“He did indeed.”
The young sea captain could barely contain his excitement. “He’s offered to triple the price you have given me.”
Buccio gasped at Apicius. “Triple? Do you even know what has been paid?”
“It’s of no matter,” Apicius replied, sliding a heavy purse full of gold aurei into the captain’s hand. “Take this. I’ve already sent for the money changer to authorize credit for whatever the rest might be.”
“Are you mad? That’s nearly one hundred thousand denarii!” Buccio blurted out. “You could buy the whole boat!”
Apicius sneered at Buccio. “Slave, were you questioning me?”
Buccio dropped his head, anger and shame tinting the tips of his ears red. “No, Dominus Apicius. I was not questioning you. Nor do I have the ability to meet your price. Take the boat. We will return to Dominus Octavius. I’m sure he will want news of this changed commission right away.” The slave didn’t wait for a response. He backed up a few steps and moved toward the bowels of the ship to gather the rest of his men.
Apicius gazed toward the sky. I heard him whisper a prayer to Fortuna, for being able to purchase passage, and to Mercury, to bring the news swiftly to Octavius that his rival had stolen the ship right out from under him.
? ? ?
At the end of the third day after we left the harbor, I stood next to Apicius and watched the long fishing boat draw up next to our ship. It had one tall sail and held a dozen or so men, two of whom were playing some sort of dice game while they waited. Heaps of netting were piled on each end of the boat, and in the center, two large, pitch-sealed holding tanks held a variety of fish and prawns in a few feet of seawater. The men were all dark-skinned Libyans, tall and reedlike. There was something beautiful about the way these people moved, about the rhythm of their strange language and their laughter, as clear as the bright sea. Unlike my dominus, they seemed to be in no hurry.
An African man shouted a greeting in a language I did not know.
Apicius gestured for one of the ship’s slaves to translate for him. “Ask them if they have any prawns.” A youth leaned over the deck to talk to the sailors.
“They have prawns. They say you will not be disappointed.”
Apicius rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Excellent. Have them send a basket to the deck.”
The young slave shouted down the instructions. In just a few moments a basket the size of Sotas’s head appeared on the hook that the slave had reeled up from the other ship. Apicius hurried toward the basket, excited to see if the prawns lived up to their reputation.
I followed, still amazed that we had spent the last few days on that wretched ship all for the want of a few shellfish. The basket contained a wide-mouthed clay jar filled to the brim with seawater and a dozen or so of the little creatures, still squirming, struggling to climb out of the container.
Apicius reached in and lifted one of the prawns out. He held it in the palm of his hand. “Not very big, are they?” he said to no one in particular. He paused, flipping the prawn over. “By the gods! These are no good. Not any better than the prawns in Minturnae. Have them send up another basket, of the best selection they have.”
In due time another basket appeared and the ship’s slaves pulled it onto the deck for inspection. Apicius scooped up a handful of the crustaceans, cursed, and threw the prawns over the edge of the boat. He made them send one more basket and then threw up his hands in disgust.
“Sotas,” he said, anger rising in his voice like a rushing tide, “go pay those men a suitable fee for their time, then tell our captain to turn the ship around and head back to Minturnae. I’m tired and I’m going to my cabin.”
I rolled my eyes, thinking of all the barrels of snow that would go unused in the ship’s storage, thousands of denarii melting away.
For the remainder of the trip Apicius locked himself in his cabin with his scrolls, too angry to emerge. I slept most of the time, or played backgammon and knucklebones with Sotas and the other slaves. Always I dreamed of Passia. With every wave that rocked the boat at night I wished she were there, curled into me, our bodies pressing closer together with every pitch of the sea.
? ? ?
Back at the villa I knew Rúan would have started preparing for the dinner on the sixth day. I imagined he’d started by testing the recipes I left with him. To accompany the prawns, I had wanted him to serve black-eyed peas with cumin and wine. The first course would include citron melon, black pudding, and cooked cucumbers. For the third course we had planned a variety of honey fritters, a pear patina, and tiny sips of Roman absinthe. I felt let down that I would have to tell him to cancel the cena. I had been excited, especially about the new sauces, including a pine nut and pepper sauce for the prawns. Lately Apicius had been talking about having me write a separate book, a slimmer volume entirely about sauces. I wanted to surprise him with some of the first recipes for this new book. They would now have to wait.
Rúan greeted us wholeheartedly on our return. I didn’t have time to warn him of our master’s mood. “Welcome home. We have a marvelous cena planned for tonight. I have slaves ready to run invitations out to your clients as soon as you give the word.”
Apicius strode past Rúan toward the bath. Sotas followed behind, looking more enervated than I had seen the big man in past months. He had seasickness much of the trip and I knew he was glad to be back on land. Rúan followed, hesitantly giving us an update on the cena preparations, including the sauce for the prawns.
Apicius cut him off. “The prawns were small. Varus duped us! Varus is governor of Carthage. Of course he would say his prawns were the best. How could I be so stupid? And Publius Octavius. He will gloat to no end when he finds out.”
“You didn’t bring any back?” Rúan turned to me for confirmation.
“No, we did not,” Apicius said, slamming a nearby vase from its pedestal to the floor as he continued on his way to the bath.
I jumped to avoid the flying ceramic.
“We can use Minturnae prawns for the dish we had planned for tonight,” Rúan offered. “Besides,” he continued, “Pilus took down a stag in the meadow yesterday. We have deer steaks; not having the prawns won’t be a problem.”
“Deer steaks. That sounds delightful.” Apicius paused. “Fine. Hurry and invite our guests; the day grows long. Make sure you invite Horatius Blaesus and Claudius Scipio as we have business to discuss. For the rest, pick the worthiest clients. Set up a triclinium for the ladies that opens up toward the sea. That might please Aelia.”
At the mention of Aelia’s name, Rúan hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Umm . . .”