bloodstream.
When he had performed this spirited display the priest peered closely at the glistening innards lying on the platter to give the tissues a studious inspection with the tip of an ivory pointer. Prodding carefully at the entrails, he nodded appreciative mutterings to himself and shared approving glances and mutterings with Kenamun. The assembled priests voiced choral responses confirming his wise discernments in their native language.
Suddenly with a gasp and an exclaimed 'Yes, by Amun!' he sighted something significant among the fleshy debris. It demanded closer inspection.
Calling on Kenamun to respectfully hold a section of delicate gut to a lamp between his fingers, Pachrates peered closely at a bump in the connective tube of an organ. He reached to the innards and rolled the bump delicately between his venerable priestly digits.
'Yes!' he cried in his heavy-accented Latin, 'A miracle, my lord! Great Caesar of the Romans, please allow me permission to incise your companion's remains to retrieve a special boon of the god Osiris himself.'
Hadrian grudgingly nodded to Macedo to inspect the priest's claim. Macedo, not usually squeamish about matters involving corpses, moved to see what Pachrates was talking about. He gingerly fingered the intestine at the place the priest was holding, and turned to Hadrian with some apprehension.
'Caesar, there appears to be a scarlet jewel within the entrails,' he announced. Do you wish me to retrieve it?'
'The gut is sealed by Nature's hand, so it can't have been inserted into the tissue,' Pachrates declared.
Hadrian again tiredly nodded. Macedo took his hip dagger and carefully incised the diaphanous tissue. Something small and hard popped out into his hand. A priest came forward with a small bowl of perfumed water and a towel to rinse the object, which was then passed carefully to Pachrates. Pachrates held the object high between finger and thumb to the light of the nearest torch to inspect its features closely.
He turned to Hadrian and uttered an impressive exclamation in his inscrutable language while holding the object high to display to the assembled notables.
'Great Caesar, your humble servant of Amun, Pachrates, Sage of Heliopolis, offers proof to vindicate the death of the youth Antinous. In divining the auspices of the entrails of the young man I see no messages of despair or disease or death. No, not at all. I see no imperfection, no dire omens, no divine warning. I see nothing but health and wholesomeness, healing, and future hope!'
Pachrates paused to assess the effect of his pronouncements upon the assembly. Their eager eyes and engrossed attention were very winning.
'Yet further Caesar, on inspecting these entrails more intimately I discover this miraculous trophy. Concealed within the entrails at a place no mortician can reach, inches beneath the heart of the boy, lies a blood-hued gem generated spontaneously within the organs of the youth. Behold! I raise it high!
It is a likeness of the god Osiris himself fashioned as a blood jewel. It is just as our ancients prophesy of a Nile sacrificial drowning! The youth's own bloodstream has transfigured into an icon of the god Osiris himself! Within the very organs of the drowned victim is the visible sign that the youth metamorphed into the god Osiris, the Dionysus of Egypt, the dying and reborn god of the seasons! It is a holy, sacred apotheosis!'
Pachrates was warming to his role. His voice rose higher in increasingly joy.
'Through the death of the mortal Antinous our god Osiris resurrects again on the third day! Osiris is reborn in Antinous! Antinous is reborn as Osiris! Antinous is sanctified as Divus! Divine-like! The youthful vitality of Antinous transmutes into the lifeforce of Pharaoh! Praise to the life-giving boon of Antinous-Osiris of Egypt!'
Pachrates voice soared in rising emotion, encouraging the assembly to heightened enthusiasm.
Suetonius immediately recalled the phrase 'an exchange of boons' from somewhere among the recorded testimonies. It suggested Pharaoh/Caesar had now acquired the vitality of the twenty-three year old Bithynian by some sort of magical exchange. Was Urbicus correct in his claim about Pachrates after all? Suetonius pondered, or was Balbilla following somehow in her grandfather's steps on behalf of the Augusta?.
Pachrates proudly strode to Hadrian and placed the small scarlet figurine into the open palm of his hand. Hadrian cast his eyes over it with delicacy and distinct reserve. He seemed uncertain of the object. Pachrates continued his performance.
'My Lord Caesar, wear this mystical amulet deriving from the very bloodstream of Antinous of Bithynia. Adorn yourself for evermore with this jewel,' the hierarch declaimed for all to hear. 'This miraculously-generated icon transfers the health and years of the dead youth to you, our Princeps, the Pharaoh of our world. It expresses the Hidden God, Amun-Re's, beneficence to our generation! We all rejoice in Antinous, Osiris Reborn!'
Pachrates, Kenamun, and the assembled priests bowed low in a choreographed flourish towards the emperor.
The biographer and Surisca exchanged questioning glances.
Hadrian's demeanor transformed. His brow darkened. His skin perceptibly grayed. Signs of excruciating pain glinted from his eyes. His lips blanched into an aggrieved thinning. A stoop descended upon him whose very burden aged him a decade in seconds. His cough revived in his craw.
He raised himself shakily from the throne to glance dartingly from the blood-red jewel in his palm, to the cadaver serene upon the bier, to the glistening viscera lying larded on the golden platter. Several hundred pair of eyes watched his every motion.
Those observing this escalating transformation stiffened in uncertainty at the emperor's looming disposition. The priests intuitively stepped back a pace as they braced in anticipation of something ominous. None had previously witnessed such a rancor fall across their emperor's features. Hadrian was on the verge of eruption. Its sight numbed marrows, chilled blood, and weighed tongues.
With a wounded howl fit to harrow Hades himself, Hadrian leaned at the side of the throne to forcefully discharge his entire stomach's contents onto the flagstones nearby. He vomited a voluminous projectile spray across the slabs, splattering the sandals and boots of both Governor Titianus and Geta standing to the side of the throne, as well as Macedo and a guardsman nearby.
The putrid discharge displayed streaks of black blood and emitted a malodorous stench into the sanctuary.
A deep groan surged across the assembly.
Geta leaped to Caesar's aid to hold his elbow to offer support. The Augusta, remained upright in her seat, immobile, entranced. The entire entourage remained stiffly rooted to their places. No soldiers moved, no pages approached, no priests knelt.
Suetonius glanced around the faces before him. All were grave, except one. Decurion Scorilo, standing at the head of his detachment of Horse Guards, his eyes firmly planted on his commander in chief, the emperor, was assimilating every tremor of Caesar's distress. He was subtly alight with an expression akin to a smile. Suetonius determined it was the token of some inexplicable victory.
Meanwhile, on looking to Governor Titianus, his consort Anna Perenna, and Centurion Urbicus nearby, he could see each was severely restraining their emotions. The Augusta was formally, immutably composed, while Balbilla was visibly discomforted.
Arrian was troubled. Vestinus was agitated. Macedo displayed increasing alarm. Commodus exuded confident apprehension, distracted by checking his vestments and hair for stains or spots.
Hadrian braced himself on the throne's armrest to cast his eyes at the two hierarchs before him. After a short, choked coughing bout and clearing his throat, he gathered his composure sufficiently as his voice weakly rasped into the cavernous gloom. His gaze had settled wistfully on the figure upon the bier. But his words were not what the gathering could have anticipated.
'Little soul, roamer and charmer,
My body's comrade and its sometime guest,
What dominion now must be your goal,
Pale and stiff and naked?
Unable now, like us, to jest.'
The assembly stood rock still in oppressive silence. Many wondered whose soul Caesar reflected upon. His own or that of the figure on the bier? And what did 'sometime guest' convey?
Then Hadrian's voice resumed its usual commanding resonance. It grew in power as he spoke.
'Priests of Isis, Serapis, and Amun, place a worthy gold coin on the Bithynian's tongue for his journey's fee with Charon to the Land Of The Dead.
