Apicius grew more impatient with his clients as the morning wore on. After a time, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I don’t have time for this. I’ll see one more, then send the rest away.”
I swallowed the anise seeds I’d been chewing to freshen my breath. Why was he so anxious to end the salutatio? Was he thinking of returning to Rome early? The family had arrived in Minturnae only a few days before, and aside from being able to celebrate Neptunalia in our old home, part of the reason we’d come was to influence the votes of his clients. The governor of the province wasn’t convinced it was necessary to extend a crucial road into Minturnae, and as a result, it was going to a regional vote. The road, Apicius had argued to his clientele all morning, would bring more trade to the town. That was true, but Apicius had a different motive—he wanted Caesar to purchase his unused marshlands to transform them into a raised road leading more directly into Minturnae. Such an agreement would be lucrative indeed.
I cleared my throat and read off the next name on my list. “Numerius Priscus Mato will receive the last audience of the day,” I said to the men standing in the atrium. “The rest of you may partake from the tray of honey cakes and apples as you leave.”
The named client, Mato, was a pale freedman who stood hunched over, much like many older ex-slaves who had once worked on the salt flats beyond Ostia carrying heavy slabs of salt day in and day out. Apicius wasn’t fond of the man, who had gotten drunk at one of his cenae a few years prior and had broken a costly amphora of wine. Although it took more than a year, Mato, without having been prompted to do so, paid back the cost of the wine. It didn’t matter. Apicius’s opinion of him had permanently soured; he had little love for drunkards.
I felt bad for the man. He’d made a mistake and had worked hard to fix it. It bothered me that the effort went unnoticed by my master.
“Priscus Mato, what favor do you seek this morning?”
Mato kept his eyes downward. “It’s my son, little Mato. He’s very ill. I fear for his life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You should make an offering to Asclepius,” Apicius said, raising a hand to wave Mato away.
“That’s why I came to you, Apicius. I’d like to take him to the Asclepeion in Rome but I need money for the trip and the offering. Please, will you help us? I will do anything you ask, vote for anybody you say, give you anything in my power.”
Apicius idly ran his fingers across the jeweled goblet that held his morning wine.
Mato dropped to his knees. A flash of sun from the opening in the atrium shone directly into his face and he squinted, forcing tears from the corners of his eyes.
“Get up,” Apicius said sharply. He had never liked displays of womanly emotion.
Mato struggled to get to his feet. Sotas stepped forward to help the man but stopped when Apicius snapped his fingers. After a moment Mato stood and wavered unsteadily. Desperation shone in his eyes.
Apicius crooked a finger at his client. “If I give you the money for the trip and for a box of snakes for the temple offering, you must agree to give me your boy as a slave when he has been healed.”
I exchanged a worried glance with Sotas. This was unprecedented cruelty on the part of our master. To pay for such a trip and the sacred snakes would be but a trifle, a few denarii at best. To ask for the life of the man’s son was hardly a fair exchange. I did not like this dark side of my dominus. Worse, it had come unbidden. I could not fathom what drove Apicius to be so callous.
Mato’s mouth fell open at Apicius’s proclamation. “You know not what you ask of me, Apicius,” he said in a low voice.
Apicius stood. His chair was on a raised platform, and the added height, although slight, gave Apicius the appearance of towering over his client. “I do know what I ask, Priscus Mato. I ask for the life of your son in exchange for the money I will give you to save it.”
The blood visibly rose in Mato’s face. He trembled but his voice did not shake. “I suffered at the hands of men like you, Apicius. For thirty-five years I toiled and bled for the doings of others. I scraped together my meager peculium to buy my freedom and the freedom of my sons. Death would be better for him than slavery.”
“Very well, death may be what he will receive.” He flicked a finger at Sotas. “Have him removed.”
Sotas gently led the man toward the door. My heart lurched with each step he took.
Apicius snapped his fingers at me as he stood. “Come, Thrasius, accompany me to the library.” I followed, deeply concerned about my master’s cruel mood.
“Dominus—” I began as we left the atrium. He didn’t break his stride when he cut me off.
“I don’t want to hear it, Thrasius. If you say one word to me about that drunkard, I will take away your time with Passia.”
He heard my sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t think that it’s escaped me just how much that girl means to you. You would be wise to keep that in mind.”
If I had held real knives at the time I might have released them without thinking, so great was my anger. I glanced at Sotas and he gave me a warning look—a look that said I should keep my mouth shut and agree to whatever Apicius wanted. Of late I had been seeing more and more of that look from the big man. My dominus’s moods were becoming increasingly unpredictable and extreme and no one understood why.
When we reached the library, Apicius crossed the room to the open window facing toward the ocean. The morning sun made the sea sparkle as if it were covered in flecks of gold. “A beautiful day to sail!” His voice held no irritation. Instead he sounded joyful.
I was flabbergasted. “You’ve been preparing to sail?” I managed, struggling to hide both my anger and my disbelief. “Where are we going?”
“To Libya! You recall the Carthaginian governor bragging last week about the size of prawns there? Even better than those here in Minturnae, he said. Bigger. Sweeter. I decided to find out. I’m going to hire a ship this morning.” Apicius smiled, no doubt thinking of the baskets upon baskets of crustaceans that would accompany his return.
I grunted, angry about everything that had happened that morning. And now, to top it off, I would be spending more time away from Passia.
“Have Rúan prepare a special cena for my return. I will be anxious to share my find with my best Minturnae clients. I also want to ship a few barrels down to Baiae. The gods know those vacationers can afford higher prices for shellfish than the citizens here in Minturnae.”
I plastered on my best smile, determined not to let him see my true emotion. His mood was too quick to change and I wanted none of the lash. “Of course. How long do you expect we’ll be gone? A week? What about Neptunalia?”