Between the grand dinners and the success of the school, Apicius’s name seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Except for Apicata’s.
Apicata couldn’t care less about banquets or the school or her father’s affairs. By the time she was fourteen she was nearly as tall as me, with a budding figure that made heads turn. It was hard to believe she was the same girl I used to carry on my shoulders to the market.
The name on Apicata’s lips was that of a boy, Leonis Antius Casca, the son of a senator, who was, for all practical purposes, a respectable choice of possible husbands for our girl. His father, Antius Piso, had been a trusted adviser to Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, who died twenty years past, but was once Caesar’s most honored military general and Tiberius’s father-in-law. Piso had money, but also the ear of many senators and patricians. Piso’s brother had once been consul and state augur and still held great influence.
Piso was a frequent guest to Apicius’s triclinium, and in recent months he began bringing Casca along as a shadow. The boy was hardly much of a boy anymore, having donned his manly toga several years before, but he still had a rosy-cheeked look about him that made him seem younger than his eighteen years. He wore his hair closely cropped in the style of Augustus. It made his features all the more prominent; dark brown eyes, chiseled nose, and a slight pout in his lips that rounded out his Adonis-like visage. His father, on the other hand, sported a poorly made black wig that only served to make his lack of hair all the more obvious. Fortunately, what Piso lacked in looks he made up for in smarts—his skills in the courtroom were admired all over Rome.
I first saw the spark between Apicata and Casca at a small gathering held not long after the Lupercalia festival in February. Apicius had invited Trio and Celera, as well as Piso, his wife, and young Casca. The seating arrangement turned out to be advantageous for the youth. Apicata lay next to her parents at the end of one side of the couch, diagonally across from where Casca reclined behind his mother and Piso on the adjacent couch. This afforded Trio, Celera, and me an excellent view of their flirting while their parents remained unaware.
It was a quiet evening, full of gossip and good cheer. There was much talk of the early days of Caesar, when he was still known as Octavian, when Antony was still alive and involved with the great Egyptian queen, Cleopatra. I had heard many of the stories before but never from someone who had spent so much time at Caesar’s side. Piso had been with Caesar when he ordered the vestal virgins to hand over Marc Antony’s secret will, imagine! He was one of the first to know of the full extent of Antony’s treachery!
I was so caught up in the discussion that I almost didn’t notice Apicata sneaking shy glances at young Casca. Celera had, however, and was watching with amusement. She winked at me when she saw I had also noticed their interest. As Casca mouthed a sweet nothing to Apicata, Celera seized the moment.
“Apicata, I understand you have begun reading the Histories of Herodotus. Tell me, how do you like them?”
She almost choked on her honey water, not expecting to be addressed. Casca averted his eyes when he saw me looking in his direction and both of them turned as red as the cushions upon which we were seated.
Apicata recovered quickly. “I’ve almost finished them. Father was entertaining Annaeus Seneca and when he heard I had not yet read it, he sent me a copy.”
“Have you reached the part about how the Ethiopians bury their dead in crystal coffins?” Casca asked, turning his body to rest his chin on both hands and stare at her directly.
“Oh, yes, I’m long past that! I’m reading about how Xerxes had the waters of Hellespont whipped for not obeying him.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Wait till you reach the Battle of Thermopylae. What a heroic story!”
The exchange continued for a few more minutes with additional commentary from the others, who were oblivious to the undercurrent between the youths. I was reminded of the early years of my love for Passia and a pang of anger bit into the memory. It was hard to watch Apicius negotiating the marriage of his daughter when he still denied me my own union.
“They would be handsome together, wouldn’t they?” Celera said to me, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, but I believe that Apicius has his sights on other prospects.”
“Much can change in the matter of a few months, no?” Celera purred.
I agreed but at the time I did not believe her.
? ? ?
There were other banquets where Apicata and Casca had the opportunity to speak. I kept a close eye on them when I could and always sent a slave after Apicata when I saw her looking as though she were going to sneak off into some dark corner with the boy. My efforts were for naught.
Passia first found out about their clandestine meetings when she stumbled upon a crumpled piece of papyrus in a corner of Apicata’s quarters. The meetings were during the day—with slaves sleeping against Apicata’s door at night and guards patrolling the gardens it would have been impossible for her to leave without someone knowing. But during the day she had more freedom, especially if Passia was busy helping Helene when Aelia entertained friends.
“She is already in love with him.” Passia and I were lying in bed at my apartment at the school when she told me she had confronted Apicata about the note. “They meet in the gardens down the street. She charmed one of your kitchen girls into sending him messages and helping her get in and out through the servants’ entrance.”
“Which girl?” I growled, vowing to make sure it didn’t happen again.
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
Of course not. I sighed and ran my fingers through Passia’s hair. “Did she promise to stop seeing him?”
She pressed her cheek into my shoulder, her breath soft against my skin. “I agreed I would be silent if I went with her.”
“Passia!” I couldn’t believe she would assent to such an arrangement.
“Thrasius, she is at the age where I can no longer say no to her. I am, after all, her slave. If I say no to her demands she might turn on me to get what she wants. At least this way she might take my advice and counsel.”
I pressed her tighter against me, concerned at this turn of events. “Apicius will not be kind if he finds out you are helping her. He would probably whip you till you had barely a breath in your body. I could not bear to see you bleeding on the tiles at the hands of Sotas. Passia, you can’t do this.”
She pulled away. “Don’t tell me what to do, Thrasius. You’re the one person I trust not to order me about.”