The Blood of Kings

by John Michael Curlovich

  “I won’t, Jamie.” He lowered his voice to a smooth, silky whisper. “Not without you.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Jamie, so do I. Not unless I have no choice. And even then, I’ll make provision for you.”

  He touched my cheek. There was electricity in it. Or energy. Or… I didn’t know what. But the touch of his fingertip thrilled me.

  “You and I, Jamie, are bound by ties much stronger than anything the university could understand.”

  I looked into his eyes. And I believed him.

  We heard some other students coming up the steps, and we stepped apart. They were talking and giggling among themselves and barely seemed to notice us. They went into the classroom and we followed.

  “Good afternoon, everyone.” He checked the class roll. Everyone present. I overheard two of the girls whispering. They both had crushes on him. I can’t tell you how smug it made me feel.

  The lecture that day was on the earliest beginnings of Egyptian civilization. We learned how the country had been fragmented, a patchwork quilt of little fiefdoms, till it was united by the great warrior-king Narmer around 3100 B.C. We traced the reigns of his first descendants and saw slides of their tombs and monuments, such of them as still survived from that far-off time.

  The earliest kings, he told us, had not written their names in cartouches like the more familiar later pharaohs. Instead they put their names in rectangular frames called serekhs, which represented the façade of the royal palace. You could always tell when a serekh had a pharaoh’s name inscribed in it. It was mounted by a falcon, emblem of the god Horus.

  But as the slides were projected, I noticed that some of the early kings also had the Set Animal atop their serekhs, side by side with the falcon. And one of them had only the Set Animal. So, the cult of the demon-god wet back to the beginning of history.

  I waited for Danilo to explain the cult and the strange animal, but he only said that the two figures represented religious unification. As he explained it, he winked at me. Apparently the truth about the Egyptian kings and their private devotion to Set—Satan?—was for me alone.

  He expected us to do research papers. We could choose any aspect of Egyptian history or society that interested us. After class he was surrounded by students wanting to field ideas for them. I left without talking to him again.

  My coaches had always told me what coaches everywhere tell their athletes, I think: When you’re upset or preoccupied, work out till it passes. Make yourself too tired to think about whatever’s on your mind. Even if you’re simply falling in love, or in lust. I went to the gym and swam. It didn’t work. I knew that I was falling in love with Danilo.

  It was not an at-first-sight thing as it had been with Tim. With Danilo, the more I knew him the more I wanted to. I don’t know how much a boy of eighteen can know about love, real love, but it seemed to me I was learning.

  That night, in the darkness of my room, Danilo came to me.

  It was a warm night; all my windows were open. There was a summer breeze. Outside, as I was nodding off, I could see the quarter moon rising, white and enormous.

  Then I was deep asleep. Bubastis was on my pillow, purring softly. I didn’t know if I was dreaming, and I didn’t care. There he was, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bubastis got up and crossed to him; he picked her up and cuddled her, and she licked his cheek.

  I sat up. “How did you get here? How did you know where I live?” The breeze stirred the curtains.

  Instead of answering he kissed me. A long, deep, passionate kiss. It sounds corny, but it thrilled me; I felt like I had never really been alive before. I kissed back, hard as I could. He stroked my cheek.

  A sudden stiff gust rattled the windows. I opened my eyes. And was alone.

  * * *

  Very early the next morning, before the sun was up, I showered, dressed and went out. First I took a long walk. It was unusual for me; I had never been much for aimless strolls. Shadyside is an old section of the city, filled with wonderful Victorian houses. Sunrise made it all beautiful in a way I hadn’t noticed before.

  Then to the gym, much earlier than was usual for me. I swam for more than an hour, hoping to… I didn’t know what. To tire myself beyond my romantic fixation on Danilo, I suppose. I hadn’t had a calm night’s sleep for days. I was beginning to feel the strain. Still, Coach Zielinski said I was performing better and better.

  While I was in the shower Tim came in. He stood under the showerhead next to me and posed, obviously wanting to attract my attention. “Morning, Jamie.”

  “Tim.” I turned to face away from him.

  “Let me wash your back.”

  I couldn’t believe I was hearing it. My voice dripping with sarcasm, I asked him what would happen if someone saw us.

  “It’s too early for anyone else to be here.”

  “Still,” I mimicked his best paranoid style, “someone might come in.” I pretended to have a terrible realization. “Maybe your mother!”

  “Jamie, stop it.”

  I turned into Ingrid Bergman and made a big, melodramatic gesture. “Oh Tim, I’d simply die if anyone knew.”

  Tim caught me by the shoulders and shook me. “Will you stop it, for Christ’s sake?”

  I pushed him away. “You’re the one who needs to stop it. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “I want you.”

  “You had me. You ended it. Whose problem is that?”

  Pleading was getting him no place. He switched to a different tack. His voice turned slightly menacing. “Jamie, I’m bigger than you.”

  It caught me a bit off guard. “Are you threatening me with rape?”

  “Don’t put it like that.”

  “But that’s what this is, isn’t it? ‘Make love to me or I’ll force you.’” I rinsed off and started to walk away. He caught me by my shoulders again. I pushed him hard. He slammed into the wall and I kept going.

  “Stop!”

  I kept walking.

  “Jamie, stop!”

  I turned and looked at him.

  “Don’t make me do it, Jamie.”

  “The only thing I want to make you do is leave me alone. How many times do I have to repeat that?”

  “Jamie, will you think? We have the perfect cover now.” He held up his hand to show me his wedding ring, as if I might not have noticed it before. “No one will suspect. You should find a nice girl too. Then we’d be free to—”

  “‘Nice?’ Is that really the adjective you mean?”

  “I want you. I’m going to have you.”

  I walked back to him and got in his face. “Now listen to me, Tim. If you ever touch me again—so much as touch me—I’ll shout rape so loud they’ll hear me on the other end of the campus. See how long that ring stays on your finger then.”

  The threat shook him. “You—you wouldn’t. It would ruin your career here too.”

  “I’d be the unwilling victim, remember?”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Push me just a bit farther and see.”

  I could see half a dozen emotions in his face, none of them pleasant. He seemed not to know how to react. I had no idea if I’d really do what I threatened, but the mere threat was enough to stop him. I started to go again.

  “Jamie.”

  I paused and looked back over my shoulder.

  “Jamie, I love you.”

  “Jamie,” I mimicked him, “I love you and I’m going to brutalize you. What an empty human being you are.” We stared at each other without speaking for a few moments, then I turned and kept walking.

  Behind me he whimpered something, I couldn’t hear what. And I didn’t care. I got dressed, got my things and left.

  A few minutes later I was at the fine arts building. I needed Chopin. Not the quiet music, I played the wild, agitated Chopin, the etudes, the polonaises.

  Roland came in and I stopped. “You’re early today, Roland. Everyone seems to be.”

  He shrugged.
“Sleepless night. I shudder to think what I must look like.”

  “I just saw Tim.”

  “You’re on the same team. You can’t really avoid him, can you?” He was looking for something in his briefcase.

  “He threatened to rape me if I don’t go back to him.”

  Roland froze. It took him a moment to react. “Would he do it?”

  I played a few notes. “I don’t know. He’s four inches taller than I am. He’s probably stronger, if it comes to that.”

  “Do you want me to do anything?”

  “No, I just need to talk.”

  “If someone calls him on it—”

  “That’s what I told him. I told him if he ever even touches me again I’ll tell everyone on campus.”

  He sat down on the bench beside me. “That’s usually enough to silence that type. ‘Oh, good gosh, I could never have anyone know!’”

  “I know it. I think he’s scared. He got married last week.”

  Roland laughed. “They always think they’re being so subtle.”

  I fingered a key. “I’m scared, too.”

  “Never mind that he’s bigger than you—would he actually do anything to hurt you?”

  “I don’t know. He has a pretty big ego. Even when we were in high school.”

  “Swimmers do.”

  I looked at him.

  “Not you, Jamie. Whatever you are, you’re not a typical jock.”

  It was something I needed to hear, just then. “Thanks. But you’re right. He doesn’t seem to be able to deal well with rejection.”

  “Why don’t you let me have a word with him? Discreetly. I think I can scare him so he’ll never bother you again.”

  I stood up, nervous, then sat down again. “Can you do that? If he knows I told someone about this—”

  “Then he’ll know he’d be the first one suspected if anything happens to you.”

  I think I was actually shaking. He put an arm around my shoulder.

  “Please, Roland. Just make him go away.”

  “I’m a piano teacher, not Houdini. But I’ll do what I can.”

  I hugged, him, thanked him and started to gather up my things. It was almost time for class.

  My mind wasn’t really on Egyptology that day. Danilo lectured on the Old Kingdom, the early period when the Pyramids were built. I followed what he said, but in a distracted kind of way. When I was a kid, sometimes some of the other kids would threaten me with beatings, or worse. To have someone who said he loved me threaten me that way… I had no idea how to sort through all the unpleasant emotions.

  When it came time for questions the other students all had the same thing on their minds: slaves. Danilo had said once that there was no force involved in building the great monuments. The workers did what they did to keep busy during the infertile times in the Nile Valley. And out of love for the king. When he said that last bit, he looked straight at me.

  But the class didn’t believe him. Everyone “knows” slaves built the Pyramids. The little dispute went on and on; I was bored with it and with my classmates. Danilo finally ended it by suggesting the more insistent among them do their research papers on the subject.

  After class I lagged behind everyone else, I guess because of my mood. Danilo came over to my desk and asked me what was wrong.

  There was hardly any way I could tell him. I made a vague comment about personal problems and hoped he’d let it go at that.

  “Is there anything I can do to help, Jamie?”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

  “I can be a good listener.”

  “No, really, thanks Danilo, but there wouldn’t be any point.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Will you let me take you to dinner later?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Being near him wouldn’t have helped, not after what happened with Tim. “I really appreciate it but… but I think I need to be alone for a while.”

  His grip on my shoulder tightened a bit. “You’re not alone, Jamie. Not anymore.”

  I knew he meant this in a positive way, but it wasn’t really what I needed to hear. So many times he had seemed to be telling me something I couldn’t know or understand by myself. I stood up. “A rain check, okay?”

  He smiled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll be in my office most of the afternoon. Downstairs, Room 353. Stop by later, if you feel like it, and we’ll have dinner, all right?”

  “I’m not sure I feel like it. I don’t mean to blow you off, but—”

  “No, no, it’s quite all right. You know what you need.”

  I thanked him again, gathered up my things and left.

  Back at the apartment I switched on the keyboard and tried to play, but nothing felt right. I thought for a moment about going to back to the gym and doing some more laps, but there was no way I could do that. I kicked off my sneakers and stretched out on the couch.

  Bubastis had been sleeping under my bed. She came out, yawned and stretched, then came right to me. Purring happily, she jumped up onto my chest and curled up. A few moments later I fell asleep.

  * * *

  I woke up late in the afternoon. There had been dreams again, not about Danilo this time but about Tim, forcing himself on me. The dream had aroused me. When I realized it I felt a bit sick.

  Justin was home. He looked into my room. “I was wondering how long you’d sleep.”

  I sat up and yawned. “Long, lousy day.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  He wasn’t really the one to talk about it with. I told him I hadn’t slept well and felt out of sorts all day, and hoped he’d leave it at that. Thankfully he did.

  “I was thinking I’d bake a homemade pizza for dinner. Should I make it for two?”

  “Oh, thanks, Jus, but I’m not really hungry. I think I need to take a walk, or I’ll never sleep tonight.”

  “I know what you mean. I hate being like that.”

  I pulled my shoes on and got up. Justin disappeared back into the kitchen. Bubastis was off somewhere, doing something only another cat could understand. I went out.

  The sun was already low in the sky. It would be a warm evening. I walked around the neighborhood, lost in my thoughts, ignoring all the beautiful houses. I nearly walked past a voice student I knew. She planted herself in front of me. I made some embarrassed small talk, gave her an excuse and got away from her. All day long I had been telling people I’d had a bad day; I was sick of it.

  I couldn’t swim. I didn’t want to go anywhere near the gym. There was a practice meet that weekend in Philadelphia. Being on the bus with Tim for the trip would be unbearable.

  There was the museum. There was Danilo. I wasn’t at all sure being with him that evening was what I needed. But I honestly had no idea what else to do with myself.

  Room 353. The door was slightly open. I pushed it a bit. It was empty. I stepped inside. It was larger than the other faculty offices I’d seen. Compared to Roland’s it was like a pavilion.

  On the walls hung framed papyri, images of gods and pharaohs, pages from the Book of the Dead, some things I couldn’t recognize offhand. There was a long golden knife on the desk, covered with engraved hieroglyphs; I wondered why it wasn’t down in the vault. And there were some beautiful old engravings, Victorian I thought, of places in Egypt. The Pyramids, the colossi of Ramses the Great at Abu Simbel, temples and tombs, even a study of crocodiles on the bank of the Nile. Danilo’s world. Strange, beautiful, unlike anything I knew.

  On his desk an oversize book sat open, more old engravings. When I realized what it was open to I froze, astonished. It was a line drawing, intricate, elaborately detailed. Two pharaohs stood facing each other in a field of reeds and flowers. Each wore the royal crown; I didn’t understand how that could be. One was slightly larger than the other, or maybe slightly older. A man and a boy. Each extended a hand to touch the other one’s shoulder. And they were kissing.

  I told myself I couldn’t be seeing that, couldn’t
be interpreting it properly. If the kings of Egypt had been…

  Then I noticed the label at the bottom of the engraving: “The Kissing Kings. 18th Dynasty. Amarna.”

  The Kissing Kings. It was impossible to mistake their embrace, the affection. Even in the formal style of Egyptian art it was possible to see they were in love. And all I could think was that of all the millions of Egyptian images Danilo could have been studying, this was the one he chose.

  It was one thing too many to think about, that night. I walked for hours, around the campus, around my neighborhood. There were stars. There was a late moon. Academic Tower was floodlit, as always after dark. I couldn’t see them at all; all I could see was Danilo.

  It suddenly dawned on me that the next day was my birthday. Nineteen. Why did I still feel like a kid?

  Next morning a card came in the mail. Plain white, with just a written greeting on it, “For your special day, because everything about you is special. D.” I wondered how he knew the day. And how he knew I wouldn’t want to be fussed over. I had never wanted that. Not that there had ever been a chance of it before.

  Chapter Four

  For the next month things continued pretty much that same way. Swimming; work with Roland on Chopin, Poulenc and Schubert; ancient Egypt. Danilo and I talked often after class; once he took me down to the catacombs again, to show me a few things he had discussed in his lecture.

  Except for the fact there were no classes, weekends weren’t much different. I practiced on my keyboard instead of the grands at the fine arts building; I read about Egypt instead of hearing Danilo’s lectures.

  And most nights I dreamed; most nights it was about Danilo. Well, about Danilo and me.

  There were times I felt like I didn’t have a life independent of all that. I complained about it to Justin once.

  “That’s your life, Jamie. It’s the one you chose.”

  I hadn’t realized it, but he was right. “It’s going to seem really strange when the fall semester starts, and I have to take other classes.”

  “Poor Jamie, his life is turning ordinary.”

  “Poor Justin, he got the crap kicked out of him by his roommate for being a smartass.”