He sat on a tiled bench, watching the guests mingle. The night was steamy and I brought him a cup of wine in which I had slipped some precious snow, a treat not typically afforded to slaves, but no one would notice; in the unusual heat of the October evening it had already melted.
I slid onto the bench next to him. Sotas was looking in the direction of Sejanus, who was talking with Apicius, Fannia, and Aelia. Apicata played with Perseus beneath their feet. Sejanus was more charismatic than the day I saw him drunk in Baiae, his features even more finely chiseled, his eyes a touch bluer and the smile more devious than I remembered.
“Bastard,” Sotas said. “He remembers me. You watch him, and tell me what you think. Even if that day hadn’t happened, there is something wrong about him, something underhanded and wicked.”
“He’s the man who wanted to accost Apicata at the market in Baiae.”
Sotas stared at me, his eyes widening. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as you are sitting next to me.” I seethed. “He said that Apicius owed him a favor. I tried to warn Dominus but he wouldn’t listen.
“Tell me, Sotas, if Sejanus has such evidence on Apicius, why hasn’t Apicius tried to kill Sejanus?”
Sotas cocked an eyebrow at me. “You mustn’t talk of such things.”
“Why not?”
“Apicius hates Sejanus but he’s on his way to becoming a Praetorian—the best of Caesar’s guards. If anyone would die in an attempt to stop him, it would likely be him for even thinking it. The investigation into his death would be relentless, and the consequences painful and deadly—to all around Apicius.”
He turned back toward the party. I watched with him, marveling over the web that the Fates wove for us—it was truly tangled.
At length, the flutists moved off and I could hear the conversation.
“Your daughter is delightful!” Sejanus was saying to Aelia. I gripped the edge of the bench and bit my tongue as he spoke. “She is a living testament to the good looks that seem to follow the gens Aelia.”
Aelia smiled. “Cousin, you flatter me.”
Sejanus had set the tone for the evening with the clear slight against the Gavia clan. “It’s only a shame I share the name through adoption—not blood—or who knows how much more attractive I might have been!” Nearby guests laughed at the joke but to me it seemed the true intent was to point out that Apicius had, at least at one time, found him attractive. Sejanus looked at Apicius directly as he spoke, a smile on his face.
Apicius gave away nothing. He waved over a boy with a tray. “Have you tried the fried hare livers, Sejanus?”
Apicata jumped up and down and smiled at her father. “May I? May I?”
Her father smiled. Apicata could always melt his heart. “Only one and don’t share with Perseus!”
The serving boy lowered the tray so she could reach for the liver but not so low that the jumping puppy could steal treats for himself. She snatched a morsel and popped it into her mouth. I knew what she tasted, a sublime mixture of textures, the crispy breaded exterior and the smooth, sumptuous richness of the liver itself. The combination is unexpected. When I first introduced the recipe, it immediately became a family favorite.
Apicata turned to Sejanus. She did not appear to recognize him from the market. “Oh, you must try! These are my favorite!”
“If you say so, I must try!” Sejanus reached for the tray. He took a bite of the liver and surprise registered in his eyes.
Sejanus reached for another liver. “Where on earth did you find your cook?”
“Baiae.” Aelia reached for her own sample. “Thrasius’s cooking is always exceptional. Wait until you try the hyacinth bulbs!”
“Hyacinth bulbs are one of my favorites.” Sejanus ran his fingers affectionately through Apicata’s hair as he talked.
I stared, wondering what his intentions were. My right eye began to twitch.
Apicius nodded at Passia to come forward and collect Apicata and her puppy. The girl went begrudgingly and only after Sejanus had planted a kiss on her forehead and promised he would visit again soon.
“There are rumors your father will be named consul,” Sejanus said to Aelia.
“I have heard the same.” Octavius joined the conversation. He carried a napkin full of sausages. His mouth was full and the corners of his lips were slick with grease. “Aelia, you must be so proud!”
“It is well deserved,” Aelia said. “He has worked hard to be a good senator and it’s wonderful to see him rewarded.”
“Have you seen him much since you came to Rome?” Sejanus asked. He already seemed to be acquainted with Octavius.
Apicius spoke up. “He dined here last week, with Seneca the Rhetorician and his wife.”
“Did anyone tell you about Corvinus?” Octavius shook a sausage at Apicius.
Aelia spoke up before her husband could. “Is he all right?”
Octavius licked his lips. “Oh, he’s perfectly fine. In fact, he’s decided it’s time to retire.”
I wondered why Fannia hadn’t mentioned it to Apicius when she’d talked to him earlier about Corvinus. I could see a surge of excitement rush through Apicius and knew he was thinking through all his clients to determine if he could call in favors with those who held sway with Corvinus and could recommend him. The spark of hope died in his eyes with Octavius’s next words.
“While he’s heading to his farm in Tusculum, I’ll be taking on his work for Augustus. Now that I’m back from governing Egypt, Caesar wanted to make sure I was kept busy.” He stuffed another sausage in his mouth and chewed.
“Splendid news,” Apicius managed to say. But it was not splendid news. To have Octavius win the coveted adviser post was the worst news imaginable. I was sure Apicius wanted nothing more than to go throw himself into the Tiber.
“Congratulations,” Sejanus said, but he raised a knowing eyebrow at Apicius. Apicius did not return the look, and only continued to smile pleasantly at Octavius.
“Thank you,” Octavius said, his point having been made. “Oh, Apicius, I heard about that nasty business with your mother.”
Apicius froze.
“What a she-devil you were spawned from!” The insult in his voice was clear. “I’m sure you were right to exercise your paterfamilias with that woman.” He smacked his lips.
“You are out of line!” Aelia spoke up. I was surprised at her audacity, to assert herself so to one of Apicius’s guests.
“Aelia . . .” Apicius warned, glaring at her. Deflated, she stepped back a pace.
“Now, now, Octavius, we should stay out of the affairs of others, don’t you agree?” Sejanus said pleasantly.
Octavius didn’t respond but he dipped his head in deference before walking away to talk to a cluster of senators who stood nearby.
“It must be good to be close to family again,” Sejanus said, turning the conversation. “I, for one, am glad to be here. Just as Rome was becoming a bit of a bore, my dear cousin and her husband come and throw a party!”