Teleny Novel

“Speak to me of these visions,” the priest requested. Camille, pausing as if weighing his response, finally replied: “I found myself contemplating loss. There exists a story of King Hadrian, who cherished Antonius with a remarkable devotion. Before my inner eye appeared the sun-lit sands of Egypt, wetted by the sluggish Nile river. I saw Hadrian wailing, holding his drowned lover. - Forlorn and disconsolate, as he had lost his beloved slave. Spellbound by the soft music Rene played, I now began to understand the love the mighty monarch felt for his fair Grecian slave, who died for his masters sake, leaving a lingering void in the kings heart, a mournful echo that rippled through time, forever inscribed in history. I became aware that the emotions coursing through me at this moment were vastly different from any I had known before. These emotions were akin to those that inspire bards to sing songs and ancient storytellers to narrate tales of the most exquisite companionships.” The priest frowned slightly at my observations and he asked: “What is it about this story that made it so vividly reminiscent of Rene at that precise moment?” Camille hesitated just briefly, then explained: “Rene appeared as one who would effortlessly draw a crowd, his every word captivating, his beauty a mirror to the elegance of Antonius, irresistible to all who witnessed him. You would have loved to hear him telling our story one day in his own words.” And then, with his expression shrouded in melancholy, Camille resumed: “Indeed, King Adrian must have been utterly devastated to face such a cruel twist of fate. Would it not have been wiser to revel in the blissful ignorance of sweetness, rather than endure the cruel emptiness left by its departure? And thereupon my blood, as if compelled by a mysterious directive, rushed from my heart to my head, only to course through every vein like molten lead.” Camille drew a deep, trembling breath as the priest watched him intently, silent but perceptive. Camille locked eyes with him, organizing his thoughts and picking up the story from where he had paused: “That thrilling longing I had felt grew more and more intense, the craving so insatiable that it was changed to pain. The burning fire had now been fanned into a mighty flame, and I needed to gasp for air while my whole body writhed with mad desire.”