I hesitated, trying to find the words to be judicious. While I knew that Apicius also did not like his mother, I was a slave, and to be critical of any matron was not wise. I didn’t dare mention that when I did cross her path she called me vulgar names and told me all the ways she’d cursed me.
“I try to stay out of her way,” I said truthfully. “She complains about most of the food sent to her room even though she eats half of it before she sends it back.”
“I don’t understand why someone doesn’t want the ridiculous dowry I have offered up. Do so many others know how awful she is?” he muttered as he sliced the beets with a vengeance.
“Watch your fingers, Dominus!”
He slowed his chopping. “You can’t trust her. Be careful.” He set the knife down. “I have another matter to discuss. Thanks to you, I now have a new problem to manage.”
A knot of worry took hold of my stomach. I prided myself on not inciting more of my master’s wrath than a cuff on the back of the head. Apicius was mostly fair, but I learned early on that it would not do to cross him; in that regard he was similar to his mother. Only a week before, one of the slaves carrying Apicius’s litter had stumbled on a rock and Apicius had Sotas beat him in public in the center of Baiae. I ran through last week’s menus in my mind, trying to remember if anything had gone wrong.
I wiped my hands on a towel. “Dominus, I work hard to do your bidding. I have never wanted to be a problem to you. Please tell me what I can do to be better in your service.”
Apicius smiled. “You mistake my words. My problem is a happy one. You see, I have to figure out how I can keep track of the long list of clients and associates wanting a dinner invite! Everyone is talking about you. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me what new succulent dishes my coquus has devised!”
The pressure in my chest eased.
“I want you to help me manage my clients. Up until now I’ve not needed to worry. I know my secretary could help me keep track, but I think that you, as the keeper of my kitchen and the source of my guests’ delight, should have a say in helping me make the right determinations. In my mind the coordination of the guests is as important as the coordination of the food. I know how you work. Your mind is strong and nothing escapes you. My secretary is good at figures but not at the nuances of understanding people, food, and feast. We’ll start at the salutatio. I’ll inform him that he will train you.”
Apicius was asking me to take on one of the most important roles in the household—advising him about clients during their morning visits.
“Are you sure, Dominus? I have never served in that capacity before. I’m just a cook.”
Apicius raised an eyebrow at me. “You are more than a cook. You are the key to my success. It’s time for you to demonstrate just how much.”
I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. For a master to give so much credit to a slave was unheard of. While a part of me was pleased, another part was terrified at the task he was suggesting.
“Rúan can manage the morning meal. On feast days one of my secretaries can step in to advise me so you can be in the kitchen, but on most mornings, I want you by my side.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I was surprised at how happy I was at his words. I knew managing his client affairs alongside meals would be a great deal of work, but it seemed to me more of a reward than I had ever had before.
For the first time in my life I thought there might be something greater in my future than working hard as a kitchen slave, toiling for my monthly peculium until I turned thirty-five, and would, at the mercy of my master, be eligible for manumission.
“I am honored, Dominus.” I didn’t trust myself to say anything more.
“Good. I feel good about this, Thrasius.”
After we sliced up the rest of the vegetables, I showed Apicius one of the recipes I had in mind, beet leaves stuffed with a mixture of chopped leeks, coriander, cumin, and raisins, bound together with a bit of flour and water. Together we tied up the leaves into small bundles, which would be boiled when it was closer to the dinner hour. At the evening’s convivium, they would be served in a sauce of liquamen, oil, and vinegar.
When we had finished tying off the last of the beet bundles, Passia came into the kitchen, Apicata in tow. My heart raced.
“I’m hungry!” Apicata declared. Her dark hair was pulled back into a braid and tied with saffron-colored ribbons, her blue tunica marred by smudges of dirt. I smiled. Even children of nobility liked to play in the mud.
“You are always hungry!” Apicius said, his deep voice booming. “It’s as though I sired a bear, not a daughter!”
“I’m not a bear!” She placed her hands on her hips.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I know what will help,” I said, picking up a nearby radish. I began carving it into a rose with delicate petals. Although they had seen me carve vegetables before, Apicius, Passia, and Apicata sat in rapt attention as I turned several of the radishes into flowers.
“A beautiful lady should have beautiful flowers.” I placed a small cluster of radish flowers in Apicata’s hand. On impulse, I presented one of the radish flowers to Passia. Much to my disappointment, she handed it to Apicata.
Apicata was delighted. “Are you sure I can eat these? They’re so pretty!”
“Eat up, sweet one. And if you ask, I am sure Thrasius will make a pear patina tonight.” Apicius’s voice always held a special warmth when he addressed his daughter.
“Please, Thrasius! I love it when you make the pears pretty!”
I laughed at her description of the fruit, honey, and egg dish. I always added an extra layer of pears on top, and I had to admit, they did look pretty once they were cooked and shining with oil. “I would be pleased to make that for you, little Domina.”
Spontaneously, Apicata ran around the table and gave me a big hug. She ran back to Passia and together they left the kitchen.
“She likes you,” Apicius observed. He took off the apron protecting his tunic and laid it on the counter.
“She is charming,” I replied, though I wished Apicius had been talking about Passia. “She reminds me of my sister.” Or at least she reminded me of what I thought I remembered about the little girl whom I was separated from so long ago. I was a twin, born to a slave woman who died in childbirth and whose name I never knew. My sister and I were raised by another slave in a respected domus in Pompeii until we were four. When that patrician died, the household slaves were willed to several different relatives and we were separated. I don’t know what happened to her.
“And you. You like Passia.” Apicius fingered one of the carved radishes that hadn’t fit into Apicata’s hand.
I froze, unsure of what to say.
What Apicius said next shocked me more than if Jupiter himself had appeared in the kitchen.
“I will let Passia know she is to make herself available to you as you desire.”
I dropped my knife. It clattered to the floor with a noise that caught the attention of a few nearby slaves.