That surprised me. “Fannia tells him what to do?”
“Yes. Fannia Drusilla has been like a surrogate mother to Apicius since he was ten years old. She used to live next door to the Gavii in Minturnae. Dominus never saw much of his father and, well, when you get to know Popilla, you’ll understand why the two of them aren’t close.”
“Do Popilla and Fannia get along?”
“Ha!” Sotas scoffed. “No, Fannia and Popilla are always going at it. Apicius never listens to Popilla. It’s one reason Popilla has become such a bitter old shrew. She is constantly vying for her son’s attention.” He tilted his head in their direction.
Apicius’s voice rose as he became more animated. “Fannia, remember the time when Mother held that big cena for Consul Calpurnius Piso?” He patted Popilla on the shoulder in a bit of lighthearted, but obvious, pity. Popilla shrugged his hand off. Her eyes were black and hard.
“Yes! That cena was a shipwreck,” Fannia teased Popilla. “Poor dear, you didn’t know the first thing about throwing a dinner party. The wine was plonk from Surrentine, the shrimp were tough, and you didn’t even serve a gustatio to start the guests out!” Fannia waved her spoon as she spoke. “I had to take things into my own hands for the next party! Thank the gods Apicius was a quick study!”
Popilla seethed, concentrating on the plate before her, scooping up tidbits of ham and pastry with her fingers. Her would-be suitor had shifted a few more inches away from her over the course of the conversation.
When Popilla spoke, it was to pose a barbed question to Fannia. “Where is Pulcher this evening?”
Popilla’s question left a sheen of tension in the air as thick as a temple curtain. Celera drew in an audible breath and Apicius seemed to bristle. Fannia was the only one who seemed unperturbed. “Pulcher is in Macedonia negotiating a new trade line of wine.” She turned to Apicius.
“Would you like me to put in an order for a few amphorae of the latest vintage? I imagine you have room in one of your cellars.”
Popilla delivered her own perfect, hemlock-edged smile. “You and Pulcher make such a sweet couple. I imagine you miss him very much. Will he be home in time for the Saturnalia festival?”
A large flock of seagulls flew overhead with a raucous noise, turning the diners’ attention away from Popilla’s question. Excited conversation broke out as the guests tried to contemplate what the sign meant. Popilla looked so angry at the distraction, I thought she might burst.
Sotas chuckled softly next to me. “Serves the old witch right.”
“Who’s Pulcher?”
“Fannia’s new husband, Quintus Claudius Pulcher. Her first husband died a few years ago and recently Fannia was forced to marry Pulcher by her cousin, Livia. You know, Caesar’s wife?”
I coughed with surprise.
“Yes, that Livia,” Sotas continued. “When Livia was made to divorce Tiberius Claudius Nero in favor of Caesar Augustus, she was more devastated than most would guess. Especially when Fannia started sleeping with her ex-husband.”
“I imagine that would make Livia a little angry.”
“Quite angry. She and Fannia used to be close until that happened so the betrayal was even more of an affront. There was no proof, only widespread rumors from her slaves, so Livia had to be creative in her revenge. You know that rule, the one Caesar put in place that men and women need to be married?”
“Yes, I know it. Dumb rule, in my opinion.”
“Most would agree with you. At any rate, Livia suggested to Caesar that Fannia marry Pulcher, and Caesar made it so.”
I saw Rúan appear at the doorway on the other side of the triclinium. He saw me and waved his arms.
“What’s so bad about Pulcher?” I asked, knowing I should go but wanting to hear the rest of the strange tale.
“When Fannia was young, Pulcher’s family and Fannia’s were once close and often vacationed together. Rumor has it that on one of those shared holidays, someone raped and strangled Fannia’s older sister and dumped her body into a fountain. There was no proof but Fannia has always sworn it was Pulcher.
“Jump forward fifteen years and Fannia, who was newly widowed, makes the mistake of sleeping with Livia’s ex-husband. Livia was furious. She bided her time and when Pulcher’s wife died, she exacted her revenge and made sure Fannia was the one to remarry Pulcher. The one thing that Livia didn’t count on was that Pulcher is always traveling, meaning that Fannia barely sees her husband. They despise each other and he stays far away.”
The sun had set and the last red and pink streaks had begun to fade over the distant ocean. Apicius snapped his fingers at one of the slave boys to light the lamps.
“Go back through the house.” Sotas jerked his head toward the hallway behind him. “That way you don’t have to cross in view of everyone.”
I nodded and slipped behind him toward the corridor. There was a cluster of boys playing dice in the hall.
“You! Tycho! Now! Go light the lamps!” Behind me Sotas’s voice was low but cutting. A young boy about the age of seven, with a mop of dark curly hair, rushed forward while the other boys followed him to illuminate the diners.
I stopped one of the boys before he could get far and had him guide me through the halls back to the kitchen, where Rúan was frantic, wondering if the next course should go out. It would have been just my luck if I had gotten lost in the labyrinth of corridors in the domus.
The rest of the evening passed almost without incident. Apicius did not notice the missing glasses, Octavius begrudgingly agreed that the meal was delicious, and Popilla excused herself early because she was “tired.”
When the last of the meal was delivered and the wine was opened up, I leaned on the doorway and watched the plates of olives, grapes, fine cheeses, and honeyed almonds go out to the guests.
Apicius was talking with Trio and his wife, Celera. Celera reached for the just-delivered morels in wine. “When are you coming to Rome?” she asked Apicius.
“Not just yet,” said my new dominus. “I think we want to wait a couple of years until Apicata is older.”
The corners of Octavius’s mouth curled upward slightly. I thought it interesting that he was pleased Apicius would not be coming to Rome anytime soon.
“Besides, look at this view!” Aelia extended her hand toward the darkly glittering sea. “Why would we want to give this up? Even if I had a house in Rome, I would still want to be here!”
“True, true,” conceded Trio. “However, there is much to be said about Rome. The people, the parties, and, oh, the games! You must visit soon and we’ll take you to the races, or to see the gladiators! There is no finer sport than watching the gladiators!”
“I care little for the gladiators.” Aelia wrinkled her nose. “So barbarous!”
“Ahh, but I bet you might like the meat!”
She opened her mouth in a horrified O. “From the gladiators?”
The group broke out laughing.