“Yes, a week, give or take a day. The winds are perfect. And Neptunalia is the most auspicious time to set forth over the sea. Why stay here when our fortune lies elsewhere?” Apicius extended a hand toward the ocean beyond the villa.
I followed the motion with my eyes but was already running through the pantry in my mind, thinking about what to make for the cena. “I’ll have Rúan begin preparation on the sixth day and everything will be in order when we return.”
“Perfect.” Apicius started to turn toward the door but stopped. “Oh, could you take a tray to Aelia this morning? Then meet me at the port.”
“Certainly. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” I left, fuming and thinking of all the things I needed to do in that small space of time.
When I arrived in the kitchen, Rúan was instructing the staff on cleanup from the start of the breakfast duty. Sotas had already sent a slave ahead and told them to stop the preparation for the gustatio, and to pack for the trip; baskets with bread, cheese, olives, and early-summer apples, as well as several amphorae of wine from the cellar. He must have known before the salutatio, I realized.
I talked over the upcoming cena with Rúan, then sent the staff on a day’s vacation, for which they were overjoyed. Normally they had days to themselves only on certain slave holidays, so this was a rare treat. I assumed that Apicius wouldn’t even notice, and if he did, taking in that wrath was little compared to what he had done to Mato that morning. If I had to, I would endure it.
When I brought breakfast to Aelia’s rooms Helene greeted me with a puzzled look. “Domina is still asleep,” she whispered. “Why did you bring a tray?”
“I’m awake, Helene, it’s all right,” Aelia spoke up from inside the room. Helene waved me in, following behind to open the shutters, letting light and the ocean air filter into the room. Aelia sat up in bed, still dressed in her sleep shift. She wore her hair in one long braid draped over her shoulder.
“What’s this?” She squinted at me. “I was planning on joining my husband for breakfast after the salutatio as I always do. Wait, something is amiss. Where is Marcus?”
I paused. “You mean he didn’t tell you?” Nervously, I set the tray down on the table next to the bed.
“Apparently not.”
“He is sailing for Carthage this morning. He’s excited about a new sort of prawn rumored to be better than those here in Minturnae.” I watched a cloud of displeasure change Aelia’s sunny features into a dark glower.
My heart sank even further. There was nothing worse than when Apicius had me do his dirty work. Aelia blinked to keep her tears at bay. “He’ll be gone for days,” she said, her voice quiet but measured.
I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Yes, I suspect we’ll be gone for seven or eight days. He wants to hold a cena on the day he returns.”
Aelia sat silently for a few moments, smoothing the bedsheet methodically with her hands. I stood patiently, awaiting her command, my eyes fixed on the green finch on the bush outside the window. She swung off the covers and jumped out of bed, frightening the bird with her sudden movement. Helene was ready with a robe but Aelia shrugged it off. She went to the window and looked out over the sea where Apicius’s ship would soon be sailing.
“Oh, Juno!” she exclaimed, looking skyward. “Tell me why you saddled me with that man?
“This is your fault, Thrasius. Your food and that blasted cookbook. Where will it be next? Numidia for snails? Ebuso for figs? Attica for honey? Tell me, Thrasius, where does he have his sights set on next week?” Her voice rose as she spoke. She picked up an expensive Egyptian wineglass from a nearby dressing table and dashed it on the tiles near my feet. The glass broke into tiny specks of pink, blue, and green.
I jumped to avoid the spray of glass. I had never seen Aelia so angry. “I do not know, Domina, I swear. I didn’t even know about today until we had already made dozens of sweet cakes for this morning’s salutatio.” I began to back toward the door, slowly, head down and eyes on the tiles, desperate to be away from the tempest in front of me. This wrath was new to me and I did not know what she might do.
“Helene, send for Passia and Apicata. We have a lot to do today.”
I reached the door and looked back at her. Furious, she waved her hand at me.
“Be gone, Thrasius! Sail away to whatever damned country you desire. I want nothing to do with you or my husband.”
I hurried away, my heart in my throat.
? ? ?
The merchant vessel was of medium size, meant for carrying both cargo and passengers. It was a new ship, having sailed only a few times. The wood still gleamed with fresh oil and there wasn’t a single chip to be found in its paint. Dozens of men worked to ready the boat to sail.
The captain greeted us on deck. “I heard you wanted to see me?” He leaned against a thick beam and eyeballed Apicius with distrust. The captain was younger than I would have expected of someone of that rank, with fine chiseled features and muscles like those you might see on an experienced gladiator.
Apicius raised a hand to shade his eyes. “You are sailing this morning?”
“Yes. For Greece.”
“Cargo or passengers?”
The captain hesitated. “Both. Why do you want to know?”
“I need a ship to take me to the coast off Carthage. I want to leave today, as soon as my men bring supplies. I hear you are one of the best captains in port right now.”
“You’ve heard right, but this boat has already been commissioned. I can’t take you.” The captain turned away but Apicius called out before he had gone more than a couple of steps.
“I imagine your patron cannot beat the price I’m willing to give you.”
The captain paused. “And how much is that?”
“I’ll double what he’s giving you.”
The captain waved over one of his deckhands and whispered something in his ear. The boy ran toward the stairs leading belowdeck and disappeared.
“Let’s see what my patron says.”
Together we waited in silence, looking toward the dark aperture in the deck where the sailor had disappeared. Eventually he poked his head into the sunlight, followed by a tall man with short cropped hair and a scroll in his hand. As he neared I realized it was a rolled-up map.
I recognized the man. It was Publius Octavius’s head steward, Buccio, whom I always seemed to run into at the market. Before the slave could reach us, Apicius touched the captain on the shoulder.
“Forget what I said before. I’ll triple whatever price that slave is authorized to give to you,” he said in a low voice.
The captain’s expression shifted from shock to wonder.
How much had Octavius commissioned the ship for? It must have been a large sum to begin with—the vessel was brand-new.
“Master Apicius,” said the steward in a stern, less than cordial greeting as he approached. “Captain, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, Buccio. This man wants to commission my ship for Carthage. I imagine Octavius might have authorized you to negotiate costs if the situation demanded?”