Sotas sat on a bench on one side of the room. He sighed and shook his head when he saw me. It meant that Apicius was in a foul mood—the kind of mood where you didn’t want to go anywhere near him. I steeled myself for the worst.
“Where have you been?” Apicius scowled when he saw us. Then he saw Apicata’s reddened, tear-stained face. “By Ceres!” he said, invoking the goddess who looked after the Empire’s children. “Apicata! What is wrong?” He rushed to hug his daughter.
“Thrasius didn’t let me have any honey ice! He took away my bird and he made me run home!”
I handed the bird back to Apicata. She took it without looking at me and then buried her face in Apicius’s shoulder. Her tears blossomed up in full force, one of her best offensive moves. Apicius hated seeing his little girl cry. I groaned inwardly at the irony of the situation.
“There’d better be a good explanation for why you are late to the salutatio and why my daughter is upset,” Apicius said, looking up. His eyes betrayed his thoughts—a tempest raged within.
“There is.” I signaled with my head and eyes that I wanted Apicata to leave before I gave an explanation.
He pulled away from Apicata, wiped her cheeks with his fingers, and smoothed back her curls. “My sweet flower, go find your mother. She will want to see your new bird.”
Apicata brightened at the mention of showing off her new possession. She dutifully kissed her father on the cheek and ran out of the room.
He turned his attention to me, arms crossed and brow knotted. He reminded me of lawyers I saw in the city, stern and demanding, waiting for but never believing the truth. I told him, the entire scene unfolding in front of me once more.
Apicius’s expression was unreadable, except when I mentioned that the man claimed to know him. Then a line of worry extended across my master’s brow. He made me describe the man in detail but, strangely, it made him even angrier than before I’d begun the story. I could see his fist curling into a ball inside the folds of his toga.
I finished my account and stood silently, waiting for my dominus’s response. When Apicius spoke, it was clear he was struggling to keep his temper in check. He paced back and forth in front of his receiving chair as he spoke. “You were late to the salutatio. My clients have been kept waiting. My daughter is upset. On top of all this you dare tell me a ridiculous story about a drunken equestrian in order to make up for your lateness?”
How could Apicius think I was lying?
“Dominus, I have always spoken truth. What would I have to gain from lying to you now?”
The wound of Apicius’s doubt pricked me deep beneath my breast. In the four years since my purchase I had been the model slave, truthful, dependable, and unwavering. Apicius was often disappointed in other slaves, but rarely did he seem displeased with me.
“To keep your reputation unblemished, I suspect. You knew how angry I would be that you were late for the salutatio and you wanted to escape my wrath! Out of all people, Thrasius, you know how important my last day in Baiae is!”
“But, Dominus! I swear on my life it’s true!”
Apicius sat in his receiving chair. He poked his finger at me. “We will speak of this no more. Punishment will be five lashes and you will walk with the house boys behind the carts—the entire way to Rome. You will also apologize to my daughter.” Spittle flew from his lips. When he finished his admonishment, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor next to his chair. “For now, stand here and advise me in today’s salutatio.” He gestured at Sotas to open the front doors.
Confused, I did as I was told without further complaint. I advised Apicius on all the clients who came to pay their respects, reminded him of names, suggested favors to ask such as recommendations to relatives in Rome, advised about the payments to poets and writers who might write and sing Apicius’s praises, and took note of those who hoped for an invite to the villa in Rome.
When the salutatio was over, Apicius made good on his promise, forcing me to submit to the whip.
Sotas strode to my side and took me by the shoulder. He squeezed me gently, and I knew that was his way of telling me he was sorry. He pushed me down until I was kneeling on the stones in front of Apicius. “Remove your tunic.”
I pulled it off and closed my eyes.
“Count them.” Apicius’s command was cold.
The first lash landed squarely on my shoulders and I let out a cry.
“I said, count them.”
“One,” I said, gritting my teeth.
“I couldn’t hear you. We’ll start again. Five lashes, Sotas.”
Sotas cracked the whip down against my skin again.
“One!” I felt the rush of warm blood trickling down my skin.
The whip landed again, and again. I counted, five times. I know that Sotas was as kind to me as he could be, but that did not diminish the pain—or my humiliation.
When it was over, Apicius rose. “We leave in an hour. I hope you packed an extra pair of sandals. You’ll need them.”
He strode from the room and I fell to the tiles, confused, angry, exhausted, and bloody, unable to rise for many minutes. “I’ll send Passia,” Sotas said, touching me on the head after Apicius turned away.
I lay there till Passia came, wondering how a day that started so beautifully could turn so sour.
CHAPTER 8
I was surprised at how much I liked Rome. I had thought that leaving Baiae behind would dampen my spirits but instead I found that the chaos of the city filled me with energy. The Palatine Hill was quieter than the other hills, filled with villas of enormous size surrounded by beautiful gardens and walkways. Below the Palatine was the famous Roman Forum, with its vast temples, shops, and city buildings. The Forum was the true life of the city. Everywhere one turned there was something new and amazing to see. People from all over the world came to live in Rome—or as slaves, had been forced to serve in Rome—and walking down the street it was not unusual to hear dozens of languages being spoken. I was particularly pleased about the markets, of which there were several, each with a specialty.
The first few months of our time in the new city was spent readying the house for upcoming banquets. Apicius had new triclinia made and designed every detail of those rooms to be as sumptuous and impressive as possible.
“I will have dozens of new clients in no time,” he said when he first surveyed the massive triclinium in the garden that would accommodate eighteen people. Since our arrival, Apicius had been obsessed with building his client base. In the city such connections were more important than ever, for protection, to procure influential votes, and to secure the right invites to the right parties. “And to recommend me to Caesar,” he added. “It won’t be long now, Thrasius.”
I did not share his confidence.
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