I consulted my list. “Arvina?”
“You mean Gator Mouth.”
I laughed. Arvina had a mouth full of teeth that looked a bit too pointy to be real.
We continued to banter about names until the bath slave came to tell Sotas that Apicius was asking for him.
“Do you have a name for Dominus?” I asked as he stood to leave.
I had never seen Sotas look offended, but in that moment, he truly was. “May Fides strike me down, no.”
I watched him go, shocked at the depths of the loyalty he held for Apicius. What slave held his master in such high regard?
? ? ?
After the salutatio, I returned to the kitchen to help Rúan start preparations for the rest of the day. I was carving flowers and animals for Apicata’s prandium, the lunchtime snack, when Passia walked in.
I caught my breath at the sight of her, dreading the awkwardness that I expected to follow in the wake of the previous night’s encounter.
She came right to the table where I worked, ready to retrieve the tray, just as she did every day. I set it in front of her. My heart beat so hard that I was almost sure she could hear it.
“Thank you, Thrasius.”
She looked at me then, her dark eyes locking with mine. It was the first time she had ever said my name. Then she turned away, tray in hand.
“Wait! You forgot this,” I said, placing a large radish flower next to the plate on her tray.
She smiled at me, a small but genuine smile, held more in her eyes than on her lips. She nodded her head at me then departed.
That afternoon, before the cena, I ran to the temple of Venus in the center of town and left a honey cake at her feet.
? ? ?
A few days later, I awoke to the sound of women wailing in a distant part of the house. I scrambled from my bed and threw my clothes on. When I reached the commotion, I found Sotas and a handful of other guards in the hallway before Apicius’s bedchamber, waving curious slaves back to their duties. Passia stood in the corridor, her face a mask of worry. Before he sent me away, Sotas indicated that I should cancel the salutatio. He was too busy to explain further.
Passia fell into step with me on my way to the kitchen.
Surprised, but pleased, I asked her if she knew what had happened.
She nodded her head and folded her arms close to her body as she walked. “Domina miscarried. It’s the third child she has lost.”
Then I understood the shrieks of grief, which were likely not from Aelia but from her mourning slaves. I hadn’t even known Domina was pregnant, but suddenly I understood some of her strange food requests of the past few weeks.
Passia spat into the flower bed lining one edge of the atrium to ward against the evil eye. It was a strong gesture that I did not expect from someone like her.
“It’s Popilla. She cursed Domina. I know she did. She’s trying to force Apicius to put our Domina aside for not giving him an heir. She never thought Aelia was good enough for Apicius. No one is ever good enough. I bet there is a leaden scroll stuffed in the cracks of Popilla’s family crypt, filled with curses of hate and loathing for the people in her son’s life.”
“Do you think she’d do that?” I thought of the curses that flew in my direction every time I had the misfortune to run into her.
“I believe that with all my heart. She knows nothing but hatred.”
“It is strange to see such jealousy in a mother toward a son.”
“Her husband never loved her.” Passia wiped tiny beads of summer sweat from her brow. “When he was a child, Apicius was desperate to please his father and he emulated him in every way, including loathing his own mother.”
“So she is in conflict,” I mused. “She is desperate for Apicius’s attention, and yet she would do anything to destroy the things he loves.”
Passia nodded. “It’s made her easy to hate. Everything she does is dark and mean and petty. Personally, I think she gave her soul to Discordia. She desires nothing more than to wreak havoc on all those around her. She’s a selfish, bitter woman.”
Venom laced each of Passia’s words.
“You hate her even more than I do,” I said, venturing a guess. I marveled that she was talking to me at all and I wanted desperately to keep her attention.
“She killed my mother,” she said in a low, bitter voice.
I was shocked. I stopped and ushered her into the little chamber that often served as a breakfast area so we could be away from the prying eyes and ears of passing slaves. “What do you mean, she killed your mother?”
Passia looked away, her eyes scanning the painted garden frescoes on the walls. She seemed to be considering whether she wanted to continue the conversation.
“Apicius’s father purchased me and my mother when I was three. It was hard growing up in Minturnae with the Gavii. So hard, in fact, that for much of the time when I was young, my mother went out of her way to hide me. I spent most of my time keeping the slave chambers clean or helping out in the vineyards.”
She turned back to me. Her eyes held none of the hardness that used to be there when she looked at me. “My mother died when I was six, before Apicius took command of the domus. Popilla was angry that my mother had failed to bring her the correct wine. She had my mother beaten so severely that several of her ribs broke and her lung was punctured. She died that night.”
I could feel the sadness radiating from her. After a short, uncomfortable silence, I reached over and took her hands, squeezing them in comfort. “I’m sorry. May Pluto and Proserpina keep her safe.”
She let me hold her hands for a moment, then pulled them away. “It’s hard to think back to those times. I haven’t spoken to anyone of my childhood for many years. It’s better not to think of these things. I do not like the darkness that comes when I do.”
Passia left then. I watched her go, the wisps of her yellow tunica fluttering against her legs as she walked.
My own hatred toward Popilla had increased a thousandfold.
CHAPTER 5
“Don’t leave me!” Aelia lay propped up by dozens of silk-encased pillows. Her voice was shrill despite her weakness, her eyes red with sorrow and her hair greasy and lifeless. It had been five days since she lost the baby and she was still despondent. Her body-slave, Helene, was itching to get Domina into the bath as soon as her strength would allow. That morning I brought some broth for Aelia to sip, but when I made to leave, Apicius commanded me to wait for him. I went to stand with Sotas next to the door, where we faded into the background as Apicius paced the room, instructing one of his new Gallic slaves on what to pack in the large trunk next to the door.