
“All the more reason, then. You might learn things about their beliefs that they don’t know themselves.”
My impulse was to think he was toying with me, but somehow, I didn’t think he was.
“The Bible is the best-preserved book from the ancient world, Jamie. It contains all kinds of things we’d never know otherwise. Myth and ritual, for instance. Sacrifice.”
I was completely lost. “And this has something to do with Set? And Akhenaten and his son?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. Just not in words.”
“Go and read, then. Get yourself a good King James Bible, not one of these preposterous modern translations. And read the stories of Jephthah, one of the Judges of Israel, and of Kings Ahaz and Manasseh. And while you’re at it, take a moment to thank the king whose efforts preserved them for you.”
King James. Since that night at Danilo’s I had learned that his lover was the Duke of Buckingham, the man for whom Buckingham Palace was built. “I’ve never heard of those stories.”
“Of course not. As you said, no one actually reads the Bible anymore, except for a few familiar, comfortable bits. There’s more truth in that book than the Christians are capable of realizing.”
All of this was more than I had expected to learn. But I told him I’d go and read.
“Good. And when you read those passages, remember one other one: ‘The blood is the life.’”
I had so much new to think about. I kissed him and started to leave.
“Oh, and Jamie?”
“Hm?”
“In ancient Egyptian astronomy, the planet we call Mars… ”
“Yes?”
“Represented the god Set.”
* * *
Bubastis had grown quickly, more quickly than I had expected her to. But she was still a kitten, with that playfulness in her. I loved her like no pet I’d ever had. When she climbed into my lap and purred, it was almost as sweet as being with Danilo.
The night before my final I was in the living room, going over my notes, trying to decipher my own handwriting. I had a CD on, the late Schubert quartets. It was grey and rainy, a good night to be inside. It was, in fact, the first night in two weeks I hadn’t spent with Danilo. Justin wasn’t around.
There was a knock on the door. Carrying Bubastis, I opened it. It was Greg. He was soaking wet. I smiled at him. “Real men don’t carry umbrellas?”
“Don’t be a smart shit.”
“Justin’s not here.” It gave me pleasure to tell him so. Things between Greg and me had gotten steadily more unpleasant.
“I need to come in. I’m drenched.”
“Come back when your boyfriend’s home.”
He pushed his way past me into the apartment. We hadn’t gotten along since that first night when he and Justin met Danilo. Obviously, I threatened him in some way, even though Danilo was the one who had played with his head.
He shook himself, like a wet dog. “It’s raining.”
“I kind of guessed, yeah.”
“You have any clothes I can change into?”
“You’re a foot taller than me, Greg.”
“Why aren’t you out with that old man?”
“And miss the pleasure of your company? Look, I’ve got my final tomorrow. I have to study.”
“Go ahead.”
He stomped into the bathroom and closed the door. I got my notebook and sat down again. Bubastis sniffed at the bathroom door, curious what might be going on inside. I wanted to ace my test, not just for myself of course but for Danilo.
After a few minutes Greg came out, wearing nothing but his shorts, drying his hair. He rather pointedly sat down in a chair opposite me. Evidently, I wasn’t to be allowed to study. Bubastis scampered ahead of him and jumped up into my lap
“That’s my towel, Greg.”
He smiled a smartass smile. “Thanks for letting me use it.”
I tried to concentrate on Middle Kingdom politics.
“So, you still boffin’ your prof?”
“If you want to be cutesy about it, yes.”
“He any good?”
I looked up from my notebook. “Look, Greg, I’m trying to study. Don’t you have a final too?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be a piece of cake.”
“What are you taking?”
“Sports Medicine. We learn to bandage sprained ankles and shit.”
“I knew how to do that when I was ten.”
“We learn how to do it right.”
“Oh.”
For a few moments we fell silent and I was able to concentrate on the list of ancient kings. Mentuhotep, Amenemhat…
“Do we have to listen to this fag music?”
I didn’t bother looking up. “We’re fags, right?”
“You better shut up.”
“Look, if you don’t like it here, why don’t you just leave? This is my place.”
“And Justin’s.”
“He’s not here. Why don’t you go out and look for him?”
“Fucker. Where’s the remote?”
“Leave the TV off. I’m studying.”
“And listening to pansy music.”
I could have ended it. I could have gone to my room. But it was my place, damn it, and I couldn’t let him dominate it that way. Instead I just kept reading and hoped he’d get bored.
Bubastis jumped off my lap and headed for her water bowl. I flipped back a few pages and went over something Greg had distracted me from. The music swelled to an agitated “Death and the Maiden.”
When the kitten came back into the room, she made a beeline for the couch and jumped up beside Greg.
“Get this cat away from me.”
I was casual. “She lives here, Greg. You don’t.”
“Faggot fucker.”
I went back to my notes.
An instant later there was a frightened cry from Bubastis. Greg had picked her up by the throat. She was struggling, swiping at him with her little paws, but of course it was no use.
I jumped up. “Put her down! Gently!”
“I hate cats.”
“Then get the hell out of here.”
“Only fags have cats.”
“Then you should get along with her.”
“Fucker!” Still holding her by the neck he threw her across the room at me. I tried to catch her, but she slipped through my hands and hit the wall. She shrieked in pain.
I ran across the room and jumped on him. He had ten, maybe twelve inches on me and 60 pounds or more, but I threw myself at him and knocked him over and started pounding him. “You get the fuck out of here, you goddamned pig!”
He pushed me off. “It’s only a cat. Christ.”
I punched him again, not that it did much good. “Get your clothes on and get out of here!” He swiped at me, but I ducked.
In the opposite corner Bubastis was crying pitifully. I went and picked her up. It looked like her right front leg was broken.
Greg got to his feet and glared at me.
“I told you to get out of here!”
“Why the fuck should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll call the police. Cruelty to animals is a crime. And I’ll tell them everything. You understand me? Do you want your little friendship with Justin made part of the public record?”
Something like panic crept into his eyes. “Fuck.” He headed to the bathroom.
I cradled poor little Bubastis. There was an emergency animal hospital in the neighborhood. I called them and they said they could take her right away. I went to the closet to get the cat carrier.
A few moments later Greg came out of the bathroom, dressed. His arrogance had left him, at least a bit. “Would you really do that?”
“In a minute.”
“You can’t.”
“Push me again and see.” I lined the carrier with soft towels, hoping to make the trip easy on her. She was still frightened, cowering in the crook of my arm.
“The guys on the team would… They can’t know.”
“Then if I were you, I wouldn’t pull this shit again. I don’t want to see you here except when you’re with Justin. And even then, you had damned well better behave.”
He glared at me. It was obvious how much he hated me. Sullenly he went to the door. “Tell Jus I was here.”
“And I’ll tell him what you did. Bubastis is his cat, too.”
“Fucker.”
“Get out.”
He left, sulking. A moment later there came a faint tap on the door. It was Mrs. Kolarik. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard raised voices. Is everything all right?”
“There’s been an accident with Bubastis. I have to get her to the vet’s.”
“The one over on Shady? I’ll get my car and drive you.”
“Thanks.”
I got a jacket and umbrella and Mrs. Kolarik drove us to the emergency vet’s as quickly as she could with shaking Bubastis up even more. Her leg was broken, as I had thought, and they put a cast on it; there were a few bruises. Otherwise she seemed all right. When they were finished with her and she saw me she came running to me, as quickly as the cast would let her, meowing happily.
When I got home, Justin was there. I told him what Greg did. He defended him. “It must have been an accident.”
“Jus, he picked her up by the throat, shook her and threw her across the room.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“God damn it, Justin, he did it.”
“No.”
There was no point. He was in love.
The phone rang. I didn’t much want to talk to anyone; my opinion of humanity wasn’t especially high right then. But it was Danilo. Hearing his voice calmed me down almost at once. He offered to come over and keep me company.
“Thanks, but I have to finish studying. I have a final tomorrow.”
“You have, Jamie darling, an unattractive tendency to be a smartass.”
“I know it.”
“Bring her to my house. I can help.” He hung up.
Every time I thought I had his range, Danilo said or did something to surprise me. What he had said made no sense.
I was sitting on the sofa. Bubastis tried to jump up beside me, but she couldn’t. I picked her up and cradled her.
Justin came out of the kitchen with a packet of cat treats, but she seemed afraid of him. Intelligent kitten.
He was put off by it. “She always likes these.”
“She must smell Greg on you.”
“Don’t be silly. They must have her on some drug or something.”
“Right.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. “That must be it.”
* * *
Late that night the rain stopped. The sudden absence of sound woke me up. Bubastis was sleeping on the pillow beside me. And I realized Danilo was in the room. He was sitting, watching me in the dark. Like, I thought, a lover. I reached over to the nightstand and switched on a little stained-glass lamp he had given me, a genuine Tiffany.
He kissed me, and I kissed back.
“How did you get in?”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. How is Bubastis?”
She woke up, groggily, and recognized him. She had always liked him, and she limped across the bed to him. He picked her up and nuzzled her.
“Sweet little kitten.” She meowed, happy to see him. “Were you dreaming, Jamie?”
“No. For once I wasn’t.”
He kissed me again.
“Let me take her for a few moments.”
I sat up. “Take her?”
“Just for a few moments. Leave me alone with her, all right?”
I was too off-balance to object. He picked her up and disappeared into the living room.
It was odd, even for Danilo. I got quietly out of bed, pulled on my shorts and went to look.
The living room was empty. The kitchen light was on.
Slowly I pushed the swinging door open a crack and looked in. Bubastis was on the kitchen counter. She was drinking something dark from a saucer. Danilo was at the sink, washing his hands. When she finished drinking, he took the saucer and rinsed it off. She scampered to him happily.
Then he took a knife out of the silverware drawer and started to cut her cast off.
“Danilo, don’t!”
He smiled casually. “She doesn’t need it now.”
Before I could reach them, he slit down the center of the cast and pulled it off. Bubastis capered about, glad to have it off. There was no limp, no sign of pain. She jumped down off the counter and scampered past me into the living room.
“What did you give her?”
“I’ve already told you that, in any number of different ways.”
He took a step toward me, but I backed off. “Danilo, you know how much I love you.”
“And I you, Jamie.”
“Then why do I feel like I should be afraid?”
“I took a poor, injured kitten and made her well. Why should you be afraid of that?”
“It isn’t just that.”
“No?”
I was more frightened than I wanted to admit, not of what he might do, but of losing him. “Danilo, please tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you are. What we are.”
He hesitated. “I gave her consecrated blood to drink. I said a spell. And she was healed. You’ve seen enough of the old papyri. That cannot surprise you.”
I was terrified to ask, but I had to. “Do you love me?”
He crossed the room to me, slowly. “Jamie, sweet Jamie, in all the world, in all the centuries I have found no one to love more.” Just as slowly he put his arms around me, and we kissed again. I felt the tip of his tongue touch the side of my throat, and I shivered with pleasure. There was no place I wanted to be but in his arms.
I felt something brush against my leg. Bubastis was there, circling us, rubbing against Danilo first, then me, all while purring sweetly. There were still traces of blood on her face. When she had finished letting us know she was there she sat and began cleaning her face with her paw, carefully, methodically.
The blood is the life.
* * *
I aced the final. No problem. After class I went to Danilo’s office and he graded my paper while I waited. A+. We kissed again. It seemed to me that all we did was kiss and touch and make love. And that was just fine.
Though I had not taken any formal piano instruction that summer, I had of course stayed in practice. Roland gave me nothing but praise for my progress at the keyboard. Loving Danilo fired my art, or so it seemed. At the winter recital he wanted me to have a go at the Schubert Wanderer Fantasy.
The suggestion made me self-conscious. “But Roland, that’s such a tough piece. I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew, not again.”
“You can do it. You’ve gotten better. This time you won’t just have the passion, you’ll have the technique.”
“But—”
“Besides, I want you to have a real challenge in front of you. You’ve got the talent to do it. Stretch yourself till you can.”
He knew, or suspected, about my affair with Danilo. He disapproved—that was obvious—but he seemed to understand that Danilo was good for me, and he never said anything. That meant a great deal to me.
* * *
The next morning was brilliant with sunshine. But it was already hot, a hideous August day, and the humidity was climbing. I woke early.
Bubastis was sleeping beside me as usual. She woke, yawned, stared at me, then curled up and went back to sleep.
I headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast. It was a mess. Greg had spent the night with Justin, and they must have gotten up for a snack in the middle of the night. Annoyed with them, I found some clean bowls and a griddle and started a batch of hotcakes.
Things between them and me had been tense. When they realized Bubastis could walk, they thought I had invented or exaggerated her broken leg. Plainly there was no way I could tell them how she had been healed. And so, in Justin’s mind I was the liar, not Greg; I was trying to break up their affair. Villainous me.
The telephone rang.
Danilo.
“Are you packed?”
“Packed?”
“I’ll be there to pick you up in 20 minutes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going away, remember? I promised.”
I had forgotten. It had seemed so… unimportant, I guess. “No, I’m not packed yet.”
“Then pack now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I forgot about breakfast and headed for the bedroom. I hadn’t asked him how long we’d be gone. How much should I take?
Bubastis sniffed at my bag. She remembered the last time I packed it and knew it meant I’d be leaving for a time. And she made it clear she was unhappy. The thought of leaving her with Justin and Greg… I tried not to think about it. Despite his ongoing hostility to me, Greg had been on his best behavior. Instead of protecting him, his secretiveness only made him vulnerable, but that wasn’t a realization he seemed able to make.
I had just started packing when a car drove up and the horn sounded. I looked out the window to see Danilo. He was at the wheel of a Corvette, a bright red one. I had never seen him in a car before. I was so used to seeing him in an ancient setting, full of papyrus and alabaster, that the sight startled me. He smiled a breezy smile and waved.
I ran out to meet him. He put his arms around me, and we kissed for a long time on the sidewalk. There was a time when it would have made me self-conscious. Now I didn’t care.
“You didn’t say how long we’re going for. I don’t know what to pack.”
“The skimpiest clothes you have. I want everyone to see.”
In bright sunlight his hair always seemed grayer. And his eyes greener. I swear, I would have made love to him then and there if he’d asked me to.
“I’m serious. What should I bring?”
“Enough for a week. Nothing too dressy, all right?”
I ran back inside while he waited on the sidewalk, polishing his car like a good suburban husband. It was so incongruous. Ten minutes later I nuzzled Bubastis to say goodbye, left a note for Justin, and we hit the road.
He avoided the Interstates. We traveled one back road after another. I hoped we’d keep going. Every town we passed through reminded me of Ebensburg.
After a while he asked why I looked so gloomy, and I told him it was reminding me of home—what I smilingly called home, because I had no choice.
“Should we stop and visit your relatives?”
“Good God, no. They’d lynch us.”
“Or try to and live to regret it.”
“Thanks, but I’d just as soon never see Ebensburg again.”
We kept driving, northeast. After a few hours we were in the Poconos. Lush, green, rolling hills, giving way to even lusher, greener mountains. Eventually he turned off onto a dirt road.
“Where on earth are we?”
“A million miles from Greg, and even farther from your relatives.”
It was mid-afternoon. Shadows were stark and the sun beamed brilliantly overhead. We crept slowly along the road. Trumpet vines blossomed bright orange among the trees, and vivid purple wisteria cascaded everywhere. Among the trees, here and there, was a dead, rotted one.
The road led to an old stone house, almost a small castle, tucked among the hills. A turret soared up to the treetops; rainspouts carved into gargoyles adorned the four corners. Dark green ivy climbed the walls and the tower. Heavy leaded-glass windows looked out onto the mountains and the forest. A house out of Poe, I thought.
“Danilo, it’s incredible.”
“It’s ours for the next week.”
I mentioned Poe and almost before I had the words out, he said what I somehow knew he would, that Poe was one of us too.
“How on earth did you find this place?”
“Online. How else?” Again, hearing something so contemporary from him seemed… not quite right… out of place, maybe.
He seemed to know what I was thinking. “We have to change with the times. We have to use what the times give us. Come inside.”
We walked to the door, holding hands. Large door, eight feet tall, heavy wood, stained-glass coat of arms in the center of it. He pulled out a set of large, heavy old keys and opened it. Then, quite unexpectedly, he picked me up and carried me across the threshold. Part of me felt silly, like a kid or a girl. Another part of me fell more in love than I had been before.
“Jamie, welcome home.”
Inside, the house was a wonder. There were the most fabulous antiques everywhere, eighteenth century things mostly. I couldn’t stop grinning. “Danilo, it’s perfect, it’s a museum. We have our own private museum.”
“With no Professor Feld prowling around.”
In one corner was a piano, a concert grand. I ran to it, opened the cover and played a few notes. It was in perfect tune. Even more excited, I sat down and played the opening bars of the “Minute Waltz.” Danilo moved behind me and put his arms around me; it hampered my playing, but I didn’t care.
I found myself wondering whose house it was.
“No one’s. The owner’s dead, and all his family. Old money from Philadelphia. They owned a department store. The last of them died 20 years ago. The estate rents it out to help cover the taxes.”
I played some from a brief nocturne. The dark tone seemed to reflect the dark forest outside.
“I had them tune the piano for you, made it a condition of our lease.”
I had never been so excited. I stopped in mid-bar and ran to the largest of the windows. “This is wonderful. You could live here for years without seeing another human being.” I turned to look at him. “Just you and me. We’re the only ones in the world.”
“Well, not quite. There’s a caretaker. Part-time.”
“Oh.” I didn’t want anything to bring me down. “Well, tell him to stay away.”
“He has a room, in the basement around back. But I think he usually sleeps at his own place.”
“Danilo, I don’t want to see anyone else. Just you.”
That night we went for a walk in the woods. There was a quarter moon and more stars than I had ever seen. The Milky Way arced high overhead. We held hands and ambled without much aim. The mountain air was cool, even in August. I was a bit chilly in my shorts.
“Do you know the sky, Jamie?”
“Not on a first-name basis, no.”
“Do I love you despite the fact you’re such a smartass, or because of it?”
“Face it, professor, I’m irresistible.”
He ignored this. “Only in Egypt, in the middle of the Great Desert, have I seen a sky so vast, filled with so many stars.”
“It’s marvelous, Danilo. I used to think Pittsburgh’s sky looked empty after living in the country. But Ebensburg nights were nothing compared to this.”
“You Americans have lost touch with so much.”
It was still another of his odd comments, but they hardly seemed to register any more. “Where are you from, then?”
He smiled. I could see it clearly in the moonlight. “The Old World.”
“Would you like to be more specific?”
“My parents were Egyptian.”
It surprised me. “I thought you were from somewhere in Eastern Europe.”
“Europe is where I’ve lived most of my life.” He put an arm around me and gestured with the other. “That bright star over there—the one with a reddish cast to it, just above the moon?”
I looked where he was indicating.
“Mars,” he said. He stroked my hair in his familiar way. “Or Set, if you prefer.”
“Let’s honor him, Danilo. Let’s shatter all the patterns.”
“I thought we were already doing that.”
“Make love to me here, where he and all the stars can see us.”
Slowly he began to undress me. “Do you understand what the ancients saw in the stars and the planets?”
“They thought they were gods.” His touch warmed me.
“Not exactly. The ancients understood that the soul and the body are not necessarily one.”
I opened his shirt and kissed his chest. “I don’t know what you mean.” The gods were the last thing on my mind just then.
“The lights in the sky are the gods’ souls.”
Despite myself I had to ask him, “Then your soul can be somewhere other than in your body?”
“Of course. Why not?” He never stopped teaching me. Or teasing me. There were times I wasn’t sure which.
I got the last of his clothes off. We put our arms around each other. From the corner of my eye I could see the moon and, just above it, Mars, tinged with blood, shining steadily.
Suddenly there were headlights shining through the trees. We quickly got back into our clothes. Danilo seemed more disappointed than I was. Our first night together in our own world. I had meant it when I said I never wanted to see another human face.
We went back to the house as quickly as we could in the dark woods. A jeep was parked at the back of the house. There was a man knocking at the front door. Danilo strode up to him. He must have been 6’6” and he was overweight, dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt and heavy work boots.
“Good evening. Can we help you?”
“You Mr. Semenkaru?” He had trouble pronouncing it.
“Yes, and this is Mr. Dunn. What can we do for you?”
“I’m Albert Little Bear.” He looked from one of us to the other suspiciously.
Danilo looked at me and mouthed the words, “The caretaker.”
“I just wanted to make sure you got here and everything’s all right.”
I spoke up. “Everything’s perfect, Mr. Little Bear. You’re Native American?”
“One eighth. This land used to belong to the Iroquois.” He stared at us. “You shouldn’t go out in the forest at night. It’s easy to get lost.”
“We didn’t go too far.” Danilo didn’t want him there any more than I did. “Is there something you need?”
“No. Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you got here okay.” He looked from Danilo to me again, not seeming to approve of us. “What are you planning to use this place for?”
“Just rest and relaxation, Mr. Little Bear.”
“Albert.” He took a step toward us, then stopped. “This is a quiet region. People don’t like anything funny.”
“I’ll try to restrain my sense of humor, then.” I pointedly crossed to him and shook his hand.
It seemed to startle him. “I think you know what I mean. How old are you, Mr. Dunn?” He leaned on the “Mr.” with heavy sarcasm.
“Twenty” I decided an extra year couldn’t hurt. “Want to see my driver’s license?”
Danilo quickly got between us. “You’ve stocked the pantry for us?”
“Enough food for a week.” He smiled to show he didn’t care if we starved. “You want me to light a fire before I go?”
“We’ll manage.” Danilo smiled back at him, a polite “screw you.” “Why don’t you stop back in a few days?”
Without saying a word Albert got in his jeep and drove off down the road.
I couldn’t help smirking about the encounter. “It’s so hard to find good help nowadays.”
Danilo watched till his taillights disappeared. “He could be trouble.”
“For you?” I didn’t believe it.
“For us. I wanted this trip to be a break from that kind of thing. You get enough of it at home.” He took my hand and we went inside. The night air held a chill. “I should have had him start that fire.”
“We can warm each other up.”
And we did. We made love again and again. When the night became too chilly, we lit a fire and made love again, there in front of it. Then we sat, spoon-wise, his arms around me from behind, and we talked about our lives, and about our life—together.
At one point I felt him get a bit tense. When I looked over my shoulder he was staring at the window.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t sound convincing, and I said so. “I thought I saw our Albert looking in the window at us.”
“Oh.”
“He’s gone now. He ducked away as soon as he knew I had seen him.”
“Another closet case?”
“Maybe. He could merely be a generic brute, or a lunatic.”
“I saw the look on his face when we came out of the woods. He’s a closet case.”
“I don’t want him to ruin this, Jamie.”
“He won’t. No one could.”
* * *
The next few days were paradise. There was me, there was Danilo and there was our little castle in the mountains. If anything else existed I didn’t want to know about it.
We made a few trips into a nearby town to eat at a little diner that had surprisingly good food. Especially pies, which Danilo seemed quite partial to. On our third visit, the owner mentioned Albert Little Bear. It seemed our caretaker had been spreading gossip. The owner did not exactly tell us we weren’t welcome in his diner, but that was what came through.
I played for Danilo every night.
The third night Albert was at the window again. This time I was the one who saw him. He grinned at us like a vicious animal. We got into our pants quickly and went out to deal with him. But he was gone. He knew the woods better than we possibly could; he even knew the house better, if it came to that. He could have been anywhere.
Two more nights we had to ourselves. Our interval of solitude, or near-solitude, was ending. Late, very late, Albert was at the window again, watching us make love, leering and grimacing. This time when we saw him, he stayed there for a long moment and held up a huge hunting knife. The threat could not have been clearer.
Danilo jumped to his feet and headed for the door, quite naked. “Stay here, Jamie. I have to deal with this.”
“You can’t go like that.”
“Yes, I can. I don’t want him to get away again. Stay here. I’ll be back.”
He took a flashlight and went outside. I rushed to the window, but all I could see was the light, heading into the moonlit woods.
I climbed quickly up to the turret. All week long I had been too preoccupied to go there. The steps spiraled. The top room was empty, full of dust, debris and boxes; a storeroom, nothing more. The moon’s light poured in. At the window I could see Danilo’s light heading into the forest.
I should have gone with him. Albert was a large man. Against him, two of us would have been… I didn’t know what. I was terrified he’d do something to Danilo and then come for me. We should have fought together.
Then Danilo’s light went out.
Terrified, I waited.
It was forever. I was so worried what would happen to my Danilo, my lover, my… absurdly I found myself thinking “father.” And I knew in a way that’s what he was. After all my life I had found him, and now he was in the dark nighttime forest with a hateful fiend. I pressed my hands against the window as if that could have made me closer to him.
Then I saw a figure emerge from the trees. Large, enormous in fact, but moving quickly and with a kind of grace. When it finally entered a patch of moonlight, I realized the shadows had created an illusion.
It was Danilo.
He seemed unhurt, no evident limp or wound. He was naked. Then I saw something dark on his face and throat.
I was afraid to move. He stopped walking and looked up to the turret. He knew where I was.
I waited there. In a moment he entered the house; I heard him climbing the steps, and he came into the room. He stood there naked and beautiful in the moonlight. There was a large smear of blood from the corner of his mouth down to his chin, then down the side of his throat.
We stared at each other for a time. Then he said softly, “Albert will not bother us any more.”
He had beaten a man who was much taller and heavier, who must have been stronger. I felt so many conflicting emotions. Danilo had fought him for me. To protect me. In all my life no one had done such a thing. In that moment I knew that he truly loved me. Yet there was blood.
“Danilo, I want to know who you are.”
He stayed silent.
“Please, Danilo. I love you, but part of me is terrified.”
He took a step toward me. I tensed. He sensed it and stopped. Very gently he said, “Achilles was the first. I was there when his mother hid him among the women, to keep him out of Agamemnon’s insane war. I saw his rage when his lover Patroclus died. I helped bury him.
“And there were all the others, long, sad generations of them. Socrates and Pericles, Marc Antony and Dellius, Erasmus, Richard Lionheart, Ludwig of Bavaria, who they called mad.”
Hearing him say this did not surprise me. I had known, in a way.
“We were not the first, Jamie, my father and I. There had been Gilgamesh, who loved the warrior Enkidu. There had been…” He stopped and smiled. “But by now you know the catalog. My father and I were not the first to have the blood. But when they killed him—”
“Your father?”
“My father was Akhenaten.”
Smenkhare. I don’t know why the similarity in names had never struck me before.
“You have their blood, Jamie. The royal blood, the blood of kings. I’ve told you so before.”
I had thought it was love talk, the kind of silly thing an older man would say to a younger one to flatter him.
“We were not the first. No. But when they killed my father, when they did the most awful things to his corpse, right in front of me…” He looked and sounded lost. “Then two years later, when it became clear how much I was my father’s son, they decided to do away with me, too. I escaped. I honestly don’t remember how. I had been trained as a priest. I knew what the ancient scrolls said. A cousin of mine had died recently. We looked alike, and I dressed him in some of my things, so when they found him, they thought he was me.
“Then I lived for a generation like a desperate hermit in an abandoned rock-cut tomb, collecting all the papyri, learning the spells, mastering the words. Some of them are even in the Bible. ‘The blood is the life.’”
All of this… I had suspected something, but nothing this immense, this timeless. “And I…?”
“There are more of us. More than anyone could guess, more than even I know. But you… I have mentored so many men, hoping to revive the power we once knew, and the pride we once took in it. Keeping the flame alive, however dimly. You are the one. Jamie, love, of all the ones I’ve known, you are the one, the blood prophet who can—”
“I am not. I am no such thing.”
“You are. A thousand generations of kings and prophets speak through you. When you play, I hear the hand of Frederic Chopin himself.”
The universe was in a whirling chaos. I could not make sense of it. I could not know what to say.
“The power will be yours, Jamie. Only take it. You have the blood of kings.”
Across the moonlit room he stood tall and naked. I knew that he loved me. And I could hear in his voice that he was terrified I’d reject him and what he was offering.
All my life I had been alone, no family, no one to love who loved me in return, no one, even, who understood the passion I felt for my music.
I took a step toward him. He was afraid to move or say anything, I could see it. I crossed the room to him and touched his chest. He was sweating. From the struggle? From fear of what I’d say to him?
But I didn’t say a word. I touched his face, still wet with blood. I pulled him to me and licked the blood from his lips. It was sweet, much sweeter than I expected.
We made love, there in that empty, dirty room, and it was more intense, even, than the most intense things I had felt before. In that moment we were the Kissing Kings, and I knew something of what he meant. I could feel the blood of 100 artists pounding in my heart; I felt the power of a thousand kings.
When we were finished, we slept in each other’s arms, there on the dirty floor. It didn’t seem to matter.
Then, very late, when I was certain he was sound asleep, I got up quietly and got dressed. There was something I had to do, something I had to see.
It took me a few minutes to find another flashlight. On a table just inside the door I noticed a knife, the golden one I had seen in Danilo’s office once. It was soaked with blood. Then I headed out into the woods. The moon had wheeled round to the other side of the sky, making everything look different. It took me a moment to get oriented and find the place where, I thought, he had come out of the trees. Even so it took me a time to be quite certain. My flashlight and the moonbeams pouring down through the branches were not really much help. Mars shone brightly.
But finally, I found what I was looking for. Albert’s body. I shined my light on it and could see at once that it was cut open, exactly like the others. But this body was mutilated even more. I realized the foxes had been at it already. I could hear them—could hear something—moving around me in the dark woods. Were there wolves?
I suddenly felt foolish and vulnerable, standing there alone in the darkness. But I had had to see.
And still did. I took a step toward Albert’s remains and bent over to look more closely. There were a few shreds of clothing still around his ankles and wrists; otherwise he was quite naked. His genitals were gone; his eyes were gone. The vast gash that tore him open was filled with blood and shredded flesh. Where his heart should have been there was a gaping black cavity.
Danilo had done this. This was not like finding Grant. I had known Grant. Finding him dead had been… But Albert had been a stranger, and a hostile one. Danilo had killed him. He had kept trying to tell me why, but I was too slow to understand. Something about the Book of the Dead, something about the Bible, something about an immortal life…
Looking at Albert’s corpse, knowing that Danilo had done this for me—for me—I felt a thrill, a sexual thrill. I could have gone back to the house and made love to him again that moment. Instead, I got down on one knee and pushed a finger into the body. The blood was congealing; it was thick and sticky. But I raised my finger to my lips and licked it clean. It was nowhere near as sweet as it had been on Danilo’s lips.
Some mad impulse made me do it. I leaned down and kissed Albert’s lips. For a moment I thought I felt it his body twitch under my caress.
There were foxes in the dark woods around me, or raccoons, or… I could hear them moving. I was interfering with their unlooked-for feast. I got up and dragged the body further into the trees, then went back to the house.
Danilo was still sleeping.
He was as naked as Albert had been. Asleep, he had an erection. I kissed him till he woke up, and we had hot, wild sex. It seemed to last forever, the night seemed endless, before we finally fell asleep again.
And in the morning the first rays of the sun woke us. Danilo was young and vibrant, more so than I had ever seen him. I could have eaten him with a spoon, I loved him so much. And I was also still scared. He sat up and yawned and kissed me.
“Danilo, I don’t know whether to feel guilty. I don’t know what to feel.”
“Should we go and bury Albert, then?”
“No.” I stood and stretched. “No one will ever find him. The bears and foxes will see to it. They were already at it last night. People will suspect, but…”
“Let them. They won’t have any proof.”
I had an ugly thought. “The ones in Pittsburgh…”
“I wanted them to be found.”
“Why, Danilo?”
“So that people would know.”
“You killed them all? Tim? Grant?”
He nodded. “It was necessary. For us. If I hadn’t done it, we would not be here now, together.”
It didn’t make sense to me. Albert had threatened us. But Tim… I suppose I had never quite stopped loving him. How can you? “Did you kill Tim because you knew he had been my lover? Were you jealous?”
“I didn’t know it was him at the time, no.”
“I still have mixed feelings about him dying, Danilo.”
“I did not kill him, Jamie, nor any of the others. They themselves chose to be dead. What I did was merely a postscript to their empty lives. Let’s go downstairs. I should get some clothes.” He headed down the staircase and looked back to make sure I was following. “All of them threaten us, Jamie. Not always as directly as Albert. But they would deny our nature, they would have us deny it ourselves, as they deny theirs.”
I made hotcakes for us and fried a pan of bacon. Danilo ate like he hadn’t been fed in weeks.
“You still have some of Albert on your chin.”
“I’ll get a shower.”
“No, Danilo. We will.”
* * *
The next afternoon was cool and rainy. We headed back to Pittsburgh. I switched on the radio to hear a forecast. It was supposed to rain all day.
Danilo picked a different route than the one we had taken on the way up. After a while it became clear why. I realized he was heading for Ebensburg.
“Danilo, please don’t.”
“I’m curious to see where you came from. What kind of place produced you. We won’t stay, if you’d rather not. We’ll just drive through.”
I knew it sounded foolish, but I did not want to see the place, it carried too many unpleasant things for me. But I couldn’t make myself say so.
Late in the afternoon we drove into town. Danilo coasted to a stop in front of the bus station. The streets were nearly empty, just a few scattered people with umbrellas. The rain was coming down fairly heavily; sidewalks were flooded, water cascaded through the streets. Overhead there was a flash of lightning.
Neither of us said anything. He sat behind the steering wheel, taking it all in, seeming to study it. A woman came out of the bus station carrying an old, battered suitcase and looked around, not seeming to recognize anything. She looked lost. After a moment she lugged her bag off along the street and disappeared into a little restaurant.
“Are you hungry, Jamie?”
“Not for anything here.”
“You told me once about a swim coach here, who—”
“Danilo, can we please go?”
He fell silent and looked up and down the street again. “That church there. Is that where your father—?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” I knew it sounded petulant, but I added, “I don’t want to.”
Slowly he said, “Of course. I should have realized.” He started the car and we left Ebensburg, slowly. He seemed still to be studying it or looking for something. I couldn’t imagine what.
When we reached the main highway, the rain started to come down even harder. The wipers were hardly keeping the windshield clear, and I thought we might have to stop. But Danilo kept driving. After a time, he told me he was sorry for taking me there. “I didn’t understand how painful it would be for you.”
“I’ve told you often enough.”
“I’m sorry. But seeing it… I had to see it. It’s part of you, even if it’s a part you’ve closed off. I’d like you to see where I was born someday.”
“Egypt?”
“Yes, of course.”
I touched his hand, then pulled back. “You know I’d love that.”
“Then we’ll go.”
“Next summer? I can’t go while I have class. Neither can you, for that matter. You have to teach, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Are you teaching any advanced classes? I can rearrange my schedule and I could…”
“No, nothing but intro courses this fall. In the spring, though…”
“I’ll be in the front row. I’ll dust your erasers.”
When we finally reached Pittsburgh, it was twilight and the rainstorm was just ending. There were a few flashes of distant lightning, but that was all. The city was quiet with that after-the-storm stillness, no one in sight, only the sound of water guttering its way through the streets. We pulled up in front of my place. There were lights on. Justin and Greg. I didn’t want to see them, either of them.
“Come inside with me. I want them to see us kiss.”
He smiled. “Just kiss?”
“Yes, professor, just kiss. I have some modesty, after all.”
“Pointless emotion.”
He helped me carry my things inside. There was no sign of them; they were in Justin’s room. I put my arms around Danilo, and we kissed and held each other for a long moment. Bubastis came scampering out of the kitchen and rubbed against our legs, obviously happy I was home.