“Prokopton, are you sure about that gift?” I asked, looking up at him.
The merchant’s plump cheeks reddened. “I am. It was my wife’s. I have no children to pass it on to. Please remind her of me when she grows. I will be sad not to see her every week.”
I left Apicata with Prokopton so I could say farewell to other merchants I frequented. The market was still coming to life and each stall in the large two-storied building was in a varied state of preparation. In the central atrium, a young slave girl sorted baskets of flowers into pretty arrangements. The smells of sausages and melted cheese tickled my nose as I passed by the food stalls. Chickens ran underfoot and dogs slept on the tiles, not caring that they were being stepped over. I made my rounds and said my good-byes, some of them tearful on the part of the shopkeepers. I would miss the market of Baiae, busy and varied but not so big that I didn’t know most of the people who worked there. Rome would not be so comfortable.
On my return, I found myself walking behind a small cluster of drunkards, not an unusual sight in Baiae in the summer. Baiae was well known for its festival atmosphere and many came down from Rome to take part in the carefree lifestyle.
There were three nobles, still in their fine evening wear, and two prostitutes, identifiable by their cheap wigs and overdone makeup. It was likely they had been up all night in wine-infused orgiastic bliss and were now looking to find an open popina to serve up breakfast.
My ears perked up when I heard the tallest man speak.
“Look at that sweet girl.” He motioned down the street to where Apicata sat on a bench playing with her bird. Prokopton was tacking bolts of silk on the shelves next to where she sat. “What I wouldn’t give to break that little girl! She would tremble beneath me and learn to beg for more! Come now, let’s look closer!” His friends laughed, one of them stumbling in his mirth and almost pulling one of the women to the ground. She helped her companion right himself and the group ambled their way toward Prokopton’s stall.
Heat rose to my face. Rage infused me but I dared not act. I was a slave and there were consequences. Relations with children happened from time to time but such effrontery toward a child of the nobility was beneath any refined Roman. Apicata was clearly not a slave child; her dress and style of hair easily marked her as a member of the upper class. She was not to be used or given to anyone other than by her father. If a slave made lecherous comments toward a patrician’s child, he could be put to death.
I raced ahead to reach Apicata before the drunkards did. I swooped Apicata up and wrapped her in a dark brown shawl from a nearby shelf. I did not want her ogled any longer nor did I want her to see what was happening. I shushed her worried questions and protests that I was crushing her bird, breathlessly telling Prokopton the story. Prokopton, a freeman, had far more leeway than I did when it came to protecting the honor of the girl.
The drunkards arrived at the stall, stumbling and laughing. Prokopton looked the group over as he leaned casually with one hand against the handle of a well-worn ax. I knew Prokopton was ready to use it if need be.
“I think it would be best for the lot of you to keep moving,” he growled.
The man who’d first eyed Apicata had one arm draped across the shoulders of one of the whores, who had a chipped tooth and wore a cockeyed black wig. His blue eyes were a bleary red. He was what I supposed women would consider handsome. He had dark hair and a perfect Roman aquiline nose. The noble was in his midtwenties and his silk synthesis indicated he was a man of money. His mouth stretched into a drunken grin.
“We mean no harm,” he said to Prokopton. The scent of wine was heavy on his breath despite the fact that we stood several feet away. His voice was deep and rich and most likely he had seduced many women. “Is that your lovely daughter? We were remarking on what a pretty little thing she is.”
Prokopton started to speak but in my anger I cut him off and answered the man myself. “Any more remarks and you’ll be apologizing to Marcus Gavius Apicius yourself, on your knees begging for forgiveness for the lecherous insults you bestowed upon his child. You are not presenting your best face today, and I suggest you sober up and regain your honor.”
“You don’t say!” The man laughed, his dark hair falling away from his face as his head tilted back. “Apicius has a daughter! Well, well, that’s as much of a surprise as if Juno turned me into a cow.” He lurched toward me and I took a step back. Prokopton intervened, ready to use the ax.
The man started laughing but stopped abruptly when he saw the shine of Prokopton’s ax. “You are right, my good man! It’s best we be on our way. I will have to pay dear Marcus a visit soon!”
“He’s leaving for Rome. You missed your chance,” I lashed out. I was shocked at the audacity of the noble. Even Fannia didn’t casually use Apicius’s praenomen of Marcus. Only Aelia had the right to be so intimate. My heart was pounding. The last time I had experienced such rage was on the day Popilla had killed Vatia.
“Ahh, even better. I can look for him at leisure when I return to Rome myself!” He pulled his friends away, chuckling as he left us standing bewildered and enraged.
“Did you know him?” I asked Prokopton. I unwrapped Apicata from the shawl and set her down.
“Why did you have to cover me up? You hurt my bird!” Her voice was loud and I shushed her with a quick finger to her mouth.
Prokopton shook his head and came close enough to talk quietly without the girl overhearing. “Keep her safe.”
I wasn’t sure how someone in my station could do much of anything save cook a good meal. “I will try, my friend. I promise.”
? ? ?
We arrived back at the domus to find the house bustling with activity. Many of Apicius’s clients had arrived early and were loitering outside the gates, waiting for their patron to receive them. I pushed past them, ignoring questions about how long Apicius planned on keeping the tiny crowd waiting. Apicata had whined the entire way home, upset because we had to leave without honey ice and because I kept a pace her little legs could barely match. Once she tripped and almost crushed her wind-up. Despite her protests, I had to take the bird from her to keep it safe on the walk home.
Apicius was waiting in the vestibule, ready to receive his clients. He wore one of his best togas and in his hand he held a large scroll. He must have been going over the list of clients in my absence—something we usually did together before we opened the doors to welcome the many Baiae citizens who turned to Apicius for protection, advice, food, and favors.