“Can’t fault you for that. I’m more of a battlefields tour kind of guy, but the Mrs. here likes romance novels and she’s the one who wanted to do this tour. It has been inspiring for us both.” He playfully elbowed his wife in the ribs. “If you know what I mean.”

  She slapped his arm away. “Behave.”

  Adrian’s cell chirped. He stepped away from the group. “You go on now. Explore!” He answered his phone. “Yes?”

  “Adrian, it is I, Nasser. My vehicle is delayed in a long line at a checkpoint. The actors and I...we cannot make the first reenactment. It is the oddest thing. It seems an item was stolen from the museum and all cars are being searched.”

  “What was stolen?”

  “His name, Adrian. The name Antinous. The slab from Antinoöpolis bearing the hieroglyphs of his name. On this day, of all days—someone has chosen to steal his very essence and his connection to Osiris and the place where he was deified.”

  Because he’s here in the flesh? Is this a timeline glitch? “Wow. All right. I can pitch hit. I have someone here who knows the story well and he and I can...act it out. I have a couple of robes in the van, and why I haven’t taken it out I’ll never know...a subligaria.”

  “To be honest to the scene, Adrian, you should be nude.”

  “No one wants to see that.”

  “You would be surprised what is considered beautiful.”

  Adrian glanced at Antinous. Yes. Beautiful. “I got this, my friend. Call me when you get out of the snarl. Maybe the evening tour will see your actors nude along the Nile.” He ended the call and turned to Antinous, who had not moved too far away.

  “Want to help me save this tour?”

  Antinous laughed. “Of course.”

  “The reenactment players will be quite delayed. How would you feel about drowning again?”

  “Ah. You and I shall be the actors of my demise. I can assure you, I know exactly what happened, but do you?”

  Adrian nodded. “Historically speaking, yes.”

  “What of the events in your heart? Do you recall Hadrian sinking into the mud at the Nile’s edge, holding my lifeless body? He wept bitterly. He wanted to die. It was then Osiris planted a seed of life in his mind. And I was proclaimed a god by the living deity of the Roman Empire. My body breathed no longer but my spirit was exalted, and I rose into the heavens.”

  “Coach me.”

  “I can do better than that.” Antinous reached for Adrian’s hand and guided him into the mists of the past again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sailing south on the Nile, going from the Upper to the Lower Kingdom was a welcome respite from the drudgery and dust of the encampment. It wasn’t his barge—he’d borrowed one from an Egyptian nobleman and friend of the empire. It was an amazing vessel. Flat bottomed with a large center sail and a dozen oarsmen. It provided shade for guests as they lounged and had room for servants and even a cook.

  “This is the life, eh, Antinous?”

  “Wherever we have roamed, Caesar, I have considered that place heaven, but truly, the breeze I feel now has been sent by the gods. How smoothly we glide along the swollen Nile. Why even the crocodiles are docile in our wake.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Hadrian stretched out his arms. “Come here.”

  Antinous gladly fell against the emperor’s chest and sought his eager mouth. They kissed passionately, without thought for whom might stand witness. The servants certainly didn’t care. Only a senator might raise an eyebrow—and they were far away.

  “I love you, Antinous. You are my air. My oasis. My first cup of posca after a long day with my troops. You are my staff along this most perilous journey as Caesar and divine Emperor of Rome. My borders begin and end with you. Outside those secure borders I shall not travel unless you are by my side.”

  Antinous pressed his lips against Hadrian’s. “I love you. I always will.”

  Hadrian chuckled. “Perhaps I shall entreat the gods to fashion us into stars that we may shine forever.”

  “Yes. Wherever we are together, is home. Be it here—on this glorious barge along the Nile—or in the night sky.”

  “Fill our cups, Antinous.”

  Antinous rose and then poured two cups of posca. “To our love.” He passed a cup to Caesar, and they drank the vinegared wine. “Hadrian, this wine is the most bitter thing in our lives. I am so very blessed by your love.”

  “Offer the oarsmen a cup, Antinous. Let us all celebrate this much needed respite from the day-to-day grind of soldiering. Five days have we to relax and revel in this sacred time of the Nile’s flood. We can make offerings to Hapi and Osiris. Pour a posca over the side for the gods.”

  “Perhaps the gods will not enjoy the wine of soldiers. We should offer something of a higher grade. Have we any mulsum? Let’s give the gods something sweet and spicy.”

  “Clever lad. Currying favor with fine offerings.” Hadrian laughed.

  Antinous poured cups of posca and then handed them to the men on the oars. The barge floated a bit—though the lack of oars to water did not make a particular difference, for they were experienced Roman sailors who understood the phrase smooth sailing. They were at a narrow point in the great length of the river. During its inundation, it ballooned as if pregnant in some areas and closed in others as if it had delivered. The Nile’s waters brought life to Egypt. Sacred river. Sacred flood.

  Hadrian laid back on his settee and opened his arms to embrace Antinous. His wide reach and broad chest made for a potent hug—strong and arousing. Antinous kissed his throat. “Your touch awakens my body.”

  “Oh?” Hadrian slid his hand inside his lover’s subligaria. “I see. Perhaps it is the breeze off the water and the wine that has made you so...hard.”

  “No, my love. It is being with you. Flesh to flesh. Your scent intoxicates.”

  “Would you like more posca?”

  “I’ve already had three cups. This wine is stronger than usual.”

  “Nothing but the best for you.” Hadrian encircled Antinous’ penis with his thick fingers and pulled. “Come for me, my love.”

  Antinous tossed his head back and thrust his hips to meet Hadrian’s grasp. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation. Until he opened them. “Oh, Hadrian. Look!”

  “Now?”

  “Priests of Osiris in ritual.”

  “Forgive me, Antinous. I do wish to see that. We shall continue soon.” Hadrian rose and went to the edge of the barge. “Ah...they perform an opening of the eyes on Osiris’ statue. How rare a spectacle.”

  Antinous couldn’t reply. His focus was directed solely on the eyes of the statue, which were newly painted white. He felt the effigy’s gaze penetrate him. He shuddered. I am violated by the will of Osiris. I am called to his service, though it means I must leave Hadrian. Do I regret my pact? No. I regret nothing. Hadrian will die an old man in his bed and not at the hands of an assassin or by some wasting disease. Antinous called to the god. And found the god waiting. Is it time, my lord?

  It is time, Antinous. Divinity flowed through Osiris’ voice as it echoed in Antinous’ mind and heart.

  The voice reminded him of the wind whistling through the sands. So soon?

  Yes.

  How am I to die?

  The Nile shall swallow you. Your lungs shall fill, and your life shall end. Within the moment between light and darkness, you shall be raised on high and given divinity.

  By you.

  It will be by Caesar’s decree and by my hands you are made.

  I fear he will never be the same...after my demise.

  Drink your wine and make love to your mate. And when the Nile reaches for you, embrace her. Be one with the flood. In inundation comes renewal.

  “I shall honor our agreement,” Antinous whispered.

  “Of course you shall,” Hadrian replied. “Is this not marvelous? Painted priests in their linen robes, opening the eyes of their god and blessing his name and the lifegiving flood waters. I’m very glad to have witnessed this.”

  It is not to you, my love, that I replied but to Osiris at the hour of my death. And my rebirth. “Yes, as am I.” Antinous took a few steps so he was under the canopy again and then poured posca. He drank it quickly. Then poured another. “Hail Osiris, god of agriculture who brings life to the desert.” He raised the cup and emptied it with three large gulps.

  “My love, the wine and the spectacle along with the gentle roll of this barge would see me sleep for a bit. Will you lay with me?”

  “Of course.” Antinous crawled in between Hadrian’s arms, his back to Caesar’s belly. It was warm and comforting. And he knew it was his last time. He snuggled in, desirous of capturing the moment. Something I can take with me. Something to recall for all time. Hadrian’s body against mine. Me, in his arms. There is no greater love than ours. In the distance, the priests of Osiris called their prayers over the water. Lifegiving water soon to close around him and send him to his next great adventure. If only I could take Hadrian with me...

  Antinous rose from the settee and stood at the prow of the ship. The oarsmen were asleep. Night had fallen. The anchor dropped. The sky was a million pinpoints of light and their reflection on the Nile made it appear as though two million stars stood witness to his actions. What I do now, I do for Hadrian and to honor Osiris. He turned to take one last look at his sleeping love.

  He silently went over the edge. No struggle. No indecision. Without hesitation, he allowed the Nile to fill his lungs and take him. The burning desperation subsided quickly when he opened himself to the flood.

  Everything went dark.

  No stars.

  No reflection.

  No embrace.

  No life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dawn did not break tranquil and calm. The energy on the barge grew chaotic as Hadrian realized Antinous was not in his arms, nor on the boat. He tore through the furnishings and awakened the servants to question them. “What did you see? Where is Antinous?” No one had seen anything. “He was drinking. Did he fall overboard? If he did, even after several cups of posca, I’m certain he could swim. Antinous is a strong swimmer.”

  The oarsmen and servants on the barge cowered in fear as the emperor raged. Hadrian was a large, loud, angry, panicked man. “I should kill you all for allowing this!” Caesar’s wrath at his empty arms tore the barge apart. Exhausted, Hadrian did not punish them. He sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands as if praying.

  By all the gods, where is he? He steeled his nerves and pushed the dire emotional ache in the pit of his stomach down deep. I am Caesar. I am the voice of the gods on Earth. They will not take my love from me. They cannot do this terrible thing. Hadrian scanned the length and width of the barge, and then spotted the body of his lover tangled in reeds on the east bank. His throat grew dry, and he trembled as he commanded the rowers to pull the barge toward the reeds.

  Though thirty seconds from command to stroke had passed, he could not wait. He would not wait. Too slow! Hadrian dove into the Nile and swam to Antinous. He must live. He must live! But he knew Antinous no longer drew breath. As he lifted his head between strokes, fighting tears and withholding insane panic, he saw the pallor of death on his beloved. And there was blood. Blood in the water from a gash across Antinous’ forehead. He fell in and hit his head. He drowned. He reached the body and carefully pulled him ashore. Antinous is dead.

  Hadrian waded through the thick mud, pushing aside the reeds and lotuses until solid ground was beneath his feet. He swaddled Antinous in his arms. He held him close and rocked. He kissed the cold lips and stroked the bloodied, muddied hair. “Live,” he begged. “Live.”

  Antinous had no pulse. No breath. No warmth. Black hollows hid glassy eyes and his skin had taken on a pale blue pallor. Hadrian forsake any semblance of dignity and wept openly. No greater mourning had ever befallen an emperor. No greater mourning had befallen any human. Deep, guttural sounds of grief so vast and all-encompassing it nearly sucked his breath from him and robbed him of his own life. Hadrian railed against the profoundly denigrating emotions overtaking him. He turned to vomit. He soiled himself in the turmoil of this greatest of loss. He cared not. He uttered great, vehement curses. At the Nile. At the wine. At his own arms for not being strong enough to hold Antinous during the night. He took a deep, long breath and screamed into the brightening day. He reached for his blade, still tucked into its sheathe at his waist. Though he wore only a loincloth, it was rare that Caesar was ever unarmed. He pulled out the dagger and aimed it at his chest. “I shall not live without you, Antinous.”

  A bystander—an Egyptian—lunged at Hadrian and stayed his hand. “No, Caesar. You must not!” Osiris, himself, divine god of the Nile flood, has spoken to my heart and I know Antinous shall achieve so much more than he could on this Earth. He is a god. He is part of Osiris now. “I am a priest of Osiris, Caesar. I have heard the words of my god, most noble Emperor Pharoah.”

  Hadrian dropped his blade. “I cannot continue without him. Do you understand a love so deep that one heart is shared by two?” He hung his head and sighed. “If he is not to live at my side, then whatever divinity there is in me must pass to him. Antinous was more than a man to me. More precious than all the grains of sand in Egypt.” Hadrian paused, carefully choosing his words. “I proclaim Antinous a god.” He looked through swollen eyes at those gathered around him on the west bank of the river. He took note of the plaintive look on the face of the priest of Osiris hovering nearby. Hadrian, still holding his knife, opened his palm and slit a long gash from little finger to thumb. “By this blood, and by my divine right, I proclaim Antinous shall be remembered, as a man, and as he ascends into the afterlife, as a god. Let every man know his name. Let every man make offerings and sing praises. May his name be carved into stone to last ten thousand years and may all know he sits with Osiris in the afterlife. He shall be a benevolent god. A god of healing and beauty, for none were more pleasing to the eye than he.” He placed his bloodied palm against Antinous’ sallow chest, leaving a deep red imprint. “Hail Antinous, my lover. My god.”

  The crowd, once hushed, took this as their cue to respond to Hadrian’s grief. The moments were shocking and horrific. Many drowned in the Nile. None were loved by the ruler of the known world. “Hail Antinous! Hail!” It was almost in unison—this sudden and fearfully coerced deification. There could be no other reply to Hadrian’s tearful proclamation. To protest or laugh or show scorn or disdain would mean death. They knew it. And thus began their veneration of Antinous.

  The Egyptian placed a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder.

  “Caesar.” His voice soothed Hadrian.

  “You are a priest of Osiris.”

  “Yes, mighty emperor...our god has spoken to us and has accepted Antinous into his arms. Hail the divine one, Osiris-Antinous. To drown in the Nile during the flood is most auspicious. Though Antinous may have fallen, or been pushed and murdered, or made the ultimate sacrifice—he now stands with Osiris. May he be remembered. Hail Antinous.”

  Hadrian took the man’s hand. “Yes. Yes.”

  “Osiris accepts sacrifices during the inundation of the Nile. With our greatest sorrow at your loss and greatest rejoicing that it is this beautiful boy who now stands as divine with our god, let us celebrate his ascension.”

  “This is sacred ground. And here Antinous shall be honored. I shall build a city in this place with a great temple to Osiris and Antinous. I wish his tomb to rival the pyramids.”

  “We shall implore our builders to make it so,” the priest replied.

  “It shall be called Antinoöpolis.” He wrapped Antinous’ body even tighter in his arms. “He must be exalted. Remembered.” He looked at the faces of the gathering crowd. “You, centurion!”

  An older man in full armor stepped forward. “Caesar.”

  “Take Antinous’ body and prepare it for burial. Not as a Roman, but as an Egyptian. Find an embalmer. Priest, do you know of a man dedicated to Osiris who can preserve Antinous’ body?”

  “Yes, Caesar. I shall lead your man to him, but please, the body must be moved from the water’s edge and mud. It shall be cleaned and perfumed with great care prior to entering the preservation room. The entire process will take about forty-five days. Time enough to begin your city.”

  Hadrian released his grip on Antinous and allowed the centurion to lift Antinous from the mud and reeds. “Farewell, my love.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adrian nearly toppled from the jolt of leaving the past behind. “I understand.”

  Antinous held his hand and helped keep him steady. “Yes. I bet you do.”

  “The only thing I can think of is a line from an Edgar Allen Poe poem. We loved with a love that is more than love.”

  “Can you embrace the past and pull forward into our future?”

  Adrian nodded. Fuck. “I think so. Yes. Let’s get today’s tours finished and we’ll talk.”

  “With my death so fresh in your heart and mind, can we recreate the scene for your tourists?”

  “Let’s. I believe nothing in my life prepared me for this moment and yet I recall every second of your death and my grief in vivid detail.” Adrian paused. He took a deep breath, then exhaled forcefully. “I am Hadrian.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adrian accepted that he was in shock. His body was numb, and though he went through the motions of the passion play of Antinous’ death, it was almost too real for his guests. He saw the looks on their faces.

  Antinous took the reenactment very seriously. He laid along the shore, nude. Adrian had dressed in the subligaria and a simple tunic. He hoped the moral police of Egypt’s far right did not arrest them. He is a god, doing a god’s work. Surely...no one will notice.

  He addressed his tour. “Due to a theft at the museum, traffic is backed up for hours in Cairo. The actors cannot join the afternoon tour. However, I, and our guest, Alexander, are very familiar with the event, and will perform for you. We hope it is as moving for you as it must have been for the original spectators. I hope you can appreciate our performance.”