Apicius squinted his eyes and curled his lips, looking puzzled. “Why, no. Rúan is my cook. The man Publius Octavius is pointing at is my friend.”
“That’s the slave, it’s him!” Spittle flew from Octavius’s lips. He waggled his finger at me like a teacher would at a schoolboy. I thought I heard Fannia snort from where she stood at the side of the atrium.
Apicius smiled and patted the shoulder of his rival. “Ahh, my dear Octavius, now I understand the confusion.” Octavius jerked his shoulder away.
“My dear lady, this man used to be my slave and my cook. That is true no longer. He is a loyal freedman and a citizen of Rome.” Apicius snapped his fingers in Sotas’s direction. “Get me the papers.”
Sotas left to get the copy of Apicius’s set of papers—mine were tucked away in my cubiculum.
Passia clutched me so hard I knew I’d have bruises on my rib cage. Octavius’s eyes skimmed across me. I realized he was looking for my slave plaque or an identifying tattoo that had not been burned away with my freedom. Thank the gods Apicius hadn’t branded me, as some slave owners did!
Livia folded her arms across her chest. She was not amused. I suspected Octavius would receive an earful when they left.
“You freed him?” Octavius said in disbelief.
Apicius nodded. “Why, yes, of course. I reward those who are loyal and work hard.”
Sotas returned. He handed the papers to Apicius and returned to his place.
Apicius passed them to Livia. “You’ll see they’re in order. We went to the Curia two days ago; I wanted to surprise him for Saturnalia.”
Livia glanced at the papers, then handed them to the wrinkled old secretary who had accompanied her. He looked them over and gave them back to Apicius. “They are true documents, signed by the required number of witnesses.”
While the secretary had been going over the papers I observed Livia staring Fannia down. There was darkness in her eyes.
Aelia stepped forward to join her husband. “Empress Livia, we would hate if your visit here was for naught. We would be delighted if you and Publius Octavius would join our Saturnalia feast today if you are able.”
“Oh, our trip today is not for naught.” Octavius waved a hand at Rúan. “I trust three thousand denarii will be enough?”
Apicius shook his head but kept his smile. “Now, Octavius, you know the worth of a cook from my household. I cannot take less than eight thousand denarii.”
I thought Rúan might faint. Passia stiffened next to me. Apicius was playing a dangerous game, bargaining with Livia and Octavius.
Livia did not look pleased but she agreed to the bargaining. “Six thousand and no more.”
“That is acceptable. May he remain with us today for our Saturnalia feast? He is well loved in my house.”
“Very well.” She was angry but resigned. “I’ll send my slave tomorrow to draw up the papers and fetch him.” Livia waved a hand at her secretary. Regaining her sense of protocol, she took Aelia’s hands in hers. “Thank you for your generous invitation but we must be going.”
I think I took breath again when I saw the last sandaled heel of the slave who brought up the rear of her group. Passia relaxed her grip on me.
Everyone except Apicius looked stunned. Rúan seemed on the verge of tears. He kept smoothing back his red locks with one hand, a habit he had when he was upset. Balsamea rubbed his arm, trying to reassure him.
Apicius clapped his hands together and the sound reverberated through the room. “What do you say, everyone? Should we break out the Falernian wine?”
Most of the slaves began to cheer. Apicius nodded to me to go with Rúan, a kindness that surprised me. Balsamea, Sotas, Passia, and I steered him toward the hallway that led to the gardens, where we proceeded to spend Rúan’s last night at the villa in great but sad, roaring, drunken splendor.
Sotas pulled me aside later that night. He handed me a fresh glass of wine—a peace offering.
“I did not show you my best face, Thrasius. I offer my apology.”
I took the glass. “No need, my friend.”
“If you were not free, you would not be here before me. For that, I thank the goddess.”
I raised my glass. “Let us thank her together.”
And we drank.
PART VI
10 C.E. to 11 C.E.
PARTHIAN CHICKEN
Draw the chicken from the rear and cut it into quarters. Pound the pepper, lovage, a little caraway, pour on liquamen, flavor with wine. Arrange the chicken pieces in a ceramic dish, put the sauce over the chicken. Dissolve fresh laser (silphium) in warm water and put it straightaway on the chicken and cook it. Sprinkle with pepper and serve.
—Book 6.8.3, Fowl On Cookery, Apicius
CHAPTER 16
Rúan’s absence made life difficult for all of us in the first months after that fateful night. Not only did I lose a constant friend and trusted assistant, but despite my newfound freedom, I was busier than ever. Because I was still, in many ways, the de facto coquus, we had never found Rúan an assistant. That meant while I was in charge of running the school, with Rúan absent, I took on many of my old duties in the household. By the end of every day I was exhausted.
The better part of a year had passed and we still hadn’t found a cook to replace Rúan. Or rather, we hadn’t found a cook to satisfy the high standards both Apicius and I had. There were a few slaves we purchased for the task, but in the end, they were always relegated to other parts of the kitchen. So it seemed that while I was free, I was still not free. At least now I was well paid, far more so than I could ever be if I were to leave and be on my own.
? ? ?
One morning during the salutatio a messenger arrived at the door of the villa. His tunic was muddy, as though he had come from a great distance.
“I come from the family of Numerius Cornelius Sulla,” he said, presenting the scroll to Apicius. He waited while Apicius read the note.
I wondered at the contents of the scroll. Sulla, of the great gens Cornelia, had been betrothed to Apicata several years ago. Of late Apicata had been asking more about her future husband. She found it hard to fathom marrying someone almost four times her age, despite his wealth and his position as a general in Caesar’s army.
Apicius waved the messenger off. “No reply.” The man left as quickly as he came.
Apicius handed me the scroll. “He’s dead.”
“What happened?” But Apicius did not respond. He walked past me to return to the seat where he greeted his clients, irritation wrinkling his brow. I opened the scroll to discover that Sulla had died in the early part of October at the hands of robbers when he was returning to Rome from Germania after a shoulder injury discharged him from service.
I understood Apicius’s silence. He now had the new worry of choosing a suitable husband for his daughter.
Passia told me that Apicata said little about the incident when Aelia gave her the news. However, I noticed a new sense of relief that floated about her in the weeks after the news came to us. I did not blame her—the man had been older than her father.