I worked hard with Rúan in the kitchen in the days before the holiday—if we could prepare much of the food ahead of time, it meant less work for all the slaves during the week. While the reversal of the master and slave roles was one of the highlights of the Saturnalia, we still had to make ready the grand banquet and the dinners, even if we were allowed to also sit at the tables and partake. Apicius, Aelia, and, that year, Apicata would serve the main dishes to the slaves, but we still cooked all the meals.
On the afternoon of the first day of Saturnalia, I was in the kitchen sitting on the tiles with Balsamea, Passia, and Apicata, helping them wrap presents, when Tycho burst through the door, out of breath.
“Master, you must . . .” He gasped for air. “You must hurry.”
I jumped to my feet, knocking over a box of clay knucklebones Apicata had made as a present for Rúan.
“What’s wrong?” I reached out and put a hand on Tycho’s shoulder.
“I’m not sure. Fannia arrived and she is in a panic. Sotas took her to Apicius but she sent me to bring you to them. She said it was urgent.”
Apicata stood up to come with me. Balsamea took her hand. “Stay with me, Apicata.”
“I’m old enough to know what’s going on! And you can’t tell me what to do.”
“Stay, little bird. Please. I beg you.” At eleven she had begun to realize that, as we were her slaves, she had the right to demand whatever she wanted of us. I was glad she didn’t then.
“Fine,” she said, pouting. She picked up the knucklebones that had scattered across the floor. I exchanged a worried glance with Passia, then darted after Tycho down the hall.
When I arrived in the atrium, Fannia waited, wrapped in a thick wool cloak. Her hood was still up and I could not see her face. Two slaves were dressing Apicius to go out, wrapping his legs with woolen strips to keep him warm beneath his toga before putting on the red shoes denoting him as a patrician. Another handed me a cloak and a pair of boots.
“Put those on, Thrasius,” Apicius commanded. Anger tinged his words.
Puzzled, I complied. Questions that I did not dare voice swirled through my mind in a flurry. Why was he wearing his formal toga and shoes? Why had he given me his clothes to wear? Was it me he was angry with? Where were we going?
We didn’t leave by the front doors. Instead we hurried through the slave hallways to one of the back entrances.
He gave stern commands to the guards outside. “No one leaves or enters this villa and no one is to know we have left. If anyone comes to the doors you will tell them I am ill and am not seeing visitors, even if it’s Caesar himself. If I find that anyone, and I mean anyone, has disobeyed me, I will put to death the guilty party along with every other slave in this household. I will buy all new slaves when their blood runs across the tiles. Do you understand?”
Apicius turned and glared at me, and I realized I had let forth an audible gasp. To suggest death for nearly a hundred of his slaves seemed rash and I was taken aback. Apicius’s stare ripped into me and my heart began to pound. If he was angry enough to kill slaves and a cadre of his guards, what would he do to me if I were to anger him?
“Yes, Dominus,” the guards said in unison. The head of Apicius’s personal guard accompanied us through the halls and vowed he would convey his words to all who watched the house.
? ? ?
In moments, the three of us were sitting in Apicius’s litter rushing across the back roads of the Palatine down toward the Forum. I was glad I was given a heavy cloak to wear. December had proven much colder than usual.
In the litter, Fannia and Apicius ignored me. Fannia pulled off the hood of her cloak to reveal a blond wig full of thick curled ringlets piled up along the sides of her head. She seemed like a woman trying too hard to look young.
“Are you sure, Fannia? Very sure?” Apicius held the edges of his toga in his hands and wrung the fine wool between his fingers.
“My spy is trustworthy. Remember, that’s how I knew about the death of General Varus at the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest before the rest of Rome heard the news.” Fannia pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
I was desperate to ask questions but dared not.
Apicius tightened his hold on the folds of his toga. I could see his knuckles turn white. “I don’t understand. Why now?”
“It’s my fault. I saw them at a party last week. I was stupid. I taunted them, boasting of that dinner you held for Claudius. I gushed like a child opening a Saturnalia present about all the food and how marvelous every dish was. I gloated about my place on the couch. I should not have, Apicius, I know. I know.”
My heartbeat quickened. Who was she talking about?
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. Terror filled me—that I might never see Passia again.
“Please, tell me what is happening.” My voice sounded disembodied, as though someone were speaking into a long hallway and I stood on its other end.
“I can’t believe this.” Apicius buried his face in his hands. I thought he must not have heard me. Fannia did, but only gave me a sympathetic look.
I risked a peek between the curtains. We had reached the Forum and Sotas and the other slaves were running the litter along one of the side roads—a curious choice. We always took the main road through the center of the Forum. Apicius always wanted all of Rome to see he was passing.
After a short silence Apicius sat up, bracing himself as the slaves carrying the litter jostled us across the stones of the Forum. I let the curtain fall. His gaze fell upon me.
I saw fear in those eyes. Fear I could not understand. Fear that seemed to find its center in me. When he spoke, his voice shook.
“Livia intends to demand your purchase for the Imperial kitchen.”
It was as though a spear had pierced my breast. I fell back against the pillows behind me, unable to comprehend the words I had heard. If Caesar’s wife demanded my purchase, Apicius would have no choice but to comply. I would be forced into service in the Imperial kitchen, subject to the whims of Octavius, Livia, and Augustus. I would never see Passia again, or if so, only in stolen moments that would endanger my life if I took them. I might not see Apicata or Aelia or Apicius again. I would likely never earn my freedom, or have any semblance of it.
“Can she do that?” My voice cracked. I already knew the answer.
“Right now she can,” Fannia asserted. Despite her answer she seemed optimistic.
The litter came to a stop and Sotas parted the curtains for us. He helped us out and when I had adjusted my cloak I saw we were in front of the Curia Julia, the meetinghouse recently completed by Caesar. It was the center of many judicial activities of the Forum.